Only this year I can't easily make it up with a visit (you know, the whole plague thing).

But as I wrote the cards (which I address with the names used by all members of the family, including Nanna and Granny on behalf of my kids), it reminded me to do some more thinking about an important topic: what do I want my yet-to-be-born grandchildren to call me?

My eldest is 18 and I would say I have about a decade before he or my other children will be thinking of babies (as far as I know).

Yet, I like to be prepared.

Also, what an opportunity! It's not something to rush or go into without thought.

Because how many other times in your life do you get to choose what someone will call you?

Your parents give you your own name, then your kids call you - with very few exceptions - Mum or Dad.

But it has somehow come to pass (in Australian culture, at least) that there are options for grandparent names. Which means choice. Which means deep thought. Decades of deep thought.

I have already had a bit of a thing about names, admittedly.

When it came to naming my children, I could be entertained for hours, reading baby name books (pre-internet) and throwing ideas around.

My husband didn't seem to find it as amusing. His main role was to enact the power of veto - as a previous teacher, he had the right to reject any name on the basis that he'd taught someone with it, and they were a little brat. He seemed to have taught a lot of little brats.

I had a few rules of my own, too. No one could share an initial (on the basis that we might receive a letter addressed to, say, M Thomas, and not know who it was for. Letters! Little did I know.)

The name couldn't be so far outside our cultural background that it verged on cultural appropriation, nor so popular that they would be known by their name plus last initial for the rest of their lives. It couldn't be so new that it sounded made up, nor too hard to spell. It had to have some history to it.

Such fun. The only problem was, using a new name wasn't really a good enough reason to have more children, so now I only get to name each lot of new chickens. (The current ones are called after famous redheads - Lucille, Nicole and Christina.)

Maybe you think I made this whole naming thing more complicated than it should be, but just wait until I get to my issues with grandparent names.

The thing is, since there is some variety available - for instance, Grandma, Nanna or Granny - the appellation becomes more personal. Now I feel like those names belong to my grandmothers, or my mother and mother-in-law. Meaning, I have to come up with something of my own.

I also don't want to give the impression that I'm not willing to embrace grandmotherhood (when it comes). People who say, "Gosh, I'm too young to be a grandma! Just call me something fun, like Gigi!" are delusional, because the truth is - they're not too young or it wouldn't have happened.

I'm tempted, as always, to come up with something punny, just for my own amusement. I've tossed around the idea of 'Grammy', just so that when I give the grandkids presents, I can call them Grammy Awards. But maybe that will just confuse them.

Another fairly major obstacle is that I just don't like the 'gr' sound in general, something I mentioned to my husband Graham the other day (oops).

That pretty much cuts the field in half, because everyone knows your grandmother name has to bear some resemblance to either Grandma or Nanna. Them's the rules.

Nanny sounds like a babysitter, and Nan is too plain. Nonna is too Italian, which is fine if you actually are Italian. But I am not (see cultural appropriation, above).

Over-thinking it? I've barely started.

I don't want to include my first name (for example, Nanna Michelle) because your grandkids calling you by your own name sounds weird.

I generally don't admire acronym-style names or initials, so G-ma and the like are out.

I don't like grandmother names that could be confused with words for mother, such as Ma or Mama. The letter M is off limits, actually. It's for mums.

Which means I've worked myself into a familiar corner and come up with nothing.

I think there's really only one solution: maybe it's just better if my kids just don't have any children at all.