Don't Call Me Grandma!

In May, I will be 45 years old. And in September, I will become a (gulp) grandmother. I seem entirely too young for this, no?

And it's not even my almost 20 year-old army medic that is making me a grandmother.

Oh no...it's my 17 year-old high school junior.

Yep.

I am a big believer in information. She and her boyfriend had been together quite a long time, in teenage time. At some point, you know they're having sex, and all you can do is make sure that they have as much information as possible. You know, like beating your daughter over the head with a box of condoms.

Even so, teenagers don't always think, and don't always make the best decisions.

We talked extensively about her options.

For her, abortion was out of the question. I respect that choice.

I talked to her at length about adoption.
She said she didn't think she could do it.

So, it appears that in early September, we will be having a baby.
She is 14 weeks along today.

My baby is having a baby.

Stunned, is what I am.

So, here's my main, pressing problem. I don't want to be called grandma.
It sounds old.
I have a nine year-old, for Pete's sake.
Mimi is taken...that's what my kids call my mom.
Mimi was a variation of Grammy, so that's out too.
Not liking Nana.
My daughter suggested "Gram Cracker". She's such a comedian.

So what do you have your daughter's child call you when you are adamently opposed to Grandma?