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!
