During my visit with Bubby, he made it quite clear that he'd aced the child development stage related to object permanance: He knows an object exists even though he can't see it.

And when it comes to some of his favorite objects, Bubby dramatically expresses his sadness that his beloved this or that is existing somewhere other than right there by his side. Be it a toy, animal or loved one, Bubby lowers his head, scrunches his eyes ever so slightly and in the saddest of voices says "buh-bye."

For example, when he misses his best buddy, it's "Ro Ro buh-bye."

When the bunny outside his window decides to hippity hop behind the bush, it's "Bunny buh-bye."

After the garbage truck empties the curbside cans and heads on its way, it's "Truck buh-bye."

And when Megan and Preston left for their trip and Bubby was left with Grandma, it was "Mommy buh-bye. Daddy buh-bye."

All said in a sad tone, all sounding like the poor kid has had his heart broken.

Bubby was sleeping when I kissed him goodbye at the airport, so there wasn't true closure at our departure. One minute I was there, then I was gone. Megan told me that once home, Bubby clearly felt my absence and let everyone know, using his typical, sad "buh-bye." Even his daycare provider told Megan that the next day, Bubby moped around and when asked what was bothering him, he let her know in no uncertain terms that he missed his grandma.

So what did Bubby say to Mommy and his babysitter as he lamented my absence? He told them again and again, "Graya buh-bye."

Uh, what?

"Looks like your name is Graya," Megan told me, with what I thought was a more enthusiastic laugh than was called for. She knows I've been waiting to find out what special name Bubby has for me, the grandma moniker that belongs to only me, separating me from all the other women in his life that have the grandma label attached.

Now that he's talking more and more, it looks like Bubby's come up with that name.

And what do I get?

"Graya."

Yes, I hadn't colored my hair before visiting Bubby and my gray roots were pretty evident, but I didn't think a 19-month-old would notice.

Okay, yeah, I know it has nothing to do with my hair and everything to do with Bubby's inability to fully enunciate yet. But I really don't want to be called "Graya." It doesn't have the warm and cozy ring of something like Nonny or G-ma or Grammy. I want something sweet and loving and special.

If nothing else, I want at least an M in his version of the word "Grandma." I'll settle for being called just plain ol' "Grandma" or "Gramma" over "Graya" any day. Either would be sweet and loving and special coming from my Bubby.

Bubby's vocabulary skills still have much room for improvement, so I'm pretty sure he'll get down the "M" in "Grandma." And if that's who I'll be to him for ever and ever going forward, that's okay with me. Because more important than what he calls me, Bubby makes it clear already, at this young age, that he loves me. And when I'm not there, he misses me.

At least as much as he misses the garbage truck after it empties the neighborhood trash cans and toodles on down the road.

What more could a grandma ask for?

Today's question from the "Would You Rather..." board game:

Would you rather age only from the neck up -- OR -- age only from the neck down?

Assuming that "from the neck up" doesn't involve the actual brain and mental functions, I'll say I'd rather age only from the neck up. I'm starting to get a tad arthritic in my knees and am finding I'd much rather have my body work correctly than have a wrinkle-free face and neck.

As many of you know, Brianna's been househunting. She had a relatively small amount of money awarded to her (finally) after having been rear-ended by a landscaping truck several years ago and needed to invest it wisely so she'd have funds available in the event she needed another back surgery any time in the future.

The depressed housing market and the $8,000 tax credit incentive were working in her favor. But, like I said, her budget was pretty small, so very few homes were available in her price range, in a decent part of town and in fairly good shape.

After several months of researching homes online, Brianna narrowed it down to a few to look at. Together, with her realtor, she and I headed out one day last week to visit the top four choices on her list.

Three were absolutely horrid. Of those three, two were unbelievably structurally unsound -- one had a crack so large in the bedroom wall that you could see into the bathroom and the other provided a crazy funhouse effect, thanks to the sloping floors. The third horrid home was so filthy it made us want to gag but the unusable floor plan was the main reason for deletion from her list to consider further.

The fourth home we saw that day was the one. It was in a great location near her church, not far from work, in the same neighborhood as a friend. It was a HUD home and needed some work, but she and her realtor put in a bid. And she found out in less than 24 hours that her bid was accepted! She was getting a home for $30,000 less than its appraised value (an August 2009 appraisal). The inspection proved there were no major problems. Brianna will be a homeowner ... after all the HUD hoops are jumped through, of course. But being a cash deal with a completed inspection and appraisal, it's basically a done deal.

So why the "Bizarre" in the title of this post? Well, it will be a wonderful home for Brianna and Hunter, and I know that for a fact because ... and here's the "bizarre" part ... IT'S THE TOWNHOME JIM AND I BOUGHT FOR OUR LITTLE FAMILY IN 1984! Not just a townhome in the same neighborhood or the same complex where we bought our first home, but the exact same home with the exact same address!

This wouldn't be incredibly surprising if we lived in a small town where homes are recycled with families all the time, but the population of our city is creeping up on the half-million mark. So for Brianna to have this exact home basically fall in her lap, with nothing else even remotely close to being what she wants, in her budget range and the location she wants to live, is bizarre. To say the least. I think you'll agree.

It's the house where our two little girls ...

... became three.

Where stockings were hung ...

... and pumpkins were carved.

Where happy, vibrant Granny came to visit.

And Grandma, too. (When her grandchildren numbered five; it's now closer to 25!)

It was the first stop for Grandma and Grandpa Jerry just after their wedding ceremony.

And a great place for hanging out at the pool.

The fireplace was a prime spot for posing ...

... and roasting marshmallows, too.

It's where our little family was made complete. It was our home, in every sense of the word, for three happy -- yet humble -- years.

Now it's Brianna's. And there's something weirdly satisfying in that.

Brianna will make it uniquely her own, the memories of three goofy little girls getting their bearings there will fade. It's where she will get her bearings as an adult ... on her own ... with an empty canvas awaiting all her HGTV-gleaned ideas ... and no mortgage -- hallelujah!!

So she's got her car ... she's got her home.

Brianna's ready to roll!

I've always thought I would do absolutely anything for my daughters. But a video I ran across this weekend has me questioning the lengths to which my altruism would go.

The following video is an update on an Ohio woman who, at 56 years old, served as the surrogate mother for her daughter, carrying and giving birth to her daughter's triplets -- her grandchildren. Her daughter, a mother of two teens, had medical issues that prevented her from carry another child. And she and her second husband wanted a baby together oh-so-badly.

So Mom/Grandma stepped in. "It's just another thing I'm doing for my daughter," she said.

I really don't think I'm that big of a person. I truly love my daughters and would want to help in any way possible if they were unable to have children. I think. But maybe not. I honestly don't know -- and hope the girls never ask, if all truth be told.

Luckily, getting pregnant has proved to be a pretty easy feat for the females in my family and Jim's, and it seems the ability has been passed down to our girls ... so far. Of course, Bubby is the only grandchild. And Megan and Preston have not yet given it a shot at a second kiddo. Brianna and Andie are not at a point in their lives where kids are even a consideration.

But what if they do have problems having babies? Would I really go so far in helping out my girls that I'd carry their children for them?? My pregnancies and deliveries were all pretty easy ... and natural. And I'm still relatively young -- quite a bit younger than that Ohio woman. But I honestly don't know if if I'd be willing to go through it all again as a gift to one of my daughters, to ensure that I'll have more grandchildren.

Apparently there was no question nor hesitation about it for the Ohio mother/grandmother. She even says she'd do it again if any of her other kids asked her to.

This isn't new news and many of you may already know the story. But I thought the following interview with Meredith Viera was interesting, and the fact that the triplets are coming up on their first birthday Oct. 11 gives Grandma and Mom a little more perspective on what they did. If you didn't catch it on last week's Today Show, check it out. Then let me know if you think YOU would do such a thing for your daughter -- or if you younger readers would ask your mother to carry your kids for you if you couldn't.

Grandma A, Grandma B (her designation, not mine!) and Great GrandmaMegan told me yesterday that Bubby hurt her feelings for the first time. After work she went home, where Preston's grandma was covering her once-a-week shift on babysitting duty. When Megan opened the door, Bubby saw her, made his "ugly face" and adamantly shook his head "no!"

"He wanted nothing to do with me and started reaching for Grandma," Megan sadly related.

And when "Grandma" got ready to leave, Bubby clung to her and cried at the prospect of her walking out the door.

I feel for Megan. It stinks when your baby seemingly rejects you in favor of someone else. I understand how it feels when your kiddo dents your heart. (Believe me ... this story was coming out of the mouth of the daughter who broke my heart into a million little pieces each and every day of her teen years. Thank heaven my heart mended itself each night and could start each day anew.)

So, Megan, I'm sorry Bubby hurt your feelings. But I'm having a hard time getting past the multiple nonchalant mentions of "Grandma" throughout the story.

Megan and I have talked before about how much I hate that Preston's grandma gets to be THE "Grandma" to Bubby. When Megan says the word grandma to Bubby, guess whose face he sees? I want it to be MY face, but that's not what he's learned.

Yes, I could be called something else. Megan's suggestion is Grammy. Well, I don't want to be Grammy. That's for old people ... and is more fitting for the great grandma than grandma. I want to be Grandma. I want to be THE Grandma.

I don't resent Preston's grandma for the place she's taken in Bubby's life. Honest. She's a wonderful woman and the best grandma Bubby could have taking care of him and loving him on a regular basis -- except for me. I really would be the very best grandma ever ... if only I didn't live 819 miles away from him.

So I'll continue being referred to as Grandma, despite knowing I'm not the grandma Bubby immediately thinks of when he hears the word.

But I'm definitely counting on Bubby coming up with some other -- special and unique! -- name for me once he starts talking a little more.