Haiku about Entering The Sandwich Generation

 By some definitions, my husband and I are entering "The Sandwich Generation." There are different definitions for that term, but basically they all agree. The Sandwich Generation are those caring for their children and caring for their aging parents. Both our mothers are widows. Both our fathers died too young--my dad 14 years ago; my father-in-law 5 years ago. My mother-in- law lives almost 1500 miles away, while my mom lives about a mile away. These two rather independent women need our support. Emotional support, mostly. And not all the time. On the other side, my husband and I adopted a sibling group, from the foster care system. They have been with us almost 3 years. They need stability, consistency, commitment, and a lot of our time. Just like other children, I know. The difference is that we are making up for lost time--they weren't born into a home that provided such things. We are constantly working on building their trust for us and helping them feel safe. Yes, I would say we are on the fringes of The Sandwich Generation.

This morning I'm thinking of my mother and how a phone call from her made me feel smack in the middle of that sandwich. Luckily, this does not occur on a daily basis. Picture it. I'm in the midst of preparing to leave for a birthday get-together.  (There's this neat kid who celebrated his special day yesterday.). My middle kid is looking forward to this; his friends would be there and he knows it's a fun house to visit. I scramble to find the address; I'm trying to remember my password to Amazon to get a gift certificate. I have to be sure my son is ready to go--did he brush his teeth, eat lunch...then...the phone rings. It's my mother. I let it go; I'll call her when I'm done. My husband's cell phone rings. "It's your mom," he informs me. Must be urgent. I better get this, I resign myself with a deep sigh. "Mija, can you come with me to the emergency?" What's wrong? Did she fall? Is she having trouble breathing? "No. No. I don't feel well and the doctor wants me to get x-rays." She's been fighting a chest congestion for over a week. "Isn't the x-rays by the emergency?" she asks.  Then adds, "The sooner the better." I'm suddenly being pulled--taking my son to a fun  place, or keeping my mom company while getting x-rays. To keep a long story, from getting longer, let's just say that after a little negotiating no one did without. Except me, who probably lost a day off my life due to the rushing to get out the door, and the scare that my mom needed an emergency room. 

So, today, I present a haiku that expresses the occasional turmoil that churns inside of me when I'm asked to care for my mom, while caring for my children.

Kids. Mom. Kids. Mom. Kids.

"Want. Need. Help me. Come. Please. Now."

Kids. Mom. Kids. Mom. Kids.