C. Stroup – Don’t Call Me Grandma!

Now that my son is finally grown
He’s taken a wife to call his own.
Married almost six years now
She got pregnant, some way, some how?

As a brand new grandma I soon would be
I had to choose a name for me.
I didn’t want to be run of the mill
‘Cause Grandma sounds so over the hill.

So after trying on some names
I came across one not the same.
As many I had heard before
This was different, I was sure.

CiCi popped into my head
Late one night as I lay in bed.
It sounded cool and I could hear
That baby dear, calling out so clear.

Amy carried child for those nine months.
It would be a boy, I had a hunch.
But much to my surprise and glee
The baby turned out to be a she!

Her name is Jaci (pronounced Jaycee)
And is as delightful as she can be.
Now she’s almost one year old.
Her personality has begun to unfold.

I see so much of my son in her
I don’t just laugh, I outright roar!
Seems the curse has come to pass…
She’ll drive him crazy.  She’ll be full of sass.

Still too young to say CiCi
I make her practice when she’s with me.

Mama and Dada are first in line
But I’m convinced there’ll come a time
When on my lap she will climb
And say CiCi…I’ll bide my time.

She came one day to have a swim
And peered from under her hat’s brim.
While tickled to be in the water
She had no clue she was my granddaughter.

For her I’d bought a new swim suit
It fit so well, she was a hoot.
But still I wait for those special words,
When, “I love you CiCi” will be heard.

She’ll look at me with those big blue eyes
And melt my heart with little girl sighs.
And so much pride I’ll feel inside
That she’ll know my love I can not hide.

And for all the Grandmas near and far
In your grand babes’ minds you are a star.
It’s just that I felt I had to be
Not a grandma, but instead CiCi!


Originally published in the September 2013 issue of The Cross Timbers Gazette.

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