Am I old enough to be a grandma? I don’t feel old. I certainly don’t look like the granny’s in the storybooks. I work full-time, am an exercise junkie, ride a motorcycle, teach yoga, surf, and wear a two-piece bathing suit. Is there a magical age when you are supposed to turn from mom to grandma and not feel old and out of date?
I was never in a rush for my daughters to have babies. I wanted them to live their lives, travel, and have fun, which they have done. I, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. I couldn’t wait to have children. I wanted them right away. In fact, I loved and still love being a young mom. This might be the reason I am having issues with the change of my moniker.
Will I lose the title of mom forever? I worked hard to be a mom, and I don’t want to lose it. Should I assume the traditional moniker of grandma, choose one I prefer, or let my grandson decide? There are so many choices out there, yet none of them seem just right. I feel like goldie locks and the three bears story. Every name feels just a little bit off.
I am ecstatic that my daughter is having a baby and that I am becoming a grandma. I am told being a grandparent is even better than being a parent. There are far more benefits and none of the difficult times or sleepless nights. So why is the name change thing causing me so much distress? My family thinks I am being ridiculous. They are also no help in choosing a cool name. Everything I suggest they shoot down or become bored with the entire topic.
I have never cared about my age. I think people that obsess over their age (my dad, for one) are nuts. Sorry, dad. I love to celebrate my birthday and, in fact, I want everyone to know how old I am, that is until this year. Turning 55 and becoming a grandma at the same time seems to have hit me harder than I thought. My girlfriends love to tease me, all in good fun, of course, but the reality is I am afraid, and it goes deeper than anyone understands.
The fear that has been hidden or non-existent in my life until now has crept in and caused me to panic. My life is more than halfway over. Have I done enough? Should I be doing more? How quickly can I accomplish what I still want to do? Can I do that now as a grandma? Shouldn’t I have done this as a mom instead? I know rationally I have a good forty years left of my life (longevity runs in my family), so I have plenty of time to kick some serious ass. But just hearing someone call me grandma makes me think of my granny and how little time I had with her. Maybe if I call myself something else, it will be different. I can slow the clock or reverse the time.
I mentioned my dad, who is an amazing man. I am fortunate to have him as my father. When I told him I was pregnant 31 years ago, I am pretty sure he felt the same way I do now. He was thrilled, of course, but could not imagine being a grandpa. He was a young dad, 21, I believe, so an even younger grandpa. In any case, he decided to come up with his own moniker. I don’t know how long it took him, but by the time Alexis was born, so was “OGO” (Ol’ Grand One). We all got a good laugh, but it stuck, and 4 grandkids later and one great-grandson on the way; it’s the perfect name and suits him well. I want a name that fits me and my personality perfectly. One that my grandkids will think is cool and not old-fashioned. One that doesn’t make me feel old and out of date. I want a name that will make the grandkids jump and scream with joy when their parents tell them they will be spending the day with me. Okay, so the excitement will come when they get to do all kinds of fun stuff with me, which will not be a problem. I am already thinking up all the things I want to do with my grandbabies the second I get my hands on them.
I suppose the name is not the most important part about being a grandparent but what you do with them. The stories you share, the time you spend, the hugs you give, the love you show, the lessons you pass on. Yup, I am going to be the best GRANDMA in the whole wide world.
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