So… I am getting to that uncomfortable (ok, weird) age when my friends’ children (who I remember being BORN) are having babies of their own. Never has this impacted me more than yesterday, when I held this perfect angel-baby for the first time.
Yes – it’s a huge picture, but LOOK AT THAT BABY! This is Breckin Faith, daughter of my very good friend (sister from another mister) Tammy’s, daughter, Macayla. Breckin is perfect in every way, and her mommy and daddy are so grateful that she is here.
So, basically, as Tammy is my age, this tells me that I AM OLD ENOUGH TO BE A GRANDMA. Several of my other friends are grandmothers… well, actually they are MeMaws and Gran-Grans, and I have one ChiChi. But to be old enough to have a child who has a child absolutely hit home (hard) yesterday, and I’m not sure that I liked it.
You see, I am perpetually 34 in my head. I’m not sure why 34 is the number, but I remember being young and much thinner at 34, and at 34 I had just left a very bad relationship, so I felt free and alive (and thinner…. have I mentioned that I was thinner?)
As my friend Soxy says, le sigh…
I think I’m OK, though, because since A is technically my stepdaughter, I can’t be held by the math. If I refuse to act old enough to be a grandma, and if I refuse to dress like a grandma, maybe I’ll be safe.
But as I’ve always been “Aunt Rae” to Mac and her brother Bub… I think I’m a Great-Aunt. I mean, we know that I am a GREAT aunt, but this is the “carry the one” kind of aunt. And after rocking sweet Breckin yesterday, I am strangely OK with that.