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Dad wonders if he's wrong for telling Grandma she can't have a 'stupid' nickname

Not everyone wants to be called "Grandma" and "Grandpa." But is this nickname too much?

Some grandparent nicknames are cute. Some…not so much.

Lots of grandparents feel like the names “grandma” and “grandpa” feel too old, and vote for younger, hipper nicknames. But we all know this can sometimes venture too far into overly cutesy territory.

Such was the case for one dad who found out that instead of “Grandma,” his mom wanted to be called “Glammy” by her soon-to-be grandkid.

Frustrated, he took to Reddit for advice on how to handle the situation.


“My mother is the type of woman who hates the idea of getting old,” he wrote, saying, “She tries to hide it in any way she possibly can.”

That includes coming up with alternative nicknames, which the dad at first thought was funny, but since then has “learned that she’s completely serious.” And when he’s tried to put his foot down by saying he won’t allow it, his mother gets mad at him.

“The most recent name she has come up with is Glammy because she saw a post that says ‘when you’re a grandma but you’re young and hip you get called Glammy,’” he continued, admitting that was that the only one he liked since he knew his kids would likely just end up saying “Gammy” or “Grammy,” which he found acceptable.



“But some of the names she wants are FiFi, Lolli (like lollipop), Bibi, Lola, Ari…” he lamented. “To me, these names are just stupid… I’m perfectly fine with names that are somewhat normal but for some reason I can’t get the image of my child telling someone that their ‘FiFi is picking her up’ and she just gets laughed at cause it’s a stupid name. We’ve all tried to give my mom name suggestions but are shot down every time and told that we are taking this experience away from her. What do y’all think?”

Down in the comments, people lighthearted told the man that this was a non-issue, however aggravating it is right now.

For one thing, people joked that neither him nor his mom would actually have a say in the matter. That power would belong to the kid.

“You think you get to decide that? You don’t. My son calls my mother Poppy. He calls his uncle ‘Achoo.’ Kids will do what they will,” one person wrote.

Other’s pointed out that all roads eventually lead to “Grandma”. As one person put it, “In my experience whatever name she picks or insists on would eventually become Grandma [Name] anyway. She wants to be called Fifi? Congrats, she’s now Grandma Fifi.”

Quite a few chimed in, with hard evidence, that there are nicknames far, far worse than “Glammy.”

“Do you think you have it bad? My stepmother wanted to be addressed as ‘grandpa Joe’s young wife, Susie’ L O L.”

“I called my favorite grandma Grandma Pup Pup. Pup Pup was my dog that lived with her. I was 2 and couldn't say 'puppy'. It stuck.”

“I am Guaca because my granddaughter couldn’t say Grandma☺️”

“lol our (step)granddaughter calls my husband papa duck. It came about from her first calling him Donald Duck (due to his name), and evolved into Papa after her lil sis was born. She calls me Superwoman 😂 She was 4 at the time.”

The OP would later write that “when I don’t push this issue with my mom it turns into her saying things that I have to do and I cannot do,” which alludes to a more complex power struggle, rather than simply a name pet peeve. But regardless, hopefully he (and everyone else dealing with grandparent name woes) can be put a little more at ease knowing that this doesn’t have to be a huge deal. Just another case of pick your battles.

Community

Grandmother comes out of 'retirement' to be lifeguard at local pool due to staffing shortages

She was a lifeguard at 16, and now she gets to give back to the community.

NBC News/YouTube

Robin Borlandoe is a 70-year-old grandma in Philadelphia working as a lifeguard this summer.

You're never too old to make a difference. That's what Robin Borlandoe, a 70-year-old grandmother, learned when she decided to become a local lifeguard this year. Seeing that there was a need she could fill, she got out her bathing suit and got back in the pool to help her community.


Borlandoe is a lifelong resident of Philadelphia, a city that, like others around the country, was suffering from a lifeguard shortage earlier this year. In May, the city was looking for about 150 lifeguards to staff 60 to 70 pools. According to news station Fox 29, 150 was the bare minimum amount—they were actually looking to hire 400 lifeguards. Borlandoe was one of 16 certified lifeguards over the age of 60 who stepped up to fill the need.

"We're in a bad spot and I just wanted to do something," Borlandoe told Fox 29 back in May. "It wasn't only to help the kids, it was to help me too. I just needed to do something, so I came out of my comfort zone…it's been a journey."

Borlandoe revealed that she had been a lifeguard "some years ago" at the age of 16. She admitted that things were a lot different then (if she's 70, she was a teenager in the late 1960s, so that makes sense).

"The training is much more detailed," she admitted. "They expect professionalism, and teach how to save somebody in different ways. Back then it was just 'give you a whistle, get in the water.'"

Borlandoe, who worked in healthcare before being laid off prior to the pandemic, admits that she "loves the water" and really enjoyed being a lifeguard as a teen. She told Fox 29 the story about how she rescued a 7-year-old girl who was struggling to stay afloat in the pool and how good it made her feel to help.

Helping this generation of kids is Borlandoe's current motivation for getting back on the lifeguard stand as well. Not just keeping them safe in the water, but keeping them safe outside of the pool too.

"They have no place to go," she told NBC Nightly News. "The pools are closed all around."

During her NBC News interview, she shared that she and her family witnessed a shooting right on her front lawn. "There were three young boys that were shot—killed," she said.

"When you see it, it's scary and very sad." NBC News reported that at least 100 children ages 17 and younger had been victims of gun violence in Philadelphia this year alone. Borlandoe wanted to do "something small, just to help out." If her being on duty means a pool can be open and the kids can have someplace to hang out, to her that's worth all the training and time.

"I'm very much commited to this," she said. "This is my reputation, my community."

She has demonstrated that commitment already. The Philadelphia Inquirer reported that she has already encountered a young person in need of her grandma wisdom. The outlet shared that there was a young man whose "saucy language landed him a poolside time-out." Borlandoe is clearly rising to the occasion.

“I’m going to make him my project,” she told the reporter.

We need more grandmas like Robin Borlandoe in the world.

Like many gay couples, Matthew Eledge and his husband Elliot Dougherty desperately wanted to have their own children. But being in a same-sex relationship called for them to be a little more creative in how they achieved that dream.

At 59 years old, Matthew’s mother, Cecile Eledge, was supportive and excited to be a grandma. So excited — that she offered to serve as the surrogate and carry her own grandchild.


While it began as sort of a family joke, eventually the idea grew into something inexplicably wonderful. Eledge and Dougherty’s daughter Uma Louise.

"It just seemed like a really beautiful sentiment on her part," Elliott told the BBC. "She's such a selfless woman."

However, the fertility specialist, Dr. Carolyn Maud Doherty,  listed it as a realistic possibility. So she had Cecile come in for a few tests, all of which she passed.

“She’s 61 years old and has lower blood pressure than the rest of us,” Matthew told Buzzfeed News.

“It’s important for people to note that not every 60-year-old is in good enough health to be a surrogate. There are probably only a handful of people across the country who can do this — only a handful of people who have done it,” Doherty told Buzzfeed News.

Cecile got pregnant after the first embryo transfer (Matthew’s sperm and an egg from Elliot's sister Lea), and on March 25th, she gave birth (naturally) to a 5 pound 13 ounce baby girl.

Their journey to becoming a family was not without struggle though. Elliot and Matthew live in Omaha, Nebraska, where they were no strangers to discrimination.

It’s one of many places where there is no non-discrimination legislation in place to ensure LGBTQ individuals have equal access to employment, housing, education and other resources without being targeted for their orientation/gender identity.

Eledge was even dismissed from his job upon announcing his upcoming marriage to Dougherty years ago. Thankfully his students fought for him, but it shouldn’t have come to that.

Similarly, same sex couples in Nebraska weren’t allowed to act as foster parents until 2017 after a ban was lifted.

The road to parenthood is long and arduous for millions of folks who desire to have children. But for same-sex couples, it’s often paved with more obstacles. When paired with social barriers and a lack of legislation, LGBTQ individuals have to fight two times as hard for their right to parent.

Surrogacy, as Matthew and Elliott found, is a potential solution.

For many same-sex couples like Eledge and Dougherty — and many hetero couples as well — surrogacy can make parenting a biological child a reality.  

It’s not surprising it’s become increasingly common.

In the last 17 years, more than 18,400 infants were born via gestational carriers like Cecile.

More and more, gay male couples have begun using surrogacy as a way to have their own biological children. The types of surrogates used range widely — some go through agencies, others find help through family members and friends, like Matthew and Elliott did — but the dream is the same; a chance at biological parenthood.

That said, IVF — which is what prospective parents have to do when they decide to pursue surrogacy — is expensive and therefore limiting in terms of who can really pursue it as an option.

So while LGBT equality is on the horizon, there are still many obstacles in the way, especially when it comes to becoming parents.

We can get closer by making things like health care, family planning, housing, employment and education more accessible, but most importantly, by ensuring each state offers legal protection from discrimination for all.

You cautiously follow a dark hallway into a cramped, cinder block room.

Through the dim lighting, you can see that it looks to be a hospital room of some kind. On one side, an elderly patient lies lifeless, strapped to a gurney. (It's just a doll, but still — it's super creepy.)

Then you see her. An old woman, sitting in a wheelchair wearing a floral robe. She's bludgeoning a nurse with a bloody wrench as she wails: "You can't make me eat any more peas and carrots! I won't do it!"


Mary-Lou Williams knows her way around a wrench. All photos by Kevin Williams, used with permission.

If you're me, you run screaming from the premises and never return.

But this actually happens every night at the Warehouse of Fear in Siloam Springs, Arkansas, one of the areas most popular Halloween attractions.

That haunted house grandma is no teenager in makeup, though. She's Mary Lou-Williams, a local 93-year-old who knows how to have a good time.

2016 marks her fifth year as an actress with the haunted house, which her son, Kevin, helps manage.

She's not the world's biggest Halloween fan, but when her son asked her to help out, she figured, why not? "When you get older like I am, anything you can do, you better hop at the chance," she said.

The whole, twisted gang. Mary-Lou is right-center in the red pants.

During the first year of the attraction, Mary-Lou played an unassuming women in a quiet but spooky living room scene. Her feet rested on a bear skin rug. The bear, by the way, had killed her character's husband. And you were going to be next.

This year, Mary-Lou has finally graduated from merely uttering cryptic things to haunted house goers. Now, she's the one swinging the wrench, and she's giving it everything she's got.

"They'll be some of them so scared, they don't want to go into the next room," she joked. "It's just fun."

Murderous nursing home patient might be Mary-Lou's oddest job to date, but her life story is anything but boring.

In 2015, Mary-Lou played the role of a mental patient at the Warehouse of Fear.

She worked in factories most of her life, she said, including a cannery, then a muffler shop. Later, she found work at a laundromat. In between, there were various gigs loading and unloading packages. She worked until she was 78 years old.

In other words, Mary-Lou is not a woman who shies away from a tough job.

She gets paid a small hourly rate to work the haunted house, but that's not what motivates her.

"I just like doing it, and I like all the people," she said. "They're all really nice."

Now, she spends her days with her family, taking cabs to the market, and getting pedicures. And, of course, she also frightens the bejesus out of the local youths come Halloween, too.

"I thank the Lord to be able to do it," she said. "There's a lot of young people that's worse off than I am, so I just enjoy every minute of it."

Once the rush of fear has died down, a lot of the visitors are happy to meet and talk with Mary-Lou, too.

Many of them, even ones who have never met her, call her grandma.

That's what keeps her coming back year after year.