The rare birds of San Miguel, By Dione Goyette

This is a column about families, and central to families is one subject of great interest to me: mothers. I see the beauty in the faces of the Mexican mothers as they effortlessly carry their sweet babies strapped to their bodies, and I just know they know something we expat mothers don't.

I'm still trying to figure that out, but for now I would like to reflect on the American mothers of young children I have met here in Mexico. They are a different and wonderful breed.

First of all, I have to say that I have made some of the closest friends I have ever known here, and I made those friends in a very brief period of time. I have heard this same revelation from many women here, and we continually ask ourselves why that is. My theory is that because we are the type of people that would come here to live (either for a short or a long period of time) we have a huge common denominator right from the start. Many of the first conversations I have with women here last well over an hour as we eagerly share our "how and why we got here" stories. Even though these stories are uncannily familiar, they create an immediate bond-and we know that at least in one respect inside each of us we are the same.

As you get to know these mothers, though, you see many other similarities. Many have told me they felt "different" as they stood in their respective el Norte school playgrounds and that they couldn't help feeling there was just something "more" out there. Not content to resign ourselves to a slow and painful death in the laundry room and the mall, we all looked outside and took that leap of faith that broke some kind of barrier between what we were dealt and what we really wanted ... not just for us but for our families, too.

My friend Holland says that she has seen a certain joie de vivre in the women she has met here. (No wonder! We escaped!) But she's right. I see more joy and excitement in these faces and not so many of the frazzled, bedraggled looks of the downtown mothers I knew back home (and mine was one of them, I might add). At the bus stop I hear more stories about restaurant or excursion discoveries than I do about disgruntled neighbors or parking tickets. I hear about beautiful birds people see or the way the light hits the wall of a certain casa. I hear funny stories about our encounters with the Mexican culture, and I feel a certain security from these women as we all try to maneuver our way through this land and language and these customs.

A few of my friends have confided that they feel uncomfortable talking to their friends back home when they are here. Some of these "back-home" friends (especially the ones who haven't visited) find it hard to understand what it's really like here in San Miguel; this is quite possibly a symptom of our inability to use words to describe this life here. They also say that their "back-home" friends talk about things like renovations and shopping and movies and television and dizzying after-school activities, diversions we are so desperately trying to shed. It's just not our focus anymore. Our focus has shifted and it is shifting for all of us together, so we become closer.

I have kept in touch with some of the mothers who have left, and I hear some frightening things about "re-entry." They say that, for them, Mexico seems just like a dream and it's hard to believe they were ever here. I hear that some of them get depressed and that their lives seem somewhat "soul-less" back home.

And worst of all, I hear that they basically go right back to the lives they left, finding it hard to hang onto the ideals they learned while they were here.

However, this is not the case with all who have left. One friend went home, sold her big, renovated house within a week and bought a house half the size that needed some "help." Her husband gave notice at work (so that they could start their own business), and they bought a lime-green Westfalia RV with a shag-rug interior. They took their simplified life from Mexico and made a facsimile as best they could at home. Phew! At least there's a little hope for the rest of us whenever we are forced to leave.

Finally, I find it interesting that when I am out with my friends here who are mothers, we spend very little time talking about our children. Maybe it's because we are just getting to know each other and there is so much to learn, or maybe it's because there is just so much else to talk about as we continue our journeys here in Mexico. The mothers I knew before moving here gave so much to their kids. They gave them activities and outlets and opportunities and the latest equipment and crammed schedules, and they ended up giving themselves away in the process. They had very little left to give their friends (that was me too, of course!). The moms I have met here are much more relaxed and have more to give of themselves, and so they give little bits away to me and I greedily accept. I accept it and I keep it safe because I know what a rare bird it is to have friends like these.

Dione Goyette is the mother of three and novia/esposa to one. She and her family currently live in San Miguel. She can be contacted at
mexgoyettes@yahoo.com