Who you calling Grandma?
Lori Borgman | Monday, April 20, 2009
I always wondered if I’d become as crazy as other
women do when they become grandmothers. You know, the grandma charm
bracelets, the 8x10 sitting on the dashboard, the billboard in the
front yard.
Our first grandbaby arrived and the answer is
yes.
When we visited the world’s most beautiful grandbaby
in the hospital, I noticed she had one of those chunky plastic security
tags on her leg.
My daughter-in-law explained that the security
tag would set off an alarm if somebody – anybody -- tried to remove
the baby from the premises.
I smiled at the daughter-in-law who absolutely
glowed.
I then whispered to the baby that I could slip
that security tag right off her beautiful little leg and we could
give hospital security a run for their money.
I told her I had a vehicle ready to go in the
parking lot.
I told her that I would buy Peanut Butter Captain
Crunch, hire circus clowns and let her stay up until midnight playing
Wii, if she would come home with me.
I vaguely remember security guards dragging me
from the Family Life Center over my vehement protests.
Who knew grandparenting could turn violent?
On the upside, it gave me a little more time to
mull over the whole moniker thing.
People keep asking if I’ve chosen a name for myself.
I didn’t know grandmothers chose names. I thought you just waited
to see what the kids hung on you and went with it.
I have a friend about to become a grandma who
will consent to being called grandma only on the condition that
others say, “You a grandma? No way! You’re too young!”
Being called grandma was not an issue for my grandmother’s
generation. When they had grandbabies, they threw a tint of blue
into their white hair, put on a shirtwaist dress, an apron and went
to the kitchen to begin baking cookies.
Today’s grandmas are wearing stilettos, getting
chemical peels, botox injections and going on cruises to Hawaii
with their live-in boyfriends. They don’t bake cookies; they send
gift cards from Target.
I’ve pondered being called grandma and the alternate
possibilities.
Oma is out as it was my mother-in-law’s given
name and will always belong to her. Nana is good, but sounds like
a woman who has her hair done and always matches her shoes with
her purse.
Granny is out. I don’t have a truck or a nephew
named Jed.
I have been toying with Lovie. It sounds a bit
mushy, but the name was inspired by Lovie Smith of the Chicago Bears.
I could be a grandmother who took her nickname from an NFL coach.
Still, some kids can’t make their l sounds until
they’re 5. Until then it would be Wuvie, which sounds like
some dirty, gray blanket a kid wore to shreds and still drags around
in public.
I’m OK with Grandma. And hey, if you want to tell
me I look too young to be a grandma, that’s your business.
All that really matters is that the world’s most
beautiful baby makes a break for it and gets to grandma’s house
real soon. I know you won’t be eating solids for another 12 months,
sweetie, but I’ve got the oven preheating!
