The Sandwich Generation

When I picked up the phone, I was going to say I was too busy to come. I had things to do at home; the dishwasher needed to be emptied and filled again, the laundry needed to be folded, paperwork needed to be done. But when she said, “Come on over! Some of the other moms just got here and I just put the sandwiches in the oven!” I couldn’t say no. Instead, I told her that Emmy and I would be right over.

I know this group of moms enough to say hi to; enough to talk about the newest grocery store in town and how it’s saving us money; enough to talk about the ballet recital our daughters are in together. All this talk takes place in passing, as we’re picking up our children from school or as we run into each other while shopping.

Sitting down to lunch with these women gave us time to share more about each other. We talked about our stubborn kids, sleepovers, and school. We talked about our parents, about how they were getting older. One’s mother-in-law was in a wheelchair after a stroke. Another one’s father is dealing with dementia and Parkinson’s. We talked about how we truly are the sandwich generation. We are taking care of our parents while also taking care of our young children.

These women go about their daily lives, taking their children to school and washing a load of laundry and taking their daughters to ballet lessons and going grocery shopping and preparing dinner. And in between all that, they take care of their parents who need them.

These women are inspirational. That simple lunch showed me the bigger picture.

Simple BPM

Technically, I’m not a part of this sandwich generation. I really admire those women who are. Dad was Mom’s caregiver until she died. He’s very healthy, and I hope he stays that way for many more years. In a way, however, I hope that I am taking care of him through my love and support of all that he does.

I’m continuing my posts for Women’s History Month by writing about inspirational women. For more simple moments that show the bigger picture, visit Alita today.

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Tickle Me Emmy

Her pants are too short. My little Emmy, at 3 1/2, is starting to get taller. She still has those chubby little baby legs, but they are lengthening. The cute little toddler belly, sticking out like a little buddha belly, won’t last long now.
One of her favorite games is to pretend she is sleeping. She screws her eyes shut tight and lies in a little ball on the couch. Emmy! I’ll call. I’m sleeping! she yells.
I sneak up on her and that irresistible belly makes me
*T I C K L E  E M M Y!*
Stop, stop! She’s giggling and yelling at the same time. NO MORE TICKLING, MOMMY! 
I have strict rules about tickling. If the girls tell me to stop, I stop.
Okay, I say, and then I walk away.
Emmy gets up, and follows me.
Tickle me again, Mommy! And so I
*T I C K L E  E M M Y!*
I lift her up and kiss her sweet neck, relishing the time we have together while her big sister is in school. Soon Emmy will be going to school. Her little buddha belly will disappear. These days as a stay-at-home mom will soon disappear as well.
I am lucky to have had these days.
Simple BPM
Read more simple moments at Undercover Mother.

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