The Sandwich Generation

 

By Sunshine

 

Sooner or later, most people get asked,”And what do you do?” Depending on the kind of day I have had, I have been known to say, “I raise a mother.”

 

Needless to say, I have gotten some strange looks when I say this. I find that some people first look at me funny, then their expression changes and they respond, “Oh! You too?” We then start discussing this “job” we both share.

 

When I talk about raising a mother, I refer to the fact that I am a member of the increasing majority – the sandwich generation, people who are raising children at the same time that they are having to take more care of one or more parents. I suspect there are many of you reading this who will recognize yourselves here – and you had no idea that this situation even had a name!

 

I don’t know how, where or when the name originated. I just know that it fits. There are days I definitely feel like a slice of baloney squished between all sorts of stuff and two slices of bread. With the kids believing that you “don’t know nothing” (assuming you have children of school age or older), and your parent(s) telling you about the time you were your kids’ age and the goofy things you did, it is easy to forget that you can actually cross the street by yourself!

 

I have been caring for my mother for almost seven years. Before I started, I vaguely knew that this would happen, that other people did the same thing, but I don’t know that I knew anybody that was actually doing it. Now, I know several. I don’t know if I am just looking harder, or if the situation is becoming more common.

 

As those who are there know, being in the sandwich Generation can be . . well, difficult and confusing. Someplace between work and home I became considerably less competent. Children see me as . . uh . . “old.” As in ancient. Prehistorical. Out of Jurassic Park ancient. You know the questions: What was Columbus like? Did you ever meet George Washington? Old.

 

Then there is Mother. The author of this column is the world's oldest, gangliest ten year old.

I doubt a day goes by in which she does not say something to the effect that, “But I can only see you as that ten year old kid . . .” (Which IS better than being seen as “the two year who . . .”). I do not understand why I continue to remind her that some people in the world view me as a competent adult. I came home to help her BECAUSE I was viewed as competent and able to manage the paperwork. She acknowledges this, then tells me what should be done, or how to do a particular job.

 

It isn’t that I mind the comments and suggestions. What gets to me is that mother manages to give me these comments as if I were ten again. I do have some abilities. Mother knows and is proud of this – I have heard her tell others about things I have done (not always factually, but . . .) then turn around and ask me if I am warm enough. Do I need a sweater? Did I get enough sleep last night? Isn’t it past my bed time? Did I have enough to eat? Sometimes I wonder if she thinks I have the sense to come in out of the rain. I must admit, however, I have never asked her. I don’t want the answer.

 

I find that it helps keep me sane when I talk to others who also have to walk the thin line between child/parent/self.

 

So, write and let us hear from you. Tell your story and your tips. Take refuge in the fact that YOU ARE NOT ALONE!

Maybe some day you will find something similar to your situation and you can show this column to your children/spouse/friends/others as proof that you are not making your stories up!

 

I just heard there is a new Robin Williams movie out about a the year old who looks like a forty year old. I wonder if the person who wrote the screenplay is a member of the Sandwich Generation?

By Sunshine

Published U.S. Legacies September 1996