Name of the Game: Storytime- The One with Chex and Starfish

Chex. Starfish. "Hey, you."

That's all me.

I used to hate being called anything but my full name. Whenever my mom called me anything other then Chelsea--even "honey"--I would throw one of those very special four-year-old fits. To my four-year-old mind, calling someone a name they were not was bad--insult or not. 

Except little kids have a problem with "ch".

 It's hard to make your mouth form that shape. "A" is easy; "no" is a piece of cake. "Ch"? Not so much. Being the oldest, I got called just about every incarnation of my name you could think of. For a while, my brothers would call me and my sister my the same name because Alisse is easier to figure out how to pronounce. 

Then it was "Essie", "Tessie" and one of them made a valiant effort and called me "T-elle-sea"(pronounce as written), until the "ch" sound was able to properly come out of their cute little mouths. 

School was another problem. I was in a classroom with "Chelsea", "Chelsey", "Chelsie", and even a "Chealsie"(no joke, that's how she spelled it). From the time I was in kindergarten, I had to learn the delightful art of rubbernecking so that I could figure out who was talking to me and who was not. As I said, a problem. A problem I changed my sophomore year in high school. 

There were several vending machines near the Drama Club hang out spot, and the auditorium. Every time we got a rehearsal break, I made a beeline for these machines. Because they had Chex Mix. For thirty-five cents. And for some reason, I always had a quarter and a dime floating around in my pocket somewhere. 

Guys, I LUV Chex Mix--any and all flavors, all the time. Chocolate, Strawberry, Traditional, Party Blend, Rice, Corn, Honey Nut--ok, fine, so I stay away from Chipotle and Jalapeno, but anything else I'll eat.

By the bag. 

And by the end of my sophomore year, every member of the Drama Club knew it. 

I decided I was going to be one of those really cool people with a nickname--because in the high school clique system, all the cool people have nicknames, right? So that was my name through the rest of high school--Chex. And you know, it was awesome! No one else had that name, so no more rubbernecking, no more wondering which "Chelsea" was being addressed, none of that. 

Starfish, though. 

That's different.  

I am not the most coordinated, nor the most athletic person in the world. My hand-eye coordination is next to nil, which--when you grow up with four boys--is kind of a problem. 

Sure, when they're little, they will do whatever you ask them. For the most part. And then they hit--I don't know, six? seven? and start doing their own thing--and you as an older sibling are entitled to play with them. Their game of choice? 

Now, when all four of the boys were home, this was not a problem. They would play together, and I'd watch. Or something. Now that at least two of them are not home much, and a third is more interested in building things rather than a basketball, guess what I get to do when I do the family visit thing. 

I can barely dribble.   

And my brother knows it. 

He also finds it vastly entertaining when I try and make free throw shots because when I'm in the air I have less control over my body than I do when my feet are firmly planted on the ground. So it does weird things. 

Like going spread-eagled in mid-air and sending the ball flying.

In the wrong direction. 

Yeah. 

I missed the shot. 

And I was standing right in front of the stupid basket. 

And from then on, I was affectionately known as Starfish. 

Yeah, apparently, this is what I looked like. That's literally, not figuratively.

So I have gone from being absolutely against nicknames to loving them. I know longer give anybody dagger eyes when they call me something that isn't my given name. I have adopted a new "policy". 

I will answer to whatever you want to call me.

Just make it nice.