I bet my grandmothers never sat around fretting over what their “grandparent name” would be.
As in, “Ernest, do I look like a Grandmother to you?”
Or, “Be honest, Albina. Does Nanny make me sound too country?”
These were conversations I can guaran-dad sob-tee you they never had. Why? Because they were too busy picking cotton, planting okra, milking cows, gathering eggs, killing snakes, sewing, cooking or tending to their own young ‘uns to worry about what cutesy name they should go by. To their generation, any name was good as long as it came out of the mouth of a healthy, happy, well-fed grandbaby and was uttered with love. Names weren’t the human vanity plates they’ve become to our generation, they were just something to be called by when someone craved another cookie, needed a fresh band aid, or was looking for a soft lap to sit on.
But not today. Today names matter. Names can show how hip you still are, the same way wearing your daughter’s favorite brand of jeans and a tiny tee let's people know you’ve still got it... just more of it.
A quick search of the Google for cool grandmother names yielded several sites aimed at hip “grand boomers”- those “busy ladies having too much fun to stop and sit in a rocking chair like their grandmothers did.” It seems now days hot grandmacitas are opting for names like MiMi, NeeNee, Grandie, and Gaggie. Really? Gaggie? Or for those both hip and sophisticated, there are the names Grand-mère and Mèmère. (Preferably complete with those uppity little French accents.) A few more options? How about Ninna, Bella, Oma, YaYa and, for ease in texting, GM.
So what exactly is my point? I’m not sure. Because it’s not like being called Grandmother or Grandma makes one a nobler, better grandparent. Conversely, preferring to be called, say, BoBo (yes, this was on the list) doesn’t necessarily make one a silly, self-indulgent one, no matter how much it may sound like it. I mean, people have the right to choose their own grand-parenting names- Lord knows we didn’t get to choose names for ourselves the first go ‘round. Right, Albina? But does picking one have to be so calculated? That’s the rub.
However, having said all that, I will admit we’re having our own little mini name crisis at our house these days. With our first grandbaby (A GIRL!!!) on the way, John and I have to pick something for ourselves PDQ. I’m not sure about him, but I think I’ve got mine. And no, I won’t be Grandmother, Nanny, or anything quite so pedestrian. I’m going to be Nonnie. Why Nonnie? For years my youngest has called me that, or Non for short. It was her twist on Mommy and Mom, which I never understood, and never particularly liked. At first. But coming from those sweet lips and that sweet face, how could I resist? She could call me anything and I’d be sure to love it eventually. The same will be true of a grandchild. I'm pretty sure whatever that sweet little thang chooses to say when she smiles up at me will be fine and dandy. (As long as it doesn’t, I repeat, DOES NOT, have the word Big in front of it.)
