The GRANDMA title.

"Hey, GRANDMA!" My neighbor said this to me as I was herding my two grandsons toward my car. I smiled and nodded, as I attempted to keep the three-year-old from wandering out to the alley. The neighbor was encouraged, going on to say, "What's the matter? You don't like being called Grandma?" He seemed genuinely tickled by the thought.

And so it goes, folks calling out "Grandma" or "Grandpa", as if it is a slur, indicating that one is OLD! I didn't get older when I became a grandmother, I didn't feel older, either. But somehow, general perceptions of me changed.

Well, here's a great big news flash! Grandparents are COOL! We listen to cool music! My youngest son listens to Jerry Lee Lewis and is looking for Sam Cooke for his iPod. My phone/music player has the Foo Fighters and Cage the Elephant.
And we TEXT! Now, I am not the text-monster that, say, my teenage step-daughter is, but I can hold my own.

Obviously, we blog!

We e-mail, we are tech-savvy and fashionable.

OK, well, this Grandma is no fashionista, my uniform is capri pants, concert T-shirts and flip-flops. But take a look at my daughter's mother-in-law, who also favors capris and flipflops, but ALWAYS looks perfectly put-together.

The days of Grandma in a rocking chair, with her silver hair pulled into a bun, knitting sweaters and endless booties while baking cookies are done.

Don't get me wrong, I can bake a wicked batch of cookies. Or homemade bread. But I am just as likely to whip up a batch of hand-rolled sushi or Ahi Poke.

My daughter and her dad were shopping once, when she was pregnant with her first child. They found a shirt for a baby that said "Grandmas house smells like cookies" or something to that effect.
My daughter scoffed, saying her kid needs a shirt that says Grandma's house smells like garlic!

So, go ahead, call me Grandma! Just make sure you know who you are talking to!