All My Friends Are Getting Old in Feeling like Sybil

Yeh… Haven’t posted in awhile.
School started. Three weeks in and I’m ready for Spring Break!
New principals, new teachers, new literacy program… it’s going well, but time-wise it is kicking my butt.

But enough with the excuses.

So what shall the queen talk about today?
Oh, I know.... BABIES!
Yes, babies! No, no… not my own. They are not babies anymore. (They aren’t as grown as they think they are either, but they aren’t babies.)

No.. I’m talking about GRANDbabies.
(and no again.. not my own, I don’t have any… yet. And THAT is the point of today’s talk.)

It seems that in the past 2 weeks, nearly a dozen of my friends or family members have become grandparents. GRANDparents.
How is that even possible?
How are MY friends and siblings even OLD ENOUGH to be grandparents? It’s just inconceivable to me. Well, at least until I stop and count up how old I am we are.
ummm.... ok, yeh… I guess it IS possible.
But seriously?… GRANDbabies?
Aren’t OLD people suppose to be grandmas?
I’m not even 50 yet.
That’s not old!

Sure.. I didn’t have my first child until I was 26, and my last one when I was 32…so some of my friends have a jump on me there. AND, my little sister married a much older man who had teen age kids when they met, so SHE has a valid reason for being a grandmother of many… but I just can’t believe this is the stage of my life I’m entering in to.

Yeh yeh.. I know I’m getting older.
My kids are all of driving age and older now.
I have to wear glasses to read now.
I creak and snap when I move around.
I moan and groan when rising from the bed every morning.
And yes…those (do I even utter the word?).. Pre-menopause signs are rearing their ugly heads lately..

but I’m still young!
At least in my head! Where it counts.
A few years ago I even toyed with the idea of having another child of my own.... briefly (and shot it down).

But being a grandmother?
Oh yeh… they say it’s the most wonderful thing in the world. Getting to love on and play with precious little ones… and then send them home!
Getting to spoil them rotten much to their parents’ chagrin.
Getting to always be the “good guy” to these children.

So I guess there’s that… I could see where that WOULD be cool.
Maybe being a grandparent won’t be so bad after all.
As long as I have a cool name. (no “Granny” or “Memaw” for me thanks.)

And as long as my kids are in a good place to be parents… which means college graduated, married to the loves of their lives, secure in their careers…which won’t happen for quite a few more years yet.
Yeh.. then I guess it will be ok.

That’s not too much to ask is it?