Editor's note: Joan Quock is subbing this week for daughter (and 'Ohana columnist) Monica Quock Chan in this column about becoming a grandmother.

When I was in my 50s, I had difficulty imagining myself as a grandmother. When I reached my early 60s, the idea gradually became a bit more feasible. By the time my daughter announced she and our son-in-law were expecting their first child, to be born about a month after my 65th birthday, the timing seemed perfect. I would be a senior citizen, officially, replete with a grandchild to call my own!

Not long after the momentous occasion of the birth of our granddaughter, a girl in the grocery store looked at me and said, "Those (reading) glasses make you look like a grandmother!"

I smiled proudly and responded, "I AM a grandmother!"

I quickly mastered the habit of carrying the latest photos of little Esther in my wallet. Now I knew how it felt to beam when somebody said, "She's adorable!" or "What a beautiful baby."

The zealous new parents gladly provided a steady supply of photos via e-mail and the postal service, as well as a monthly disc of Esther's antics which my husband and I could watch on our DVD player, in addition to weekly phone calls.

My husband and I are long-distance grandparents, living in California while our grandchildren, now numbering two, live in Hawai'i. All of the above means of communication make the periods between visits a bit more tolerable. But there is nothing like holding and engaging with our only grandchildren in person.

Grandmamma and Grandpoppy, as we chose to be called, first met tiny Esther when she was 5 weeks old. From the onset, Esther was very alert and focused, studying faces intently. We got the chance to spend another week with Esther, when she was 5 months old, when we joined her and her parents on vacation. In a journal my daughter had given me, I had started to enter occasional comments about Esther, and I noted she had started smiling, which won over Grandpoppy unquestionably.

Our third visit with Esther occurred later that fall at a wedding, where she was quite a hit, being the only baby invited. The next week, we had a traditional Chinese celebration for Esther in our hometown. Our fourth encounter occurred when we traveled to Honolulu that winter. A fifth visit meant Esther and her parents got to celebrate the holidays with us and our extended family.

Out of all of Esther's firsts (sitting up, walking, etc.), the most memorable moment (what I call a triple-M) occurred when she approached me while I was sitting beside our wall of photographs, pointed to my picture and said to me, "Gwamma."

I excitedly told my daughter, who asked Esther to say so again; and she did.

This past summer our most momentous occasion was the birth of our second grandchild and first grandson, Esther's baby brother, Kenton. He and I bonded very quickly. Kenton had me at "coo, coo," the first words he said to anyone as he looked at me intently while I was carrying him.

I'm looking forward to many more MMMs with each of our grandchildren.

For now, I can say without hesitation, "Being a grandmother is truly grand!" I'm convinced that nothing compares to grandchildren except, possibly, great-grandkids — I'll get back to you on that in a few decades!

Joan Quock is a former journalist who lives in the San Francisco Bay area.