Well ain’t that grandé
I’m standing firm, garbed with the belt of truth opinion, a breastplate of self-righteousness, and my feet fitted with the readiness to kick parents’ asses everyhwere: Yes, it’s another post about childish things by someone who doesn’t have children. Assess my ethos and get riled up accordingly.
This week’s topic: Grandparent names. I remember when my first sibling procreated and the discussion of what my parents should be called by the impending grandchildren –
[because, y'know, "Grandma" and "Grandpa" just wouldn't do, oh no! -- grandparents these days need unique names, not unlike parents who think an alternate spelling will showcase their child's uniqueness (instead of "Michelle" it's "Meeschelle"; instead of "Susie" it's "Souziee"; instead of "Chelsea" it's...hey, wait a minute...), and that same vanity appears to affect all generations, young and old; because grandparents these days aren't "grandma," they're "gramma" or "mimi" or "meemaw"; not "grandpa" but "pawpaw" or "poppy"]
– and, figuring that what my parents’ grandchildren called them wouldn’t really affect me, I offered my suggestions: “Grumps” and “Grim.” That was probably the first time my mom was even a tiny bit glad that I’m not having children. Suffice it to say, my family went in another direction with the name choices, and I was left to my child-free devices. Little did I know that listening to the sound of my nieces and nephew calling my parents “Pops” and “Grammie Lou” WOULD DRIVE ME UP THE WALL.
[Fortunately, my personality is such that the wall and I are intimate acquaintances, so much so that my foot- and handholds are quite well worn.]
It’s not that I want every grandparent to be “grandma” and “grandpa”, nor do I think everyone should have a “traditional” (or white/Anglo) name like “Tom” or “Sally.” Far from it. But I do find the overplanning wearisome — yet another part of a child’s life decided for him or her — and I would prefer to see grandparents’ names evolve naturally. Sure, go with “nana” if a child couldn’t pronounce “grandma” and it was this cute malapropism the kid hung onto. I see no problem with that. But to purposefully decide to misspell or go phonetic — is that necessary?
Not that it matters, mind you; my parents already have their new grandparent names firmly affixed, so were the flying pigs of hell to freeze over and we to have children, they’d probably go with the names established by the more procreationally inclined siblings.
Actually, to hell with hegemony; I’ll teach my kids to call their grandparents by their first names. Ha! Take that, Bwuth and Mawy Woo.