I had my first child at 35. In 1996 that was considered a little late; I had sorority sisters who married right out of college so by the time they were 35, their kids were nearly in junior high. Now, many of my peers are grandparents, posting adorable pictures of newborns, toddlers and even older progeny on Facebook. And I must say, as much as we feel a biological clock tick during our childbearing years, I truly believe there is some sort of clock ticking once you become of age to be a grandparent.
I started noticing this some years back, maybe in my early 50s - I'd see babies offering drooly smiles from shopping cart seats and I'd have to curb my instinct to reach out and coochie-coo them right there in the produce section. I didn't want to creep out their parents. But I couldn't help gazing almost lovingly at every baby that wheeled by.
So am I ready to be a grandma. Or glamma, mimi, gigi, or whatever people call themselves these days? No way. It's not because I can't wrap my head around being old enough to have grandkids - that ship has sailed. It's because I want my 18- and 21-year-old children to be good at being single first. Then, at being married. Only at that point will I be ready. Not that I really have a say in the matter. But a girl can hope.
With any luck I'll still be young enough to be good at it.