Primo and mom Simone
When my diploma arrived in the mail, signifying I was a college graduate, I didn’t feel a whit different than I had before the mailman pushed the envelope through the slot.
I married Douglas on a Sunday afternoon in September. I remember riding on the bus the next morning, looking up at my finger, newly ringed with a wide gold band, and thinking: ‘I don’t feel a bit different than I did yesterday morning.’
I remember my first big promotion to an editor. My boss and his boss called me into the big conference room to tell me the news. When I walked out, I didn’t feel a bit different than I felt walking in.
I remember when I finally pushed Colby out and they laid him on my stomach, the umbilical cord still attached. I felt a wave of emotion, but once they took him away, I didn’t feel much different than I felt an hour before.
I looked at my newborn grandson this morning, barely 90 minutes old, and although I felt like I was in The Twilight Zone, I don’t really feel different than I did as a plain ‘Maz’ (that’s what my daughter calls me.)
Labels and titles alone are meaningless: College graduate, wife, boss, mother, grandmother. What defines us is what we make of the labels pinned on us. We don’t feel the full impact of our “status” until we’re actively in the role and taking responsibility for our actions. The New Jersey man, recent winner of the $320 million lottery, now can call himself a multi-millionaire, but what counts are what he does with his newfound fortune and how it affects his life.
I was not always the stellar boss, wife, or mother that other women can probably claim to be. Even though I can’t go back and ask for re-dos, I have a chance to take my new label, pin it on proudly and be the best darn ‘grandmaz’ in town!