My nine-year-old daughter came home last week and said we needed to buy a baby gift for a teacher at her school.

“His name is Ikea,” Daisy said excitedly.

“Whose name is Ikea?” I asked, not knowing if she was referring to the teacher or the infant.

“Mr. Verstraete’s baby,” she said. “He’s a boy!”

“Ikea?” I asked. “Are you sure his name’s Ikea?”

“Yes, of course,” she responded, as though I was nuts for asking.

But I guess anything goes nowadays when it comes to names. I shouldn’t have been surprised about a child sharing the same moniker as a Swedish store, particularly after reading in the news that someone named their baby Hashtag, inspired by a commonly-used social media symbol.

And who am I to judge? Once upon a time I was considered weird for the name I had chosen for my firstborn.

“Buster is a dog’s name,” I was scolded countless times during my pregnancy when I made the mistake of sharing the name I’d picked out. So what, I thought. It was also the name of a famous actor and an even more famous shoe.

I absolutely loved the name Buster. It was fun and strong and it had character. I wasn’t about to let the opinions of others change my mind. Except there was one opinion that kind of mattered: that of Buster’s dear old dad.

“Let’s think of a few other options and pick one once he’s born,” Paul reasoned. Fine, I thought. He’ll fall in love with the name by then for sure.

But when our beautiful baby boy arrived with his spiky, blonde hair he didn’t look like a Buster to either of us. He looked like a Sam, so that’s what we called him.

“Buster would have been fine,” my friend, who’s a teacher, said about my original choice. “It’s all the purposely misspelled and hard-to-pronounce names that drive me crazy.”

Like Quvenzhane?

My daughter and I recently saw the movie Beasts of the Southern Wild with Quvenzhane Wallis, the youngest Oscar-nominated actor in history, and we immediately nicknamed her Q. It just seemed easier.

If anyone’s to blame for names getting stranger and more unique as the years go by, let’s blame the celebrities.  I mean, really – who was naming their kids anything all that bizarre before Frank Zappa introduced his children Dweezil, Moon Unit, Ahmet and Diva Thin Muffin to the world?

At the time, people were horrified. Since then, many celebrities have followed suit and it’s become the norm in Hollywood.

Names like Alcamy, Apple, Banjo, Bingham, Blue Angel, Blue Ivy, Destry, Exton, Fifi Trixibelle, Jermajesty, Kal-El, Kyd, Maddox, Memphis Eve, Moses, Ocean, Pilot Inspektor, Rocket, Rumer, Seargeoh and the list goes on. Heck, actor Rob Morrow named his child Tu. How would you like to have the name Tu Morrow?

With websites out there dedicated to listing all the strange names that babies are getting saddled with these days, it’s easy to see that this trend is growing. Am I complaining? Nah. Why not get creative and unique when naming our offspring? This certainly can’t be worse than giving them a name that they share with three other kids in the class.

Naming our children is a big responsibility, and everyone’s not going to like what we choose. But as long as we’re picking names we truly love and not just making up stuff so we can laugh at how hilarious we are, we should be okay. If the kid ends up hating their name, which some do, “normal” or not, they can always legally change it to something else later.

Ikea might do that. Except, his name’s not actually Ikea. Turns out it’s Atticus.

I guess I’ll be returning my gift of an Ikea train set and getting him a copy of “To Kill a Mockingbird” instead.

Lori Welbourne is a syndicated columnist. She can be contacted at LoriWelbourne.com 

The most magical moment of my life was holding my first child right after he was born. The only other moment that can match that happened three years later when I was blessed with my second child, a beautiful baby girl.

Would I want to repeat that experience and have a third? No thanks, I’m happy with two, and my husband is as well. Our children, on the other hand, want more.

“I don’t see why we can’t have another baby,” our eight-year-old daughter pleaded recently.

“Yeah,” her 11-year-old brother agreed. “We’ll do all the work, we promise!”

Right. I’m pretty sure I heard them singing that tune a couple of years back when they were begging for dogs. That time, I caved. This time, I won’t.

I loved the baby stage and every time I see a baby, precious memories come flooding back. Yet I never have that longing desire to have more because my family already feels complete. I also don’t want to be outnumbered.

“Why don’t you babysit instead?” I suggested to the kids. “I have friends who have babies. While I visit with the mommies you two could play with their little ones.”

Thinking that was a grand idea, Daisy handed me the phone so I could make instant arrangements. If only I could have been this clever when they were asking for puppies.

One of my best friends has a BBB rating for her current mood in motherhood and I’ll never forget when she first told me about it.

“I find myself feeling either blessed, burdened or buzzed,” she said sipping her glass of wine after dinner. Slurping back a Baileys and coffee at the time, I completely agreed.

Being a mom is the most glorious, rewarding and joyful gift imaginable. Yet it can also be the most challenging, frustrating and overwhelming job ever. Alternating between these mindsets is just part of the gig. If you’re a mom and this never happens to you, you must be a saint. I am not.

I’m just a typical busy mom trying to strike a balance that works well for me and my family while doing my best to feel blessed way more often than burdened or buzzed. Some days are easier than others, but Mother’s Day should be a breeze.

On that day I’m likely to receive wonderful homemade gifts and be showered with love and affection. If I’m really lucky, the kids will pick up their stuff lying all over the house, figure out where it goes, and put it away.

In honour of my inspiring grandmothers, my loving mother-in-law and my beautiful mother who brought me into this world when she was still just a child herself, I thank all the mothers out there who are also doing their best. Whether we’re rich or poor, working or not, married or single, all good moms want the same thing: to raise healthy, happy people who feel loved and love life.

Isn’t that what we wished for them the first time we held them in our arms?

To watch my son interviewing kids for Mother’s Day, please visit KidTalkWithSam.com or CLICK HERE to watch on YouTube.

In our house Valentine’s Day is about the kids, just as it was when I was a child.

When my brother and I were young our mother made a big deal out of this special day. She made a big deal out of every holiday, but for some reason I remember especially liking February 14th. It might have had something to do with the chocolate.

Not only would we get a few chocolates in our lunch that day at school, we would also get a few more when we got home. And my favourite treat of the day was dessert. I remember the first time she made us a delicious heart shaped chocolate cake with red icing and pink sprinkles. And even though our grandfather jokingly croaked out “It’s dry,” like he always did when he bit into cake, it was the moistest, most delicious piece of heaven I’d ever tasted.

But Valentine’s Day wasn’t just about the chocolate. It was a day to celebrate and express our love for one another. It was a really great day all around.

When I got older the holiday seemed to take on a new meaning, more about romantic love. I didn’t start dating until I was 19 so this was just an observation for me as I listened to my friends who were either elated with the gifts and cards given to them, or disappointed by what they did or didn’t get. When I finally joined the complicated world of dating, I noticed that I lacked the romantic streak most of my friends had.

“I wouldn’t bother buying me flowers,” I told more than one suitor. “They’re just going to die.” I didn’t say it to be ungrateful, but rather to be practical. Of course chocolates would die too, but at least they’d melt slowly in my mouth as they wilted away to nothing.

Once I became a mother, Valentine’s Day became a kid holiday all over again. Even when my firstborn was just a baby, and had no idea what was going on, I was writing him love letters and dressing him in red. Once his little sister came along he got into the action too. She was almost three years younger and he was immediately so full of love for her that when an actual holiday rolled around and was geared towards the expression of love for one another, he was keen to express it.

When Daisy was old enough, the two of them would spend hours on their arts and crafts making presents and cards and decorating the house. Their enthusiasm for the day reminded me of my mom’s.

The big day of love is on a Tuesday this year and as usual they’ll be celebrating at school, and for the first time 11-year-old Sam will be going to a Valentine’s dance at his school in the evening. Daisy was eager to go as well, contemplating who should be her date. She was disappointed, however, to find out it was only for the sixth graders.

Seems that both my kids are noticing the romantic side to the day quite a bit earlier than I did. Good grief. Where’s the chocolate when I need it?

To watch the video that accompanies this column and see how other kids feel about Valentine’s Day please visit LoriWelbourne.com

Years ago, as a typical little kid with a toothless grin, I remember the song my friends and I sang with great delight in class: “All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth.” I thought it was written just for us.

Years later, it’s interesting to see what other memories have stuck with me. I recall being acutely aware that Santa knew when I was bad or good and that I should be good for goodness sake. And I was good, exceptionally good. Until I wasn’t.

When I was bad I imagined him watching me in his crystal ball. You know – the same one the Wicked Witch used in The Wizard of Oz to keep tabs on Dorothy and her trio. Except Santa wouldn’t be cackling, scary and green, he’d be ho-ho-ho-ing, jolly and red.

Why would I be comparing Santa Claus with the Wicked Witch of the East? Perhaps because The Wizard of Oz was my favourite movie and the only time I ever saw it was at Christmas when it was on TV. This was well before the days of video machines and DVD players, so watching it once a year became a cherished annual tradition.

If you think connecting Santa Claus and the Wicked Witch is odd, get this: I was convinced that Father Christmas and God were best friends, or what my daughter would now call BFFs. I feared that if one missed out on my bad behaviour, the other would surely notice and tell his pal. Maybe even over a glass of milk and cookies.

In thinking about what was going through my young, impressionable and narcissistic mind way back when, I wondered what young children were thinking about now, and what thoughts they had about Santa. I was also curious what they might ask him if he showed up in their classroom one day.

So my 11-year-old son and I asked his school principal if we could bring in Santa Tom, a professional Santa Claus, to surprise the Kindergarten kids and invite them to ask him questions on camera. I have no idea what I would have asked him when I was that age, but I’m guessing that much like some of these kids, I would have been far too shy to say anything to him at all.

Yet many others weren’t shy and had some interesting questions for him, ones that had little or nothing to do with presents. Getting a glimpse of Santa through the eyes of these children was a fun experience and not unlike what I go through with my own kids.

To Sam and Daisy, Christmas is the most magical time of year and everything about it is fun – Santa included.

“If you don’t believe in Santa he won’t bring you presents,” I overheard my son counselling his eight year old sister last December.

“Why wouldn’t I believe in him?” she asked with surprise.

“Oh, um, you know,” he replied. “Some kids just don’t for some reason.”

“Well that’s dumb,” she said dismissively.

Fast forward to this year as they embark on another magical Christmas season enjoying traditions and creating memories they’ll likely confuse with other recollections as I have done.

In the meantime, they’ll be doing their best to stay on Santa’s “nice” list, as will I.

To see Santa’s visit with the kindergarten kids please visit LoriWelbourne.com to watch the video.

Canadians are known for their love of hockey, and if my family is any example, that perception is bang-on. It’s a little less so with the black sheep of our family, namely the one whose words you’re reading right now.

I could never quite understand the immense appeal hockey held for my parents and my brother and just about everyone else in my world. But I could bandwagon with the best of them and became almost obsessed with the Vancouver Canucks when they were playing for the Stanley Cup back in 1994. And I was lucky enough to attend every home game they played during that series.

Now living in the much smaller town of West Kelowna, going to an NHL game isn’t as easy for me as it used to be.  But I can still hop on the bandwagon – and Hockeyville has me jumping on with both feet.

Okay, I’ll admit it, I didn’t even know what Hockeyville was until last week. But once I found out I was hooked, and the reason had little to do with hockey and much to do with community spirit.

It’s the coming together of people and the mutual excitement they feel about something positive that draws me in and makes me want to contribute.

For those of you wondering what Hockeyville is, please, allow me to enlighten you. Actually called Kraft Hockeyville (since Kraft is its sponsor),  it’s a nationally-televised contest on CBC that encourages small towns across Canada to compete for a terrific grand prize: $100,000 in upgrades to the local arena, a broadcast spot on Hockey Night in Canada and the honour of hosting a pre-season game between two NHL teams in their arena.

Just last week it was announced that West Kelowna was bidding to become Hockeyville 2012, and already the community is getting involved.

But it’s going to take a lot to capture the attention of the judges who will undoubtedly be inundated with stories from hockey lovers across the country, all hoping to win the coveted prize for their own hometown. Even those individuals who aren’t overly interested in the sport itself, should support West Kelowna’s bid, especially for the national attention and resulting economic boon it has brought past winners.

“The deadline for submitting stories, videos and pictures describing West Kelowna’s love of hockey and why we should be chosen is January 31, 2012,” said Andrew Deans, the director of operations for the Westside Warriors. “Our goal is to break the existing record and have 2000 submissions before that date. That would make them take notice of the amazing community spirit we have here.”

To show your support, register and submit content to KraftHockeyville.cbc.ca

If someone like me, who isn’t a hockey enthusiast, can get swept up in an event like this, I can just imagine how much influence true fans could have in bringing Hockeyville to the Okanagan. It’s all about community spirit – and we have that in spades … or should I say, blades?

To hear what other think about this, please watch my video at LoriWelbourne.com 

Before I became a mother I was the type of person who made a big deal out of Halloween. I’d go to significant lengths to create a fairly unique costume and then wear it to work regardless of the level of Halloween spirit at my workplace that particular year.

There were times I worked for companies with plenty of people in costume, and sometimes their offices were even decorated with cobwebs and other spooky paraphernalia. Dressing up for that environment was always a hoot.

And then there were other times when I was one of the few weirdos dressed up on the 31st of October. Like 17 years ago when I worked for a large conservative government agency and showed up at my new place of employment decked out like Madonna. With half of my eyebrows shaved off and drawn into an arch, a high Jeannie-style ponytail, and two pointy prominent cones poking through my pin-striped suit, I thought I looked good.

My boyfriend’s sister, who also worked there and was not in costume, called their mother immediately to report my attire.

The following year my future mother-in-law looked relieved when I showed up at her house trick-or-treating with her son as the less sexy Marge Simpson and Krusty the Klown.

Over the years I continued to assemble costumes for my friends and me that were fun and funny. Dressing up my reluctant husband in drag as Monica Lewinsky and Tinkerbell was particularly enjoyable.

But none of that compared to the fun of dressing up my children.

When we had our first baby 11 years ago I made a bumblebee costume for him as well as for us and we took our precious two month old to his first Halloween party as the baby in our Beatnik Bee Family.

When our second child arrived a few years later, our son Sam had his own ideas about how he and his sister should dress up.

“I’ll be Winnie the Pooh and Daisy can be Piglet,” he said the first Halloween she was walking. “Because we’re best friends – just like them.”

I made a beautiful discovery that year: the simplicity of store-bought costumes. Not only were they less expensive and saved me hours of time, but they were every bit as fun as the costumes I’d created from scratch. In fact, keeping it simple made it even better for all of us. And more flexible as well.

After finding her favourite had-to-have-costume and parading around the house for a couple days as the delightful Big Bird from Sesame Street, our eight year old daughter eventually altered it to a more haunting “Big Bird, dead bird Zombie” combination by adding some make-up and props. And, consistent with the past several years, the week before the big day arrived, she was begging to be something entirely different.

“I saw the cutest sock hop outfit ever!” she said after promising not to change her mind this time. “Seriously, Mom! It’s the cutest dress on Earth and it even has a sheep on it!”

Interesting. I hope it comes in her daddy’s size as well.

To see why other kids look forward to Halloween and to hear their costume picks this year, watch my son’s pumpkin patch interviews at LoriWelbourne.com