When my children were small and my life was full of fighting, my only dream was the day when I would leave “baby years” behind me and finally regain my life.
Now my children are almost adult. They drive a car themselves, make breakfast, have their own plans and life.
But the freedom I wanted so long turned out to be elusive, because just when my teenagers need me less, my parents need me more.
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My parents are over 80 years old. There are more and more medical visits that you have to worry about, more and more mysterious chest pains or dizziness, which spend their night's sleep. There is also less captivated sadness – see them every time a little weaker, a little less independent.
And although my teenagers physically need me less, their financial needs are growing rapidly. Now you have to pay for studies, gas gasoline, contribute to the rent and phone bills, sponsor the holidays that they want to go with friends and concerts that I want them to survive.
We live longer than ever and we have children later, which is why more and more of us belong to the “sandwich generation”worried about the aging parents and supporting adolescents, but not yet fully independent children.
For me and my husband, this means that in the near future we will not experience carefree life. Once it was the baby's crying, he pulled us out of bed in the morning, semi -conscious and irritable sleep. Now it is a fear of a nightmarish phone at three in the morning does not give us to sleep-a phone that can come as well from an older parent after a sudden visit to the SOR, as well as from a desperate teenager who stuck on the side of the road with a pierced tire.
I am not rejuvenating either
At the same time, an additional layer in this “sandwich” is the fact that my husband and I am also aging.
When we had small children, we were young, fit and full of energy. Our young bodies and minds coped with sleepless nights and night visits to SOR. Nobody else needed us then.
Now our middle -aged bodies and minds are stretched in two directions. My husband has completely married, ignores his growing pressure, and I ignore the sore hip, unruly hormones and the cerebral fog. We can never really turn off, and being “on the phone” constantly takes its toll.
We cannot throw everything, turn off the phone or disappear from the network for one day – because someone may need us.
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I carry a lot of guilt
There is also a sense of guilt – as mother and as daughters.
Am I a good enough mother? Am I too much friend and too little mother? Should I cry with children? Should their father and I be arguing with them? What about that party when I got drunk to unconsciousness and saw how I vomit in the driveway? This is an endless list of samobic, which every parent will recognize.
At the same time, the daughter's guilt appears. Do I visit my parents often often? Am I calling enough often? Should I take their lunch in the form of casseroles every day? Should I insist that they wear a personal alarm that connects directly to the emergency services? And if I am honest, I also feel blamed for the anger I feel when I see that they are getting older and weaker. Angry on them that they allow themselves to be aged that they will be taken away from one day.
After all, there are moments of sweets
There is also a bittersweet joy among all this. There is nothing more beautiful than a moment when all three generations are together. Three boys – son, father and grandfather – watch the match cricket. Women – my daughter, me and my mother – we watch the movie and we cry at the same time.
In such moments there is pure joy and love. Just then, this “sandwich” tastes best.
The above text is a translation with American Business Insider edition
