What's in a Name?

The title of this entry is both predictable and self-evident, but lately I have had my grandmother name on my mind. Actually, what my grandsons will one day call me has been on my mind ever since I first learned about my becoming a grandmother 22 months ago. I am very sensitive about names. I chose my daughters' names very carefully, with my husband's help - of course. I intensely dislike it when my name is misspelled or when acquaintances call me "Vic." I loathe that nickname, and only my beloved father and maybe a couple of siblings can get away calling me "Vic." I don't stand on ceremony, and I don't mind if my students call me "Jones" or "Jonesie" but, as I tell them at the beginning of each school year, NEVER "Big Vic." Therefore, to me, a grandmother name must be deliberate and accurate. Unfortunately, I am still on the quest for the perfect grandmother name for me.

Nana with Max

When we were considering names for our daughters, I deliberated at length for something distinctive and memorable, one that would offset the mundanity of the last name "Jones." Alexa was a perfect name by which to call our first-born: the heart of her name was "lex" meaning "word," and the symmetry of the two A's was appealing to this English teacher. Of course, she began to call herself "Ayucca" thus rendering my efforts futile. Later, when Alexa was in third grade, she came home from school and announced that she wanted to be called "Crystal." Never let a ten-year old choose her own name.

Likewise, we had many reasons for naming our second-born daughter "Natalie." She was born in the Christmas season; Natalie Woods had just died tragically the previous summer, thus that name was often in the news; and, an elderly baba at church, Natalia, had also just passed away. Yet again, the beautiful name of Natalie was reduced to "Nanny" and sometimes even "Nanny-goat." Or, we substituted "Bratalie" reflecting her temperament, at times.

In trying to practice what I preach by conducting some prewriting, I came across a website devoted entirely to grandmother names: http://grandparents.about.com/od/advicefornewgrandparents/a/grannynames.htm But, even the name of this site appalls me. One name I DO not want is "granny." I recoil from that name as much as I recoil from being called "Vic." I have considered names from other countries. I like the Italian name of "nonna" and the German "oma." But, I am only a fraction Germanic and have no Italian heritage. In fact, my German grandmother had us call her "grossmutter," trying to err on the side of propriety, I guess. However, we secretly called her "Godzilla," a variation on her given name of "Gisella" and a commentary on her temperament. Many at my church are "babas," most recently my friend, Baba Connie. But, I'm not remotely Russian. The same problem exists with the charming "yaya" from Greek. I'm intrigued with the Yiddish "Bubbe," but I'll discard without trying on for size the Spanish "Abuela."

Natalie, the mother of my two grandsons, insists that the child should choose the grandparents' names, but I prefer to be more proactive. I've been trying "Nana" on for size with Max. "Nana" seems comfortable yet a bit sophisticated, just exactly the type of grandmother I hope to be. But, whenever I try my mad teaching skills of reinforcement: "Hi, Max! It's Nana," Natalie interjects with "Wino." I am not amused. I shudder to think about my grandsons calling me "Wino." In public. Yes, I enjoy a glass of wine as much as the next person (as much as my parents do), but a wino? I don't think so. Ben, my son-in-law, suggested "V-lo" which is his nickname for me after my obsessive wedding planning efforts. I'm still sticking by "Nana." I know from experience that a "V" sound is very difficult for non-English speakers and babies; I was called "Wicki" for a month in Turkey when I was in college. Not funny.

I fully realize, though, that at some point my inventive and gifted (of course) grandchildren will alter a traditional name into something unique only to our family. After all, Alexa, the first grandchild, has the distinction of the grandparent names for my own parents: Mum and Bop. Alexa did have her own language for her first two or three years, so consider the source. But, we speculate that "Mum" is a variation of my calling her "Mom." It's particularly fitting, since she is rather a Queen Mum in demeanor. We figure that Alexa started calling my father "Bop" when she was watching him play tennis. Dad has a mean left-handed serve, and whenever he would drive one home, he'd yell out "Bop." I like the name because Dad is a be-bop sort of jazzer. So, I can only hope that Bill and I will have names as fun and fitting.

 Mum and Bop with baby Max, Father's Day 2010

For all of my grandmother friends out there, how did you come by your name? And, out of curiosity, what is your grandmother name - the one in practice, not the one you had hoped for. After all, there is a story behind every name. But for now, you can call me "Nana."

Nana Vicki with Luke

Baby Boot Camp: Week Two; Day Two

As I begun this adventure in blogging, I stated yesterday that I needed to practice what I preach. Yet, I wrote yesterday's entry without prewriting or revision. Bad Nana Vicki! I chastise my students for that sort of sloppiness. In my haste to get this venture started, I didn't even proofread!

So, today I will try to be more centered, more conscientious about my writing, and more focused on a thesis. Today's topic for consideration, a topic which has been on my mind quite a bit during this boot camp experience, a topic to which all can relate - whether interested in babies or not - is simply... sleep. Ah, sleep, that elusive necessity. Sleep, according to the sleep-deprived, maniacal Macbeth, "the innocent sleep/ Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care." The bloodiest of kings goes on to say that sleep is "balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,/Chief nourisher in life's feast." I have become obsessed of late by sleep, naps and resting.

As I create today's musings, I am lulled into a near-slumber state by the background noise of Luke's sleep sheep.  I am seriously considering purchasing one for my elderly mother who is having sleep issues. She sleeps better at night if she takes a Tylenol PM, but she often will not because she's afraid of becoming addicted. This from the lady who calls me at 5:00 every night so I can hear her clinking wine glasses with my father at "wine time." But, how did we parents of a previous generation ever exist without a sleep sheep? Yesterday, Luke and I napped while the sound of the ocean wafted over us in the background. Sleep sheep has an amazingly soporific effect. Unfortunately, Luke slept for over three hours, which transformed him into a night owl - up at 3:00 AM, when Natalie most needed her sleep.


So, what does "sleeping like a baby" really mean? Here's what one baby website has to say: "Believe it or not, you don't really want to sleep like a baby. Why? Babies' sleep, especially in the early months, is typically full of interruptions. Their sleep cycles are much shorter than an adult's, and it takes time for those cycles to get longer and for your baby to learn how to fall back to sleep on his own if he wakes up in the middle of the night." And, when I most need a nap, because of trying to keep Luke awake last night, so that he'd sleep uninterrupted for several hours, I need to go and hold my little tyrant since he's not napping right now, but wailing at the top of his lungs. Ah, sleep - how I covet you. Ah, Morpheus, how I long for you (the god, not the drug). There's always tonight.

Baby Boot Camp: Week Two

My students have repeatedly suggested that I create a blog. I feel compelled often to share my views on traveling, books, movies, and restaurants - my current passions. But most recently, a former student suggested I blog on my adventures in Babyville. For four weeks this summer, I am stepping outside of my comfort zone. I am adopting a Mary Poppinsesque persona - I am being a nanny for my two-month old grandson, Luke.

Of course, taking care of an infant for nine hours a day can in and of itself be mind numbing. However, in my quest to keep my sanity intact, reading and writing are in order. I have recently begun using a Kindle, and I have plenty of books in my queue. But, the idea of writing a little each day, or rather often, delights me. I'll practice what I preach to my students!! I'll leave a legacy for my grandson!! I'll keep from becoming an addict of some sort.

At the end of Week One of Baby Boot Camp, I called my mother and asked her how on earth she avoided becoming an alcoholic or a drug addict. I think that may have taken her aback, but she was a stay-at-home mom in the 50's, raising four children born within six years of one another. Did she read the back of Betty Crocker cake boxes? Did she have neighbors over for coffee and cake? Or did she sneak a G & T on the sly? I may never know the truth.

Observations about being a nanny at the end of Week One:

• Doing laundry can be a fine diversion.
• Pacing oneself between meals is a necessity.
• The Today Show is fairly entertaining, especially when Cee Lo is on. 
• The NCIS marathon is rather thrilling (since it was the first time I'd watched the show).
• Baby Luke sleeps best when he's being cuddled, but one can hold a Kindle and a sleeping baby simultaneously. 
• Babies have way cooler stuff now than when i raised my girls in the 80's: sleep sheep, my little lamb cradle and swing,  baby gym pads, etc. 

Why do I call it "Baby Boot Camp"? I don't have a car seat so I cannot escape the home front easily. I have stocked up on Weight Watcher appropriate foods so I can treat this time out of time as a spa complete with healthy food and exercise. I walk Luke in the morning after his mother and brother go out the door, and pushing a stroller for two + miles suffices for daily exercise - especially in this heat. Most of all, I'm learning to care for babies all over again - by trial and error. As I must right now - Luke is perfecting his ear-splitting howl.