After months of brainstorming and discussion, my husband and I have finally chosen our grandparent names.
I am going to be Ama. I made up the name by removing the M from Mama, which is what my kids called me. (Since announcing it, I’ve learned it’s a name that lots of other grandmas use, but I wasn’t consciously aware of it until I came up with it myself.) To me, the name invokes simplicity, warmth, earthiness, and practicality.
I puzzled out the name last week while I was holding the baby, so I ran it by him. “Well, hello there, lovey boy, it’s your Ama,” and then I paused to see how I felt. Did the name clang and clunk? Did I feel embarrassed? Was it weird?
Calling myself Ama felt strange, sure (because having a new name is kinda odd), but it didn’t feel put-on or phoney. It felt like me. So later, when I ran the name by my daughter, my husband, and my mother, and no one appeared appalled, I knew my months of indecision were over.
The poll my nieces and nephews made upon learning a baby was on the way.
My husband’s name was harder, mostly because he never thought about it, and then when he did think about it, it was only under duress and then he just vetoed all my suggestions.
The only name that he was even remotely receptive towards was Papi — pronounced “poppy” but not spelled that way because “I don’t want my name to be a flower.”
He was drawn to Papi because he was “Papa” to our children (though they usually call him either his actual name or Dad), because I often call him Papi just for fun, and because it’s a common name in the Spanish-speaking places we’ve lived. To both of us, the name has a cozy, warm feeling.
So there you have it: we are Ama and Papi.
Of course, whether or not the wee one accepts our choices remains to be seen.
But whatever happens, we’re here for it — and for him.
This same time, years previous: six good things, redbud, the quotidian (3.28.22), update from the north, milk bread, the quotidian (3.26.18), the quotidian (3.27.17), more springtime babies, seven-minute egg, our oaf, a list, a spat.
6 Comments
Pauline in Upstate NY
It’s good to be flexible! the wee one may well have their own ideas about it… On the way to “Grandma” I experienced being known as “Gumby,” “Nammers,” and (to the amusement of all) “Grandpa.” Yes, the little sweetie called BOTH of us “Grandpa” for a while. It was ALL good with me…
Merindy
That cracks me up. My sister is a bit younger than me (13 years almost) and my grandpa was in his last years and getting chemotherapy. My sister was about 2 years old-ish at that time, and she called him her “man grandma with no hair.” It was both hilarious and heartbreaking.
DB Stewart
As a grandpops of 5, I know those smiles! Great names!
Ruth
Oops – I’m too late then for my suggestions to be weighed in! Thought of MaJenn for you and OJ for the Opa. We use Oma and Opa as a nod to our German roots. As did my parents and grandparents. It does get a bit confusing and often needs surnames to qualify who we’re talking about.
Enjoy that new little one – it will be a thrill once he calls you by your chosen names!
Jerri
I’ve been Ama for over 14 years now. Chosen by grandson; it’s how he heard grandma. It has evolved to Ammy or Ams; but always some form of Ama. Three grandkids later I love it! I hope you love it~too!
Brian
When I was in high school I started calling my Mom “Grandma Pugga” after a SNL skit with Steve Martin. She definitely did not intend for her grandchildren to call her that. But the kiddos picked up on it and there was no going back. I like the names you chose and hopefully your own kids don’t ruin it for you.