Women raising women. Meet the ‘four sisters’ who shaped me.
The four sisters: Therese, Rose, Emily and Dorianne
I was raised by women. And I am now raising one. This is possibly why I am so passionate about the subject.
My mother is one of eight siblings – four of who are women. My mum and three aunts were always very present in my life. Because, apart from being sisters, they are best friends – and practically neighbours.
My childhood memories are filled with recollections of the four of them doing everything together.
I remember us spending long days at the beach together and cleaning my nanna’s garden together. I remember them coming over to sew outfits for me and my sister. They’d all huddle around my parents’ orange kitchen’s laminate table and map out Burda patterns, cut them and sew them in between coffee breaks. I remember the sound of the scissors snipping through fabric.
I still love that sound.
They’d cook together for big, family, special occasions – they still do. I have memories of them laughing hysterically together during roof-top barbecues. And of them crying together: tears of joy and sadness.
I do that too now.
And when their mother – my nanna – became widowed and too old to live alone they came together, with the support of their brothers and husbands, to look after her and be with her till the very end.
So to mark the one-year anniversary of Woman Unclouded I wanted to pay tribute to these amazing women – one of whom is my mum: Rose Marie.
A chat over tea
During the “interview” with them - which was a chat around Aunty Dorianne’s kitchen table that was, of course, filled with homemade goodies – my mum was the one to speak the least.
“She knows everything about me,” she told her sisters as they nudged her to say more.
I do know a lot about my mum. But I don’t know what used to go on in her heart and mind when she was raising me and my sister – something I think about a lot now as I raise my daughter and face thoughts and emotions I never imagined would cross my mind and heart.
As I write this piece – on a weekday after putting my daughter to bed - my mum sends a meme on Facebook Messenger to me and my sister that says: “Dear daughter, watching you grow reminds me in how blessed I am to be your mother”.
She does that. She cares. Her love is big.
“When you have a sister, you are never alone.”
She remembers (every birthday and anniversary in the extended family with photographic memory). And she says it out loud: something I am learning how to do as I grow older.
I think back to what happened a few hours earlier and feel ‘guilty’. I had just put my daughter to bed and sat down to write this. She woke up and wanted me next to her. I got so frustrated. Because I always struggle to find time for my stuff.
As I took a page from my mother’s book, I reminded myself to be more patient and enjoy these days when my daughter wants me near her. It may not last much longer.
These feelings: The guilt, the second-guessing, the exhaustion, the I-don’t-feel-like. This is what I’m talking about. Did our mothers feel it? Did they feel how we feel? Were they ever overwhelmed by motherhood and womanhood? Did they have the venting sessions I have with friends?
They made it look so effortless. Was it effortless?
Less expectations
Aunty Dorianne, the youngest of the four and the mother of four boys who are now amazing grown men, says: “Women were much calmer, I think. We were more dedicated to the family. I would wake up, send the children to school, then make sure all was ready. And when they came home, I helped with their homework. My husband worked all day and came home to find everything ready. For me it was acceptable and I was happy. No regrets.”
She hits the nail on the head.
It was acceptable. The expectations were different. Society expected less from women. Women did not pressure themselves to reach those expectations and thick those invisible boxes.
Women with children, many of who chose to be housewives, did not feel they were betraying their careers.
Aunty Dorianne, like her sisters, was fully dedicated to her family. “It was better for the children. My boys tell me they were lucky to have me with them. They tell me that their children won’t be as lucky because nowadays life is different,” she says.
Of course, just like parenting today, full-time parenting was and will always be tiring. Raising children and running a household is rewarding. But it can be physically and emotionally draining.
Aunty Emily, the eldest of the four, got married at the young age of 18.
“I had four children after each other. How could I go to work at a time when nannies did not exist? In the evening I used to be exhausted. I used to put them to sleep very early to have some time for myself. But my husband would often come and find me sleeping with them,” she laughs.
She recalls how all was fine when her hands were full and she was busy. But as the children started growing – she needed something more.
“I had to knead them into one person, together they embody all the skills I admire in human beings: wit, intelligence, compassion, kindness, resilience, empathy, curiosity and the relentless love and respect for family.”
“That was when I started to work. I was alone at home. Everybody was at school and I got fed up. To me work was freedom,” she says. She worked for about five years. Until her ‘nanna support services’ were needed and she chose to dedicate her time to that.
Aunty Emily, who is now a grandmother and great-grandmother, knows how different things are today for younger generations. She has seen her children and grandchildren live a very different life to the one she did.
“Things changed completely. Life has become so expensive that both parents have to work. Now they have to cope with work and all. It is difficult and tiring on a different level,” she says.
Aunty Therese nods in agreement. The mother of one daughter (just like me), she too went to work when her daughter was a teenager. “I wanted to go out. I wanted to do something,” she says.
Like Aunty Emily, she agrees that life is tougher for today’s women. While they have more freedom to live how they want and make their own choices –– the pressure can be high. This is something I often hear my mother talk about also.
The truth is that in many cases, our generation can juggle work and family because we have the support of our mothers.
As my mother says: “We were happily there for you and now we are here for our grandchildren.”
It takes a village…
Because, as the saying goes, “it takes a village to raise a child”. This is so true. I like to take this a step further – that that same village also plays the role of supporting the mother – so she can raise her children.
Because womanhood and motherhood can get overwhelming. Sometimes the responsibility of it all can feel very heavy. My aunts were all blessed with supportive husbands. But they also had the support of each other: practical and emotional support.
They helped each other out with the children. I have many memories of sleepovers at their houses and of cousins sleeping over at ours.
“We never really needed friends because we have each other,” my mum says. She always said that.
“We can’t live without each other,” Aunty Therese adds as Aunty Dorianne says: “We are everything to each other. When you have a sister, you are never alone.”
Aunty Emily adds: “We are like mothers, sisters and friends to each other.” In fact they still meet for their weekly coffees to catch up.
“There is always something to say,” Aunty Emily notes.
My mum adds: “And I send them something every evening.” Just as she does to me and my sister.
Before ending our chat we can not not mention their inspiration – their own mother.
My Nanna Maggie.
Inheriting ‘sisterhood’
“She taught us patience,” Aunty Dorianne says. They agree that she was fully dedicated to the family and they never remember her getting angry or screaming.
“She always had food ready. She used to love cooking and we do as well,” says my mum who still uses her recipes.
I remember her cooking and making dough for us to play with – play dough. Maybe this is why I love making dough so much. The mixing and kneading with my hands brings back this connection. I often joke that I feel connected with my women ancestors when kneading.
Perhaps there is something true there.
Just like the recipes, Nanna Maggie passed on her strong values to her children. And they passed them on to us.
As I write this, I realise that they passed on more than values. They passed on a sense of sisterhood which I carry with me till today with the women in my life: relatives, friends, colleagues and beyond.
These are the women who, when my husband and I moved into our new house (that still needed a lot of work), turned up armed with their buckets and brooms and bits of furniture we needed to make the bare house a home.
“They passed on more than values. They passed on a sense of sisterhood which I carry with me till today with the women in my life: relatives, friends, colleagues and beyond.”
These four women, who all somehow resemble one another, are so different yet so similar.
Aunty Emily is opinionated, focused and giving. Aunty Therese is switched-on, generous and has a great sense of humour. Aunty Dorianne is positive, gentle and strong. And my mum – my Rose – is resourceful, sensitive and kind.
Of course, their traits overlap.
And I like to think that, if I had to knead them into one person, together they embody all the skills I admire in human beings: wit, intelligence, compassion, kindness, resilience, empathy, curiosity and the relentless love and respect for family. All this while always looking amazing, by the way.
They do this while remaining grounded yet oh-so-proud of who they are and where they come from: their Pacebonello line.