This was my internal reaction when Boy casually told me of his future plans to move out-of-state -someday- and take my future grandchild with him.
My outward reaction was a bit more muted, but nevertheless sad/disappointed/and starting the grieving process.
It’s bad enough that Boy and Mrs. Boy live 4.5 hours away, but a plane ride away? It’ll make things so much more complicated and distance-y.
I’m not even a grandma yet. I don’t even have my grandma name yet (SEE THIS). I haven’t made the motorboat sounds on a fat little belly yet. How can I contemplate having it all and then…not?
I need you experienced Grandmas to tell me I’m making a big deal out of nothing. I need you to tell me you adjusted just fine. I need you to tell me you don’t miss the fat rolls (in my case, the fat rolls to be). I need you to talk me off the grandma ledge.
Granddads, don’t be shy. If this has happened to you and you tell me it’s gonna be OK, I’ll listen. Well, I’ll try to listen. All I hear now is….