Trombetti: To all the women who act like mothers, a big thank-you hug

Bruna Trombetti, left, and her daughter, Lilia Trombetti, enjoy each other’s company. Photo by Courtesy of Lilia TrombettiArticle content

The earliest memories I can recall of missing my mother happened repeatedly on Saturday nights, when I was about three years old. Saturday was when she and my father attended dinner and dance celebrations organized by the Italian community in Ottawa. They would both get all dolled up. My sisters and I would stay home with a sitter.

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At that tender age, I decided that Saturday was the worst day of the week. Sure, my older sisters were off school and could play with me; we had time for a leisurely breakfast; and we visited Nonna and Nonno who were so delighted to see us. But Saturday was the day of abandonment, and my mother would take off dancing with my father and friends.

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“What are you doing?” I would ask, as she deftly sat down in the bathroom parlour chair and examined her face in the mirror. “Nothing, Bella,” she would respond quickly as she lined her lips and brushed her shiny bouffant hairstyle. She was nonchalant, but I was not going to be had. The traitorous spray of perfume was the last straw. “I know you’re going out!” I would yell at the top of my lungs. “You’re leaving us!”

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She would turn gently and smile at me, as good mothers do everywhere, and hug me. “I’ll be back before you know it, Bella. And Mrs. Carson is coming tonight. You’ll be able to colour with her and have some special treats.”

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Saturdays were sad, but magically, she always returned.

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Bruna Trombetti as a young woman, sporting her bouffant hairstyle. Photo by Courtesy of Lilia TrombettiArticle content

As we celebrate wonderful moms everywhere, my mother and I laugh at those infantile outbursts and reflect on the many women who have had a hand in growing her three daughters into what we are today.

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The reality is that for those few hours my mother was out with my father, Mrs. Carson was indeed a pretty good replacement. She was huggable, forgiving, kind and jolly, always smiling, and she had an inventory of creative activities up her sleeve to keep my mind off the obvious.

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When my sisters and I went to Italy to visit relatives, our Aunt Lia was a doppelganger for our mother. Without children of her own, she had a fun, playful side to her, and became our Italian mother and grandmother in one person. We loved visiting her. She listened to all our dreams and fears without judgment, soaked up our worries and was supportive of the young, curious and disciplined women that we would become.

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In the workplace, there was always an older woman who would both secretly and overtly encourage me, depending on the situation. Just as there are proverbial “work husbands” and “work wives,” there are definitely work mothers who stand out — figures who looked out for me and ensured I was prepared for the reality of the business world. They will know who they are. Hi moms number four and five!