> CD #86: Sandwich generation
For nearly a decade, I’ve faced the double pressures of caring for little kids as well as my elderly parents, but only in the past couple years have I felt the real squeeze of the sandwich (the panini press? the George Foreman grill?). Everyone in my family is relatively healthy (thank goodness), so it only comes in spurts, but those small eruptions of added responsibility and sometimes hectic activity often leave me spinning—and worrying about what’s to come.
Lately, the sandwich metaphor has felt especially accurate because the care is uncannily similar on both ends. Matching bread slices, really. For example, the day I brought my mom to the doctor in the morning, and then brought my daughter to a different doctor in the afternoon. The drives, the waiting rooms, the conversations with the physicians all had exactly the same vibe.
Or the time I picked up prescription eye drops, dropped them off at my parents’ place, and then drove straight to a different pharmacy to pick up another set of prescription eye drops, this time for my kids.
And it’s not only limited to medical stuff. Recently, my firstborn needed new pants, so I researched styles and sizes online, and ordered a few different pairs to try on at home. They were a little loose in the waist, but kids grow. At the same time, I’d been trying to figure out how to get my mom some new pants too. So yesterday, I finally brought over a pair of mine for her to try. They were a little snug in the waist, but fit well otherwise, so I immediately found a couple pairs online (one size larger) for her.
In both cases, I felt great relief. Relief that I’d found pants they liked since both are kind of picky about their clothes, and relief that I didn’t have to do more legwork (heh).
I don’t want you to think I’m complaining, though. I realize how privileged I am to have the flexibility, support and wherewithal to care for two generations of loved ones. And, this week, after reading Five Little Indians—Michelle Good’s beautifully written heart-wrenching novel about residential school survivors—I’m honestly just thankful to have my children with me and my parents close by.
The sandwich life can be busy and stressful, but it is not a given. In fact, this is the first time in a hundred years that my own family has experienced a lengthy, unbroken span of multigenerational living. My great-grandfather, who immigrated to Canada in 1912 to escape extreme poverty, was separated from his wife and family for decades because of Canada’s Chinese Exclusion Act and, as a result, never really knew his own children. And the only way he could care for them—and his parents—was to send money. Both my parents grew up in China without their fathers around, due to political persecution and economic need. And then my mom and dad escaped to Hong Kong and came to Canada, effectively cutting themselves off from filial responsibility but also from family closeness.
Continuity is a privilege, and so is being deeply embedded in peoples’ daily lives, being someone they can depend on. It’s an honour, actually. And a wonder too.
:) Teresa
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