County sisters

On this Mother’s Day I don’t expect flowers, cards, gifts or visits. Nope. Today, Mother’s Day, I am thinking about all of the wonderful women who have helped me become a better mom. Many of those women lived, or are living, here in the County. For those of you who know me, and very few of you really do, you know my route to motherhood has been a very interesting journey. And as journeys go, the motherhood one continues to be interesting.

When we arrived in the County, in 1972, I left my hometown, my job, my mother-inlaw, my mother, my older sisters and my friends. The women were the ones I relied on when I was at a loss, as a parent. My mom and my mother-in-law were amazing women, infinitely patient and eager to jump in when missteps were imminent. As well, my sisters and my friends weren’t all moms, at that time, but they gave me the boost I needed when I was at my wit’s end about teething, feeding, four-hour schedules, sleepless nights, diaper rash and a host of other less than Hallmark Moments in motherhood.

The County seemed a long way from Toronto in the ‘70s. Even making a telephone call was expensive and I saved that for very special occasions—like total meltdowns. Our first home in the County was in a farmhouse about five miles from town. No public transit. No sidewalks with shop windows to peruse, and we had rural mail delivery. Rural mail was perplexing. If I couldn’t walk to the post office to buy a stamp, how the hell was I supposed to mail a letter to my support team.

It was pretty lonely, on the road to Demorestville, until the first of my County moms called and said she was going to drop by to say hello. Of course, I didn’t get her call right away because I wasn’t sure if our ring was two long and a short or two shorts and a long. Anne V. was my first MAFH— Mom away from home. She listened to my rant about being in the middle of nowhere. She told me when to turn the mail box toward the road and why I’d put the little flag up. She understood all about missing my mom, my friends and my sisters. Anne was from England and, like a lot of at-home moms, she was pretty isolated. But, she had children of her own, and had a few ideas about child-rearing. On her very first visit, she brought me a cat because I was at a loss with regard to the “mouse in the house” situation. Sometimes all of my mothering problems paled next to the farmhouse rodent issue. Ah, country living.

Anne not only brought us a great mouser (and a couple of cans of cat food), she was connected. She had been a new arrival in the County and knew what I needed. Yup, I needed to get out and I needed The Women’s Book Club. The Women’s Book Club got me out of the house. It was a group that got together, once each month, to talk about life, drink endless cups of tea, eat treats, discuss how to deal with hard water, what to do when you ran out of water, how to foil the mice in the pantry, diaper rashes, chicken pox, careers left behind and, of course, books. I met a lot of great mothers and mothering-types at The Women’s Book Club.

I was a clueless, hippy of a mom, at the time. Maybe that hasn’t changed. I might have been a bit outspoken and lacking in internal dialogue. But I had moms.

I learned about party-lines, rural mail, conserving well-water, carpooling and reading a recipe. I read some fabulous books and learned a lot about writing styles. Over the years, I’ve kept in touch with many of these women, laughed and cried with them. Shared moments and celebrated milestones.

Thanks ladies. You know who you are. I wouldn’t have survived the County, as a young mom, without you.

theresa@wellingtontimes.ca