Name Change

Believe me, I NEVER thought I would be one of those women who would get married and then NOT change my name. I never thought I was that attached to the Neff. Come to find out that I was WRONG. I've been wrestling with myself for all of six months trying to make myself go to the Social Security office and fill out the paperwork.

Finally, on Friday, I realized that if I ever was going to change my name, the time had come as I now have to get a Texas license, register my car in this state, and get insurance. I also realized that once we had babies, I DID want people to know that their parents are actually married instead of wondering if Erin Neff and Nick Peters were divorced, separated, or living together (and therefore saving our children from having to defend the situation to other rotten children).

Anyway, after feeling physically ill all day long, I finally told the doctor that I had to leave an hour early to get to the Social Security office on time. After several missed turns, I finally turned into the FULL parking lot ten minutes before the office closed. I took my number and settled down in the waiting room (also full). It didn't take me long to realize that I DID NOT BELONG. I'm not exactly sure of all the things that they do at the Social Security office but it appeared that I was THE ONLY ONE there for the sole purpose of changing a name.

The waiting room smelled like sweat, alcohol, and cigarettes. All of the people were clutching their number tickets in a death grip and every time someone from the office came out to call a number, they would say, "Hey, MAN! What about numba B sebenteen? B sebenteen? Whachu doin' not callin' my numba?" I thought that a brawl was going to break out at any moment (and not like the arthritic security guard would have been able to do anything about it).

After 45 minutes of fearing for my life, shifting silently away from all of the contentious people, I was called back.

The lady filled out all of the paperwork for me and then brought back a sample card that said, "Erin Marie Peters". I almost started to hyperventilate and tears sprung to my eyes. The only thing I could think of was, "WHERE IS THE NEFF??? MUST HYPHENATE! NEFF-PETERS IS VERY NICE."

I think the lady thought that I was crazy and said that she would leave me alone for a while to decide how I wanted it to read. While she was gone, I turned it over and over in my mind until I had a vision of our babies with "Neff-Peters" written on the back of their football uniforms (yes, our children are going to support us by being NFL football stars...with a combination of Nick and Erin, they should be tough and also SOOOO fast). That also almost made me want to throw up because people who make their children do that are annoying.

In the end, I settled for Erin Neff Peters - no hyphen, using Neff as my middle name.

When I got home, I was so excited to tell Husband and you know what he said? NOTHING. So traumatic for Erin and what do I get? NOTHING. When I told him that I started to cry in the office, he said, "Well, they should be tears of joy."

The only problem is that I've been Erin Neff for 28 years. Can't I have a little time to mourn my loss?