Thursday, September 13, 2012

Warning! This Post Contains Foul and Funny Language!

We're about to become grandparents. And when I say about to, I mean truly, any minute now, our first grandchild, a grandson, is rolling out. This brings two questions up fairly frequently and they both have to do with names.

First, people want to know what his name is going to be. Yes I do know it, but I am sworn to secrecy. The second question is easier to answer, but involves a funny story. (My favorite kind.)

"What will he call you?" my friends want to know.

It seems that people of my "Boomer" generation make a big deal about the grandparent name they plan to use. Should it be "Grandma" (too old)  or "Bubbie" (too ethnically Jewish)? "Nona" (too ethnically Italian) or "Grandmother" (again-- too old-sounding)? "Nana" (only works if you knit) or "G-Mom"? (only works if you work for the FBI). My childhood friend had two grandmothers. One she called "Nana" and the other she called "Grandmother Greenland." (the grandmother's last name.) I always wondered if Grandmother Greenland could tell from that name that she was not the favorite grandma. Seemed obvious to me.

Other than that, I've never thought about what one calls their grandmother. I didn't have one, I've never been one; this has never been meaningful in my life. Well, until last year when a friend who was an impending grandma asked me to develop a list of names she might like for her grandchild to call her.

I had no idea this was a thing. I figured the baby is born and magically, when he starts to talk, he figures out how he feels about you and calls you that. (In which case, he's likely to call me Cookie because I plan to take up baking oatmeal raisin cookies and giving him those.)

But, since I had to answer the question, I decided to spend some time carefully choosing my grandparent moniker.

Which brings me to the story...

A few years back we met a family (friends of our friends) of three generations. The grandparents, the parents (who were my age) and their kids. The grandchildren all called their grandparents Bubbie and Dick. This wouldn't have been funny except that:

a. Bubbie, the Jewish name for grandmother, is what they called the grandfather. And, these folks aren't Jewish.
b. Dick is what they called the grandmother.

Dick?!!!

So, after a while, we had to know the origin. We asked our friends to ask their friends how this "unusual" name came about. Here's the explanation they returned brought back.

When the first grandchild was born, she tried to say "Grandmother" but it came out "Dick." And it stuck!

But, my husband said, couldn't have they just said, "No, it's not Dick. It's "Grandmother,"... or Nana...or Bubbie, or Nona, or pretty much anything better than "Dick.'"

To what would they have said "No"? What if the little girl tried to say "Grandmother" but it came out "C___sucker"? Or "Motherf___er"?  Would they have let that stick?

So, my husband suggested that when we became grandparents, we were drawing a line somewhere. If it came out "Schmuck" or "Douchebag," okay, but anything worse and we would just say NO!

When I shared this story with my friend Patti, grand arbiter of all things funny, she cracked up. When she found out we were expecting a grandchild, she sent me the pack of gum pictured here.

 So, clearly, we're not so original. Someone else thinks "Douchebag" is an acceptable name.

Which brings me to my grandmother name of choice. I'm going with "Grammy."

I hope.