What is in a name?

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Okay, sorry. Just had to get that out of the way. There was no way for me to borrow my title from Romeo and Juliet without finishing. (So Romeo would . . . blah, blah, blah. Not exactly my favorite Shakespeare, but thanks to my education, large chunks of it remain lodged in my brain). So, the post about language (and the subsequent comment about the post -- thank you, faithful reader!) made me think about the names of those in my household. We have a cat. She was named Winnie, but she is only called Winnie when she runs at my feet and nearly trips me. Then, she is screamed at: "Winnie!" and she will go hide for six minutes before coming out to run at my feet again. It is a game, I guess, but I am not sure of the rules. I am fairly certain that she wins every time, too, because she never fails to miss my feet. Anyway, she is most often called Winners or just Win. When she is very serious, she becomes Winnie Mandela, which she doesn't seem to find as funny as I do. Since we became parents, my husband and I rarely if ever refer to one another by name. At first it was only in front of our baby: "Mommy, I'll watch the baby if you would like to take a nap." (A sentence that uses not only the nickname, Mommy, but is the absolute sweetest sentiment one can home for when one becomes a new parent -- trust me!) or "Daddy, does the baby need a change?" Yep, we named the baby, but for the first few months, he was simply "the baby." I don't think that is so uncommon. Then, it happened more and more. "Mommy, do you want the last piece of pizza?" "Daddy, did you want to watch a movie?" I imagine that perhaps we'll devolve into one of those creepy old couples on tv who refer to one another as Mother and Father, even when their kids have long since grown up and moved away. "Well, Mother," I imagine them saying. "How about I bend you over the dinner table?" "Okay, Father." That is just wrong.
My son has it the worst. We gave him a name, a good name, even, one that we both really liked and that we now use only to introduce him to people: "This is our son, Jude." His grandparents call him Jude. His aunts and uncles call him Jude. We rarely call him Jude. He has various nicknames, depending on the occasion. For example: (said with a stern voice) "Buddy, I know you were just playing, but you can't kick Daddy there." Or (eyeing a floor full of mangled, disassembled toys) "Buddy, you have to be more careful with your toys." Then, there is "Honey." This one is used when Jude runs into something he couldn't possibly see (like a wall) or trips over something he couldn't possibly see (like a gigantic Weebles treehouse set) and he falls, broken-heartedly crying. "Honey, come here and show Mommy." He points to the boo- boo, which Mommy kisses. He then runs off, heart mended and boo-boo all fixed. (It is an amazing system, really. And it works.) Then, there is the invocation of his full name, reserved for the most dastardly deeds (and now that he is two, he hears this one a lot more than either of us would like, I'm sure). For example, when a box of white minute rice gets spilled all over the kitchen floor, that is a moment where "Jude Forrest, what have you done!" feels appropriate. There are many, many times, though, when "Sweetie" is appropriate. "Come here, Sweetie. Mommy missed you," I often say after a long day. Or "Sweetie, Mommy will read The Very Hungry Caterpillar to you (for the hundredth time). The nicknames, though, are affectionate (mostly). Sometimes, he becomes Juders, which looks really odd in print, but somehow seems to fit in here. My husband generally calls me Kimbers and I generally call him Jefffffffffffff (f). Other nicknames cannot be discussed, as they are not appropriate for the family-oriented place known as the internet.
Outside the home, though, nicknames also abound. For instance, my husband and his brother have nicknames for one another that call into question the sexual preferences of each other. My own brothers and sisters all call me Kim, though I have been using my full name, Kimberly, since I was about 13. My own parents don't call me Kimberly, either. And they gave me the name. As a kid, I was called Grace a lot (because I lack Grace, get it?) and often am called Kim or (occasionally Miss Kimberly) by my mother and Kimmie or Kim by my dad. Jeff is often called JM by his mother (usually when he says something she doesn't like and by now, cannot take the time to say "Jeffrey Michael").
Now, if you'll excuse me, Sweetie has bumped his knee and needs a kiss from Mommy.