June Blog Exchange: Guest Post from Kristen

…And Don’t Call Me Hon

Aside from pantyhose with opened toe shoes and chewed gum on a dinner plate, I’m pretty sure someone other than my husband, mother, or nice old waitress at my favorite diner calling me “hon” is my worst pet peeve. There’s nothing like an 18-year-old hostess telling me, “hon” that is, that my table is ready. Oh, and to have a nice meal, HON. It’s like nails on a chalkboard.

I’m not really averse to pet names, and in fact, for the longest time, I really wanted a fun pet or even nick name. It’s probably because my parents always called me by my first name (no fun derivatives like “Kristy” or “Krissy”) and if I could ever get the coveted “pet/nickname combo” it meant I had truly arrived.

Everyone always had really cute nicknames – you know, some weird adaptation of their last name (Kazanicka became “Kaz”), or just a fun word that represented a quirky trait or ability (Michelle became “Hummer” … heh). But me? I always got “Daddy Long Legs” or “Amazon” – and neither were cool enough or fun enough to stick. Thank god.

I even think I let boyfriends stick around way past their welcome because they had cute pet names for me. Like “KC” (um, boring – my initials) and then “Sunshine” (for KC and the Sunshine Band – creative, right?). You’d think at some point I’d realize how ridiculously lame they were (the names AND the boyfriends) and dump both, however, my covetous nature got the best of me and I enjoyed basking in my silly pet names for as long as I could possibly tolerate.

Now that I’m married, I throw around the “hon” so often that I sometimes find myself calling my daughter and even my mother “hon.” And it’s gotten so bad, that my daughter, on occasion, has called my husband “hon” thanks to my way too frequent use of the moniker. However, none of those hons are as bad as the couple I got last week.

The first was from my young teenage waitress at lunch. I would have even taken the “maam” over the way too many “hons” she threw my way. However, I don’t feel that special since she also called the 75 year old ladies “hon” as well. Gives me the total shivers, I tell you.

The deal breaker, however, was the “hon” times 27 from a college book store manager that I had to deal with over the phone. It just seems very wrong trying to explain the book ordering process to a woman who won’t stop caling you HON. Seriously woman. Enough is enough.

So, if you run into me on the street or Blogher, for that matter, feel free to wear your open-toed sandals and put your ABC gum on your plate (even mine if you’re so moved). But, I strongly suggest not calling me “Hon” (or any form of the word), because I may just have a few choice names for you that probably won’t sound as nice. And, I’m pretty sure that “hon” won’t be one of them. Okay, Ho?

Kristen is a former college professor turned stay-at-home-blogger (and mom) to a 22 month old daughter. You can read more from her at Motherhood Uncensored and Cool Mom Picks.

This post is part of a blog exchange on the theme "What's in a Name?" Click here to read more. And if you'd like to participate next time, email Kristen at kmei26 at yahoo.com.