Grandma Does!

In what seems like a lifetime ago, my teenage daughter told me she was having a baby.

I didn’t react well. I cried, screamed and perhaps even flailed about as my emotions leaned toward the ugly. I was hurt, worried and, I’m ashamed to say, a bit embarrassed.

Today’s “Teen Mom” phenomenon just doesn’t feel right to me. Not all that long ago, I went through high school never meeting a teen parent. There were rumors and a girl or two did mysteriously vanish into a foreign exchange program, but there weren’t girls carrying their babies through the malls.

Children raising children was just not something readily accepted just a few years back when MTV played music videos instead of shows that sensationalize teen pregnancy, while turning a handful of girls into tabloid superstars.  

Trying to remain open minded and trendy, I thought perhaps we could be on that show. We had the pregnant teen part, but since I don’t spend my afternoons intoxicated, have a bad perm or sleep on a mattress haphazardly strewn on the living room floor, getting chosen didn’t seem likely. 

Instead, I turned my thoughts to my grandma name. It wasn’t going to be “Grandma," of that, I was sure. The rocking I do involves way more cowbell than chair.  

But now I’ve realized that’s exactly where I was wrong. My feelings for gray hair have not changed, but why was I allowing stereotypes to foolishly influence what I am or what I think I should call myself? Are there really any laws that state that grandmas can’t jump like fools to their favorite bar bands?

Even if there are, what could the sentence be? A lifetime of sensible shoes? Oh, no!  I’m still me. Why should I worry if Grandma conjures up images of Ben Gay and support hose?

Maybe it’s up to me to change the stereotype.  Guess what, Morton Grove? There’s a new grandma in town and sometimes she wears high heeled boots.

Yes, two days ago, I became the grandmother of a baby boy.  My daughter allowed me the honor of being present at his birth and I was shocked at how instantly I found myself swooning in absolute love.

When the doctor asked who wanted to cut the cord, the only answer that felt as perfect as the baby in front of me was “Grandma does.”

It felt right; just like the little guy does in my arms. A baby is a blessing. The circumstances in which he arrived do not matter; I’m just so thankful now that he did.

Were you ever really wrong about something?  Does the word Grandma conjure the same images to you? Are support hose available in fishnet? Just curious.