Last week I received the perfect gift for my seventh wedding anniversary — from a co-worker.

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At a meeting I happened to mention this blog. She checked it out and then sent me a message: “I’m reading your blog and now I’m all confused about what I want to do re: changing my name. Hmm…”

To me, confusion is simply the predecessor to thinking, which, when considering a monumental decision like a name change, is imperative. (The sadness of post-name change regret, as I wrote in January, is magnified because it’s so easily avoided.)

I asked her what she and her significant other had been thinking of doing. “I was going to take his with mine as a middle name. Now maybe we’re both going to hyphenate,” she replied. Hooray! Not only identity preserved but equity!

Happily ever after is so much more likely when both spouses start with their identities intact. So congratulations, M. on thinking ahead, and thanks for the perfect gift.

Comes this cute little T from the Lucy Stone League, which advocates for name choice equality in the spirit of Lucy Stone, the first American woman to keep her birth name after marriage, back in 1856. Get yours today and support a noble cause!

Haiku to Lucy Stone: Female pioneer/First to say: No way, hubby/dear. My name, it stays.

We had our living room painted a couple weeks ago, and the painter was back the other day for a touch-up. In between, I’ve had probably a half-dozen phone calls or conversations with him. He always calls me “Mrs. Noga.”

It’s only logical. He knows my last name, seen me with my two kids, heard me refer to my husband. And technically I suppose it’s not incorrect. I’m married. “Mrs.” is the title for married. (While I don’t understand why a courtesy title needs to convey marital status, I’ve never had a bugaboo about “Mrs.” — unlike the one I have about people assuming I share my husband’s last name.) And since my last name is Noga, ergo, Mrs. Noga.

It’s just that Mrs. Noga has always been my mom.

But I didn’t correct or explain. I didn’t even really smile or shrug privately to myself about how I just don’t seem to wear traditions well.  I just went with it. Though among my own friends’ children I’m usually called by my first name, I know many families that require titles. As my son gets older and starts bringing friends home, I figure I’ll have to learn to live with Mrs. something. It might as well be half right. Right?

Now I’m wondering, though. Does cherry-picking my name peeves make me hypocritical? Will this path of least resistance circle back to box me in? What do you think?