On Getting Old, Grandma-style

I have a feeling I worry more about getting old than the average woman.

Hard to know for sure, but it seems that way from  conversations with friends.

But I had a moment come over me like a voice from the universe.

On September 7.

Cliff and I were leaving the hospital in Charlottevsille, Virginia.

We’d just spent two hours with our brand new grandson, Mazen.

It’s okay, the moment said.

Mazen’s here.

You’re the grandma.

He’s the baby.

That’s how it goes.

And the going is good!

Grandma by Any Other Name Will Sound as Sweet

The baby above, one of my babies, is having a baby.

Grandma.

Me.

Yes!

I’d love to say something profound about grandmothering.

But although I’m the mother of two girls, I don’t know beans about being a GRANDMOTHER.

Yet.

Everyone asks what I want to be called.

Anything short of  “Hey You” will do.

Well, actually, if the baby wants to call me  “Hey You, ” that might just be okay.

After all, this is my grandchild!

The only thing I really know about grandmothering, thus far, is that the baby, due August 31, will not be wearing Katherine’s pretty white dress, saved oh so many years

Because…

HOW FUN!

BTW, advice is welcome!  I’ve heard we’re not supposed to offer advice to the parents, but you can send me a whole bassinetful. Thanks!