Me….A Grandparent?

Me… a grandparent? Wow! When did that happen? It can’t be me…

…grandparents are someone who is old, gray hair wrapped into a tight bun, wrinkly smiles and when visiting there was always the smell of something yummy wafting from the kitchen.

I never “got the memo” on grandparenting, I don’t have gray hair, never wore it in a bun and as for baking, let along cooking, the only thing wafting from my kitchen is still smell of something recently burnt.

As I reflect back, I was a multi-tasking working parent, managing family, career, activities and trying to find a free minute to myself one day and today, I officially became a grandparent. Where did the time go?

So, the time did fly and there are defining moments that start today, with the introduction of this new addition…my first grandchild. What does he call me? Growing up, the answer was the traditional view. There was my Grandma and Grandpa, the parents of my mom. On my dad’s side there was Grandpa Frank and Bushi (the polish word for grandma).

Easy, I could probably grab one of those, or one might think so, but unfortunately no. There are now step grandparents, divorced grandparents, regular grandparents on both sides of the family and of course the vying for a name that the others in the extended were personally familiar with made it a race to grabbing the coveted name that will be remembered for generations to come.

The core grandparents grab the coveted Grandma Cindy and Marilyn, another Grandma? I think not. Since I am the step grandparent, Grandma Carlene just had more baggage then was worth debating, so the selection for me wasn’t going to be as easy.

So, I looked beyond the traditional. What did my parents call themselves? Was it a conscious decision? I find out the answer was a definitive yes! My mom grew up with the Shirley Temple movies (google search her before she was a UN Ambassador) and Heidi being her favorite movie. She decided that the caring powerful and protective Grandfather from the movie would be my dad’s name and hers Grandmother. As the daughter with the first grandchild, I voiced a mild concern that those names might be a mouthful for a young child. Lesson #1, kids are a sieve and learn whatever you want to teach them. Want to be called Grandmother? No problem, just say it often, refer to yourself as such and the name will stick. Now 30 years later, when discussing my parents, Grandmother and Grandfather rolls trippingly off the tongue of all the grandkids. Mom, you were very wise.

So, back to my dilemma? I needed a name. Some of the names that made the short list were Oma and Opa, German for grandparents, but not being German took that quickly off the list, heading down the language route, Grand mere & Grand pere was viewed and dropped, there was Baba & Gigi, Nana & Papa, MeMaw and Pawpaw. Ugh.

Taking a step back, I looked at my relationship with my stepson, who I knew since he was 5 years old. Not being able to call me Mom while growing up, which felt wrong on so many levels, he and I came up with our own personal term of endearment. He is known by all as Michael or Mike, but only Mi to me, and no one else, and I, Car, a shorten version of my name, Carlene.

The decision was clear, expand our personal term of endearment to represent me, Lucas’ grandmother is now and forever called, Carma.

My grandson is only 7 months old but Carma is going to share the story, so Lucas not only continues to call me Carma but understands the why to play it forward for generations to come.

Would love to hear what you decided to call yourself?