The Arrival of...Moses

For a brief moment yesterday, the second I saw The Dictator and when The Dictator saw me, I was reminded of the day she was born and the overwhelming emotion.

After eight l-o-n-g days of not seeing The Dictator, she finally arrived! When she saw me, she beamed, giggled and threw her arms around my neck. It felt awesome.

One of my best friends, who has four kids, also just came back yesterday after travelling with her husband to Vietnam for 8 days.

"Oh my god, I missed them so much," she said, when I asked if she missed her children. I could only imagine. I mean, if I missed The Dictator, one mini-human as much as I did, and then had to times that feeling by four, I don't think I could do it.

Anyway, I'm feeling happy, happy, happy.

And perplexed.

So Gwyneth had her second baby and she named him Moses. I like the name Moses. Not as much as I like the name Apple, mind you. And Moses Martin does have a certain ring to it.

But while I felt that her choice of the name Apple for her first born was an honest decision. I kind of feel like Gwyneth chose the name "Moses" to get people talking, not because she loved the name for her child. And that sort of bugs me.

Apple and Moses. "Here are my children. Apple and Moses," "Moses and Apple! Stop bickering!," "Get dressed Moses!"

I have to keep saying this over in my head because her choice of the name Moses just doesn't ring true to me. It's like she thought she had to pick a unique name or something and that she knew the world was waiting with abated breath to see what she would call her child.

Moses. Moses. Moses.

Maybe it will grow on me.