Baby Names

In case there is anyone out there who is not yet informed, the Lanier's are expecting their second child. I am sure anyone reading this knows. Beyond the people I have actually told myself, there have been a number of spoilers to this pregnancy; first a woman my sister works with told my dad about the pregnancy before I had worked up the nerve to, and then my sisters best friend told her the sex of the baby before I had talked to her. (How does my sister's BF know the sex of the baby before my sis? I sent out a mass text to most of the people in my phone, alerting them of the newest Lanier's gender, saving only a few special people, i.e. my sister, to actually call. Since my sister never answers my calls, the spoiler was actually her fault, not Paula's, who could only reasonably expect that my sister would have already known.)
Anyways...
The Lanier house is in a flurry (somewhat) as we prepare for our new arrival. Though we actually do not have a bedroom for him and got rid of Marley's crib just days before we found out about this new pregnancy, I am fairly confident that these minor wrinkles will smooth themselves out along the way. Some expectant Mom's would be getting worked up at this point, less then three months from the due date; not I. Some of my calm may be attributed to the documentary, "Babies." Following babies of different cultures in their first year of life has calmed some of my nerves about our own delivery. For instance, the mother of the African baby does not have a crib for her new one. She does not even have diapers, and is completely unruffled that her child used a bone he found half buried in the dirt as a teether. The Mongolian baby shares his quarters with the families chickens. By comparison, the parenting techniques of the parents in more "advanced" nations seem overbearing and stiffling. What four month old really needs to go to music lessons or cares if it goes to a weekly play date with other four months old who cannot yet sit up by themselves? New, clean clothes every single day seems like an extravgent measure when compared to the single loin cloth the African baby owns. By comparison,I can almost certainly say that I will never shave my babies head with a knife, or give him bathes by licking him clean. In these examples, I only speak for myself; Josh is a wild card, but I do my best to keep him under control.
One thing I am starting to think about more frequently is the name of this little guy. This is the first question that people ask when they hear about the pregnancy. Josh and I had previously worked out a system that I would get to name the girls and he would get to name the boys, with each of us having the power of veto. (As I was fairly certain we would have a long line of beautiful girls, I was great with these terms, though now that we are having a boy, it seems less novel.) The name Josh had decided for a boy from the time we found out about our first child was Harper. Now, mere weeks away from his real son's debut in the world, Josh is uncertain if he still likes the name. Now he is leaning towards much more, shall we say, contemporary names, such as Memphis or Blu. Marley, always the helper, has also been full of suggestions; some of her favorites are Skylash, Bookarea, and Foottrouble. Those or her neverfail suggestion of Ballerina. With all these great choices, I am unsure which to veto first. Though I know my husband is a free spirit, I never thought I would have to talk him out of naming his first-born son Jam.