Everyone has asked me what my new granddaugter, my apple scrapple, is going to call me.
‘You look to young to be called grandma, you have to come up with something not so old sounding’
WOMP I don’t think of myself as old, only when it benefits me but okay.
‘How about Glam-ma or Glammama” my co-worker suggested. “That’s what NeNe on Real Housewives of Atlanta calls herself because she’s too fly to be called grandma. You look like a glam-ma’
WOMP WOMP Oh, no the hell I don’t. I don’t ever, ever, evahevahevah want to imitate anything of NeNe of RHO-ATL. Don’t get me wrong NeNe is fab in her way but her attitude sucks. If she epitomizes the word glam-ma with her behavior, I’ll pass. Plus, it just sounds stupid.
“Girl please, NeNe is just keeping it real’
Insert eyeroll here. That’s not real its just buffonery for a paycheck. Next.
“How about G-ma? That’s cute.”
All I can hear in my head is my little grandbaby sounding like 50Cent yelling G-unit. No thank you.
Not bad, really buuuuut….no, maybe if my name were Gertrude or Gina. Just doesnt feel like me.
uhhhh I am too old to for that. I, mean you might as well call me Big Momma, right?
If I were French, yes.
No, No, No. I think she is running out of steam.
“Well what then?”
I have no problem with being a grandmother. It still blows my mind that I have an adult child who can actually be a father and extend my family tree by two new branches (his beautiful sigificant other and their child Autumn). To look at him and know I created him and he created her makes me feel blessed to be her grandma and a part of her life. I’m fine with grandma.
No worries my little apple scrapple your grandma is always here.