What's In a Name?

I was brought to my emotional knees slobbering over the thought of becoming a grandparent. I spent months imagining the joys of bonding with a few pounds of flesh that’s wrapped like a baby burrito in a little blanket that will, in all likelihood, evolve into the threadbare, filthy rag the little our prince will drag around for the next few years in a tiny-fisted death grip.

Yet somewhere inside that broad fantasy of grandparenting lurks an all-important question. What name will my grandkids call me?

Let me state the obvious, I will have absolutely no control over this, since little ones have minds and mouths of their own. So, about the time our sweet bundle of joy begins to vocalize, I will say, “Can you just say Grandma J’? Yes, you can, little sweetness… yes you can, my little prince.” And finally, miracle of miracles, the kid will probably burp out something like “glabooc.” Or “vlack-vlack baba,” or some other mumbo-jumbo, and it will be as if a white-hot iron will brand that name on my forehead, and nothing I say or do can ever change it. Until I keel over at 103, I will be forever known by that ridiculous nickname. And like a really bad meal at a very expensive restaurant, I will claim to love it.

A perfect example of this is my own Mother. Since the time she was a baby her nick name was Sis, given to her by her older brother. Her Mom and Dad called her that, her aunts and uncles, her cousins and even some of her friends. So it was perfectly natural to assume that when she became a Grandma, she would be called ‘Grandma Sis”. This was her handle through 7 of her grandchildren, no problems, no mispronunciations, no confusion. That was until my sweet little Tanner was born. Once he could start babbling and recognizing people, he turned Grandma Sis into Grammersisses. Of course we all thought it was cute and my mom now is called Grammer Sis. Even her email address is grammersis@msn.com. Another example is that of my Grandma Beal. She was Grandma Beal my whole life and even my kids knew her as that. However one swift move to St. George and she is now known as Grandma Duck by all the Great Grandchildren, due to the fact the she has ducks in her back yard. So my point here is that even though I think I should be called a certain name by my Grandchildren doesn’t mean I will get my way. I might be one name to Brighton, and another to some other sweet soul. It will be interesting to hear what the 'Baby Burrito' will be able to say in a year from now and what he might decide to call us all.

I know it is very hard to beleive, but with all the second marriages and people just living longer, other than the people pictured, this little guy has 3 more Grandparents, 6 more Greatgrantparents, and 2 Great-Greatgrandparents........he will have to come up with quite a few names!