When my husband and I became parents, he became Abba and I became Mommy. This was true for all our friends except for the two couples who planned on moving to Israel and chose “Ima.” The rest of us agreed that “Ima” sounded like a screechy shriek.

Oh well. “Mommy” can too.

When my friends and I became grandparents, there were many more names from which to choose. “Bubbie,” “Bobba” and “Bobbie” were early favorites- mostly chosen by those who had (already dead) European grandmothers whom they had called by those names. Grandma sounded like an old lady but if you had had a beloved Grandma, (by then probably also dead), it had a good association.

My Grandma was still alive when I became a grandmother. So that name was hers. My Nana died when she was only a little older than I was at the time I achieved “grandmotherhood” so, although I loved her dearly, I had unhappy baggage with that name.

My own mother was Mama and although I really liked that, I thought she should just keep it. I was in no way a “Bubbie” or any derivative thereof. I didn’t knit, wear orthopedic shoes, have gray hair in a bun, bake or talk with an accent other than that of a native Noo Yawka.

My grandfather’s second wife who we all disliked wanted to be called Granny. She looked like the evil stepmother in Disney’s Cinderella.

“Grammy” had a nice Wasp-y ring to it but the movie “Annie Hall” kind of put a damper on that appellation for nice Jewish grandmothers.

What to do? What to be called? As I rocked my twin grandsons, the first grandchildren, I knew this was a momentous decision. My husband, who did not know his grandfathers, decided immediately on Zaidie. Zaidies usually go with Bubbies. Not us.

“Savta” has a nice soft sound. There are lots of young Savtas. The word had no connotations or baggage for me. I tried it. I’d say to the babies, Savta’s here, Savta loves you, Savta thinks you’re terrific! They said Savta by the age of 14 months. By then, I felt like a Savta.

Last week, the twins, now almost 7 were talking about our “savta sandwich.” Jack said that they are the bread and I am the deli! They were teasing me that Savta sounds like “soft-ta.” They laughed and said they liked that. When we cuddle, even though I’m actually a little bony, they like snuggling up to their “Soft-ta.”

I like it too. I’m sure I’m smiling as, cuddled together, we all drift off to sleep.

• Posted in Parenting
• Tags: Grandparents, Naming

When my husband and I were expecting our first child, we anticipated that our lives would change, that we would shift all of our attention from nurturing ourselves (as two people who got married in our mid-30s, we had several decades to perfect that skill) to nurturing this fragile life.  We spent hours selecting a name for our child (something unique as in ‘special’, but not too unique as in ‘weird’) but once we brought the little bundle home from the hospital, something happened that we didn’t anticipate, our names became irrelevant.

We were “Ima” and “Abba” (that’s “Mom” and “Dad” in Hebrew), the newest members of a club with millions of others who carried the exact same name.

I found myself buying into this new reality with gusto.  I started writing thank you notes for gifts that Tamir received, referring to myself in the third person, “his mother is going to love dressing him in the adorable onesie!”  The phenomenon didn’t stop there.  In a music class that my little Beethoven-to-be and I are in, the “Hello Everybody” song begins with the little tikes and their names pronounced precisely – Eva (hard “e”), James, Matan (long second “a”), then the caregivers (named one by one.)  Then, last but not least, “Hello to the (anonymous) mommies.”  Hold on, everybody – aren’t we at least caregivers too?   When did our names dissolve into anonymity?

I should have seen this transition coming.  After all, we had 8 days after our son was born to understand it.  There’s this ‘liminal space,’ an in-between time in the Jewish tradition, between the birth of a boy and his official naming, through the ancient ritual of brit milah (circumcision).  While we knew what we wanted to call him, no one else did.  He was in a waiting period before getting his unique name and that gave us time to adjust to losing ours.

While our new names, “Ima” and “Abba” are not unique to us, they are relational.  They only makes sense when our son says them.  Perhaps that’s the point.

• Posted in Parenting
• Tags: featured, Naming