By Aunty Christine – your favorite not-yet-grandma with a whole lot of dreams and not a single diaper to change just yet
Let me tell you a little secret—
Sometimes, late at night, after the dogs are snoring and Oscar’s finally put his phone down for five whole minutes, I catch myself daydreaming. Not about a villa in Tuscany (although, yes, also that), or even about a future bed and breakfast in El Salvador. Nope. I’m dreaming about… becoming a grandmother.
I know. Wild, right?
I mean, let’s not get it twisted—there are zero grandbabies on the horizon. No one’s even hinted. No stork’s circling, no baby showers marked on the calendar, and absolutely no subtle announcements over brunch (believe me, I’ve listened for ‘em). But still—
The dream is there.
Maybe it’s the stage of life I’m in. Maybe it’s because I’ve been doing a whole lot of starting over lately, and the thought of a squishy little baby in a onesie calling me “Grammy,” “Mimi,” or (let’s be honest) “Aunty G” just makes my heart do a little somersault.
I imagine chubby cheeks I can smooch unapologetically. Bedtime stories I’d read in my best dramatic voice. Tiny humans in my garden pointing at butterflies, while I pretend not to cry over how freakin’ adorable they are. I can see it all. It’s like a highlight reel in my head. And don’t even get me started on dressing the little cuties—my grandkid is absolutely going to have the most stylish overalls on the block.
But here’s the thing—I’m not rushing it. I’ve lived enough life to know you can’t make anything bloom before its season. My kids are finding their own way, just like I had to. They’ve got their journeys, and wherever those roads lead, I’ll be right here—rooting for them whether they give me a grandbaby or a cactus (which I’ll also love and probably overwater).
This dream of grandmotherhood? It’s less about diapers and more about legacy. About healing the hard parts of my past and imagining a future where laughter fills my home in a brand new way. It’s about hope. It’s about softness. And it’s about knowing that even though that chapter hasn’t started yet, the bookmark is there, patiently holding space for something beautiful.
So no, I’m not in a rush. But I do have a rocking chair picked out. Just sayin’.
And when that time comes? Oh baby—you know I’ll be the coolest, quirkiest, story-spinning, cookie-baking, karaoke-singing grandma this side of Baltimore.
Until then, I’ll just keep dreaming.
Love,
Aunty Christine 🫶🏻💜🤟🏻
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