Love And Nicknames

My birthday was last weekend. Strange how birthdays change over the years, along with your priorities. I still like presents and cards (who doesn't?) but my priority is being with my family on my birthday. I just love to see them. My son and daughter have grown up into sweet, caring adults who still enjoy spending time with their parents. And my son-in-law has become such a part of the family that I can't imagine our family without him. Wes got to stay with his godmother since we were doing dinner and a movie and he's not quite ready for an outing that does not allow him to crawl on the floor.

Later in the evening, after everyone had gone home and it was just Tom and me, he gave me my present. My sweet, thoughtful, loving husband had given his pudgy, Weight Watchery wife - a Whitman's sampler.

To give him credit, I have always loved Whitman's Samplers. I LOVE that you can look on the top of the box and see what kind each one is - it's like a prize in every candy. And I did check the points and I can have two for three points. So, I'll just eat two and close the box. I think I can do it. I'm still in my determined dieter phase.

With the box was a card he had obviously spent some time picking out and had signed lovingly. But it wasn't the present or the card or even that he had signed it "I love you with all my heart, baby." that made it special. (Yes, he is pretty fabulous.) It was the fact that the card was addressed to Fran.

Now some of you are puzzled. You are well aware that my name is not Fran. No, it's not. But this is just one of the many, many nicknames my husband has for me. At Christmas time, under the tree, I have lots of presents from him. Each one has a different name on it. My children laugh every year as they hand out the presents labeled with some of these names.

Fran: Somehow, some of Tom's relatives got my name wrong and we were both too polite to correct them. So, I was Fran for a long time.

Bob: My kids called for me when they were sick with very stuffy noses. Mom became Bob.

Darnell: This is a good one. We had a limo driver pick us up at the airport in Seattle when we were on our way to Alaska. He stood there yelling for "Darnell". We looked at each other and said "Darnell? Darnell?" It turned out he was saying my name with a Middle Eastern accent. This was the same driver who drove approximately 204 miles an hour to get to our hotel. I hope he could get those indentations from our fingers out of his seats.

Fuzz: A bad perm. 'Nuff said.

There are actually more that I can't remember at this moment. But he can. He remembers every one. He labels my cards and gifts with different nicknames and calls me by those names with teasing affection. Someone told me once that a child who has a nickname is a child who is well loved.

If that is true, I am extremely well loved. And isn't that wonderful?