My Grand Kids Call Me By My First Name — And I Don’t Care
What they call me isn’t important.

Occasionally I see letters to columnists from grandparents, complaining about what their grandchildren call them. And I think, what difference does it make what they call you?
When our first grandson was born, all four of his biological grandparents had been divorced and remarried, so he had four sets of grandparents. As he grew and began to talk, he called seven of those doting folks by a variety of traditional grandparent names.
He called me Jackie.
We tried to get him to say Grandma Jackie, but he wouldn’t. And I didn’t see any reason to make a big deal of it.
That grandson now has a brother and two sisters — all of whom call me Jackie. They have a cousin who sometimes calls me Grandma and sometimes calls me Jackie. I think he gets confused by what his mother tells him and by what he hears his cousins saying.
Occasionally someone we know will make a comment about the kids calling me by my first name, and my response is:
I don’t care what they call me.
What I care about is the relationship I have with them. I care about spending time with them, sharing experiences with them, and being part of their lives as they grow into amazing people. I care about being someone they know will always love them, always be there for them, and never judge them.
What they call me isn’t important.
And if you’re a grandparent or a soon-to-be-grandparent, who is obsessing over what the grandchildren are going to call you, it’s time to take a serious look at what being a grandparent means.
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