I was at work scrolling through Facebook when I began seeing messages of congratulations posted to my Vancouver Island-based son and his partner. My first thought was, “They must have finally gotten engaged,” followed immediately with, “It sure would have been nice to know before seeing it posted online.”
But then I saw the message from a friend addressed to them that read something like, “Congratulations, you’re going to make great parents.”
I can’t repeat the words that spewed out of my mouth at that moment, but I’m pretty sure they started with a very un-grandmother-like, “Are you f***ing kidding me?” I also remember my co-workers rushing over to my desk to see what had caused my sudden outburst.
In stunned disbelief I said, “I think I’m going to be a grandma,” pointing a horrified finger at my computer screen. It didn’t take long for my fellow investigative journalists to read a few posts and confirm that, yes, I was in fact going to be a grandmother.
That’s when I reached for the phone and started speed-dialing my son, but he must have known the jig was up because my calls went straight to voicemail. (I can feel my blood pressure rising just writing this.)
He also must have known I was getting ready to jump on the next ferry because later that night he finally picked up and his explanation for not letting me know was a simple one, or so he assumed.
“We didn’t call with the news because we were waiting to tell you in person.”
My response: “Really? And how did that work out for you? I found out on Facebook.”
After many apologies on his part, I decided to forgive him and then the news began to sink in — I really was going to become a grandmother. And, despite the fact I was convinced I was far too young to become a grandma, I was over the moon with the news. I then decided on the appropriate job title. With so many grans, nannies and grandmas in the mix, I decided on “Tutu,” the Hawaiian word for grandmother. (It was also a good choice because it’s easy for babies to say.)
That was six years ago, and between my partner’s two adult children and my one, we became grandparents to three grandchildren that same year. Up until then, we had pictured ourselves as rather cosmopolitan, bon vivant baby boomers who spent every spare minute, and all the cash we could afford, travelling. But even better, now we’re the extremely proud grandparents to six wonderful grandkids, including our newest addition, three-month-old Hazel.
My biggest regret now is that they all live far enough away that sleepovers are few and far between.
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