The Sandwich Generation

Guess which one is the Kindly Hermudgeon ! Not a clue? Read on !

So, yesterday, totally weary, I was due to schlep down to me soon-to-be-93-year-old Mum’s house, some 40 minutes south of me, to pick her up to go to a Glenn Miller concert at a venue about 20 minutes north of her home.  Are we getting the picture yet ?  No ? Well, hold on Patient Reader.

You see, the KH spent a good part of the day before yesterday driving 45 minutes in a blinding rain with her lovely daughter and precious granddaughter to a store my daughter likes that had advertised that they were beginning to do lay-aways for the holidays.  The same store in the town where we live does not do lay-aways.  (That may need to be the subject of a rant some time soon.) Granddaughter, who is coming into her own, verbally, these days did provide some moments of comic relief when we ate out after shopping.  Two-and-a-half is a delightfully-funny age 🙂

Last week, I mitigated and/or provided moral support to my daughter for 3 unanticipated events, not of her own creation, that caused her a great deal of stress.  Since she is not only working 2 jobs but also is 6 months pregnant, what’s a Mom to do ?

I also insisted that my Mom follow through with an appointment to see her new medical Internist (because her concierge doctor’s rates are increasing this month by 25% annually) and I coordinated the appointment, exchange of medical records, etc.

Then, yesterday, I went with daughter and granddaughter to do grocery shopping until her missing-paycheck-direct debit fiasco (1 of 3 “events,” above) was taken care of by her corporation over-nighting a paper check to her.

But back to the concert.  With about an hour of “free time” left before I was due to leave,  I lay down to take a nap.  BIG mistake.  I had set my alarm, but in my bleary state I set it for 6:15 AM, not 6:15 PM.  I awoke with a start — a bit like in “The Night Before Christmas,” squinted at the clock, and saw that it was 6:45 PM: the time I was due to pick up Mom.  “@_#*@!$*_@!,” I exclaimed to my 3 resident felines who all turned deaf ears and went back to sleep.

So … I called Mom.  Luckily, she had a brainstorm: she said she’d call a taxi and meet me at the venue.  Yay, Mom ! Good thinking 🙂  Luckily, too, I had all my things packed for my overnight at her home, so I had only to freshen up, jump into my clothes and hurdle down the highway just a bit over the speed limit.

I arrived at the concert with 1 minute to spare, and Mom arrived only a few minutes later.  For the next 2-1/2 hours we were in Glenn Miller heaven and set off for Chez Mom with a souvenir CD in the car’s player.

After an uneventful morning, we set off for the doc’s office.  During the 20-minute drive, Mom informed me that she had a realtor coming at 4 PM with prospective buyers.  She had forgotten that we had an appointment after the doctor visit to tour another independent living facility.  (Have I mentioned that I’m helping Mom find one of those?)  So, from the doc’s office, I called the facility to let them know we’d be a bit late.

The doctor’s visit ended on schedule and we arrived at the ILF at the re-scheduled time and took our tour with a very gracious representative who quickly won over Mom with her warm, caring personality. (Yay, Kim!)  We rocketed back down the highway after our tour and arrived at Mom’s 1 minute before the realtor pulled up with his prospects.

Having earned a few more feathers on my angel wings, I headed north once again, toward home.  I even managed to beat most of the 5 o’clock traffic 🙂

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I’m not complaining.  Well, not really.  But, I’m tired again.  Glad to be home, glad to have survived this past week.  Wondering what the next week will bring about in this new sandwich business of mine.  If you’ve been reading about “the sandwich generation” but have not yet experienced it, fasten your seat belt!

I suppose the end results were good: Daughter felt supported and already has paid me back; Mom has a new doctor she likes and is making progress toward finding a new place to call “home”; Mom and I shared some wonderful concert time and discussion time afterward; and the new prospects may be making an offer on her home.

As for me, I’m taking the week off.  If you want a sandwich, make it yourself!!!!

This entry was posted in Aging Parents, Fiascos, Sandwich Generation and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to The Sandwich Generation

  1. Loved your post! Nice to know I’m not the only one… last week there were 2 days at the doctor with grandma, lunch with my 16 year old daughter, activities with my 11 year old… husband, work, life… can I have this week off?

    Keep sharing, please! 🙂

    • cwc6161 says:

      After visiting your wonderful blog, I see now how and why you relate, Ann ! I’d like to take at least the next century off … but that means I’d have to give up my idea of coming back SOON to haunt everyone ! 😉

      See you soon, I hope, either your place of mine 🙂

  2. Kat Ward says:

    I’m just stepping my big toe into the “sandwich” life as my girl is 13 and my parents in their late 70s, still living independently, though I spend a lot of time when I’m visiting scrubbing grimey plates, foggy glasses—dirt all over the house that isn’t seen anymore, not cleaned well or at all. I told my daughter the other morning to go fix her own breakfast as I was running behind and then had to remind her to clean up before we walked out the door for school—and she just looked at me like “Whaaa?” Here’s the cold hard truth, my darling. Mama ain’t the maid, chef, butler and nanny no mo’.

    Thanks for the read, and hang in there!

    • cwc6161 says:

      lol Kat, forewarned is forearmed, but it sounds as though you have things handled 🙂 I can relate 100% — from both the daughter and the mother perspective !! I love the shock that sets in when a “child” realizes they’re going to have to pitch in ! You hang in there too, GF !! Hugz

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