(Musings on Mother’s Day - 2018)
“Children are the rainbow of life; grandchildren are the pot of gold.” – An Irish Blessing
Oh, yeah. Grandchildren are golden. Being a grandparent is sublimely fun. One of the enjoyable aspects of today’s grandparenthood is picking your “grand” name. Mine is JJ. Rice’s is Big Daddy, or BD for short. A couple of our friends are Pippa and Pops. One of my long-time friends with fourteen grandkids to date has been Grandma from the start. Her husband has been Grandpa. They don’t get the fuss over finding an alternate name.
Power to ‘em, but the alternate name game abounds. Grand moms can now be Bella or Lolly or Queenie. GiGi or Mia. To add to the fun, here are some celebrity grandparent names I came across while surfing the net. Susan Sarandon is Honey. Goldie Hawn, Glamma or GoGo, depending on which set of grandkids you ask. Kris Jenner is Lovey; Kaitlyn Jenner is Kaitlyn. Debbie Reynolds was Aba Daba, and Joan Rivers was Nana New Face. (Oy!) Martin Sheen is Peach. Sharon Osbourne is Shazza. Have no fear; traditionalism still exists among some of the famous. Jane Fonda is Grandma, Sally Field is Granny, and Nancy Pelosi is Grandma Mimi. Then there’s Martha Stewart, who is Martha. And Donald Trump? He’s Mr. Trump, so they say.
Yes, we grands today like to do things our own way. We grandmamas in particular like to act young and chic and fun. We prefer that to showing our fears. Fear that a pregnancy might get complicated. It might not go to term as expected. Even if it does, mom or baby might have health issues. Immediately. Or down the road. Modern medicine is a marvel. Most times health and wellness prevail. Not always, though. The grand life holds no guarantees. Except perhaps connection.
"Grandchildren are the dots that connect the lines from generation to generation." ― Lois Wyse
My own mother has been gone since 2012. She wasn’t one to say “I love you” to her children as she believed that actions speak louder than words. (She did say it to her grandkids, pictured with her above.) I remember as a teen, running in to Mooney’s Ice Cream to get us a treat while Mom waited in the car. She’d asked for “something with chocolate,” and I brought her a tin roof sundae ice cream cone, one of my favorites, vanilla laced with chocolate swirls and peanuts. I could tell from the look on her face the minute I delivered it that she wasn’t pleased. “I said chocolate,” she told me as she tossed the whole thing out the car window onto the street. Did I mention she could be fierce?
Mom could be flaky, too. She one time put the coffee maker—cord and all—through the express cycle of the dishwasher. She plugged it in to use again, and she lived to tell us all about it. She could be ditzy with names, too, even those of her own grandchildren. When asked if she remembered the name of her first grandson shortly after his birth, she replied, “I want to say Melvin.” Whatever possessed her to say that, we’ll never know. She died three weeks later.
I can only wish she was still here to meet our newest little love, granddaughter Charli Rose (pictured with brother Britton, below). Certainly the name would’ve given Mom pause! I strongly suspect she would’ve tried to rename this little one, too. What can I say?
Despite my mother’s imperfections, she loved us all fiercely. How do I have faith that this is so? By connecting the lines from generation to generation. Whether our kiddos are breaking our flawed hearts…or filling them to the popping point, a mother’s love is fierce. A grandmother’s is as well. So cheers to us!
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