X-ta asked me in yesterday's comment what I should be called now.
Well, I have a story.
After the adoption was final, when the children were invited by the judge to bang the gavel, and the clapping of the 60+ onlookers died down, Daniel came up to me and said, "Kelly!"
I said, "Hey, I'm your forever grandma now. You can't call me Kelly anymore. So how about grandma?"
He made a face. He's good at those. "Nah!"
"I heard the French word for grandma is ma mere how about that one?"
He shook his head rapidly. I tried again, "Nana?"
A head tilt and frown. "So what would you like to call me?" I finally asked.
A huge grin replaced the frown. "Poo Poo"
"You want to call me Poo Poo?"
His little sister joined him. They both nodded enthusiastically.
So, X-ta. You can call me Poo Poo!
Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.