When my daughter became pregnant a couple of years ago, I was caught off guard by two things: Not only had Charlotte, who at one time claimed to not want children, now found herself in the production of one, but all of my friends wanted to know what I would be called in my new role as grandmother.
I had called all of my grandparents just Grandma or Grandpa and never thought more of it. Yes, I remember playmates speaking about their Opa and Oma or Mimi and Papa or Nana and Pop, but I guess childhood me figured it was because they were from other countries or English was not their first language.
So I queried my daughter. “What will my name be when the baby is born?” Charlotte looked at me as if I’d lost my mind, because obviously my name is Barbara, or Babs to my friends and family. I explained that it seemed I had to have a grandma name. Everyone was demanding one, and I was confused, and a bit pleased, by the notion that I was a factor in this baby equation! I realized I had the glorious and enviable task of choosing my grandma name.
My daughter quickly set me straight: “You will be called whatever she calls you.” She indicated that I was to wait until said baby was born, walking, and able to put together short phrases. This was possibly years from now and a totally unsatisfying response to my curious already-grandmother and wannabe-grandmother friends.
I reached out to my family and friends to see what the norm was and soon found out there is no norm. Some grandparents designed their own adorable monikers and insisted on what they would be called. My sister decided she and her husband were going to be called Lolli and Skip. What? Another agonized acquaintance explained she wanted to be Nana, but the other grandmother had claimed it and she was left with Mimi as a last resort. Now we were into competitive grandmothering. I was not about to lose the cute name to Other Grandma, who already had three grandchildren.
In my grandma-name panic, I sent Other Grandma a text, who, judging by her response, surely saw me as Crazy Grandma. I could hear her voice through the text. “Duh, I am just Grandma. What else would I be?”
Expanding my informal poll, I got a range of responses I could never have imagined before I was about to be inducted into the Grandma Club:
“My grandma was Gopka because my cousin couldn’t say ‘grandma.’”
“I am known as MeeMaw, and Grandpa there is PeePaw.” (Rumor has it those nicknames—clearly belonging to Southern friends—come from the French mémère and pépère.)
I heard Gramps, Poppy, Bubbie, Popo, Amma, Bampa, TuTu, Goldie, Lala, Grammy, Juno, Gram Gram, and the list goes on. I realized a grandparent name can be traditional, comical, familial, cultural, or—as I would soon learn—simply a mistake.
It turns out my daughter was right: The baby did get the last word. I am pretty sure my granddaughter, who is now fifteen months old, just called me “Babka” when I said over FaceTime, “It’s Grandma Babs!” I could not be more thrilled. How adorable I am! But the real gift, of course, is being her grandmother, whatever my name may be.
More from Our Readers
In a recent Talk of the South newsletter, we asked readers how they got their grandma names. A sampling of their responses:
I did not designate a name that I wanted Audrey, our first grandchild, to call me. I wanted it to be her choice. During her first year, her mom would show her pictures of family members in an album. Whenever they came to a picture of me, our daughter would say, “And that is Mom’s mom.” One day Audrey pointed to my picture and said, “That’s MomMom!” And that was the day I got my grandmother name. —Marion S.
When my oldest cousin was trying to say “Grandmother,” it came out “Badmoney.” Since my grandfather said she always liked to spend money, the name stuck. She was blessed with thirty-six grandkids and fifty-plus great grandkids. —Genny H.
My mom’s mom was about six inches shorter than my dad’s, so she became Little Granny. —Peter G.
As my son got older, he decided that it was not cool to call me Mommy. So he named me Mums, and his sisters picked it up. When grandchildren came along, “Grand” got added to it, GrandMums. But then one tiny grandchild sort of stumbled over it and it became Grandmumums. And that’s what stuck, sometimes with another “-mums” for good measure. —Lynn B.
I am the third Nannie in my family. My Memphis grandmother was called Nannie by her grandchildren. My mother used it in her honor with her grandchildren. I chose it for the warmth and love it evokes for me. —Jeannette A.
KoKo. One of my best friends put my initials together and christened me at my daughter’s baby shower. —Kathy O.
I never had a grandmother, since both died before I was born. My family thought long and hard before my first grandchild was born. We decided on Grammy. Bought a little bracelet that said Grammy and began referring to me as Grammy. However, when my firstborn grandson began to talk, it came out Giggy. We all adored his made-up name and now, eight precious grandchildren all call me Giggy, or sometimes I am even shortened to Gigs, and I love it. —Shirley J.
My mother-in-law chose to be called Nena because her grandmothers were called Nene and Nana, so she merged the two. —Kristy A.
I got my grandma name when my friend found out I was about to be a grandma. My name is Angie, and she said my name had to be Grangie. Three grandsons later, it’s still my name. —Angie R.
Our eldest grandchild, now thirty-three, came up with Graymo and Graypo for me and her grandfather. She claims now to have no recollection that that’s how we got stuck with our monikers. —Martha S.
My grandma name is Woozie. When I became a grandmother, my own mother was suffering from dementia and was saying “I feel woozy” all the time. I decided to memorialize Mom and I became Woozie…all the time. My grands call me that and still think it’s hilarious. —Susan R.
My grandma name is Millie. Many years ago, I told my son-in-law he could call me that, as a shortened version of mother-in-law. I thought my given name of Barbara was a mouthful for a toddler, so she also calls me Millie. —Barbara E.
Our first grandchild was two, and I still didn’t have a name. She stubbornly would not repeat any of the options given to her. Joking around, I told her she could call me Queen Bee or Surcy. She immediately called me Surcy. And it stuck. Then several years later when we grafted a new branch into our family tree, I became the unexpected surprise grandmother to three more grandchildren—and it proved to be the perfect name. It’s like she knew. —Lisa S.
I insisted that my grandchildren call me Mamaw. I’m at least the third generation Mamaw on my maternal side. Who knows how many more came before! —Michaele A.
All my life my grandparents and my aunt had called me Babe. As my aunt approached the end of her life, I said to my daughter, “After she’s gone, there will be nobody to call me Babe anymore.” My daughter immediately responded, “That would be a super grandmother name!” So as soon as the first grandchild was born, we all started referring to me as Babe. For twenty-one years now, I’ve been Babe and always will be. —Rachel C.
My grandma name is ShuShu. It honors my late mother, Shirley, and was my father’s pet name for her. She passed away at the age of forty-two and never got to be a grandma herself, although she would have been a really fun one, as she had a great sense of humor and wasn’t afraid to be silly. It’s my way of connecting her to my children and grandchildren, whom she would have loved dearly. —Shelley P.
My mother’s grandma name was WhatWhat. In 1992 my then three-year-old niece named her that on our annual family beach trip. As my niece was learning to talk, my mother would ask her, “What? What?” if she didn’t understand her exactly. From then on, my mom was called WhatWhat by all her grandchildren. —Jane B.
