I'm nothing new. I'm nothing ironic. I'm just another person stuck in the middle. I am the peanut butter and jelly between two slices of white bread. I have my children and husband on one side of me and my mother on the other. I'm stuck in the sandwich generation.
My kids are teenagers going through the usual teenage stuff. I'm helping them the best I can to get them to that next phase of life - which I can only describe at this point as a semi-independent adult. For most kids it takes a few tries and sometimes many years to achieve complete and total independence. I guess you could say my husband and I were a special breed who were able to walk away from home early on and do it on our own without coming back time and time again. I don't mind that my kids might still live at home into their 20s. After all, I'm not ready for them to grow up and move out just yet anyway.
My mom has been here now four plus years. So much has changed over that time and so much has stayed the same. I admit to have gained some resentment for the situation, but in the end I am glad she is here, that she is safe. Life at my house is tricky at times. It's a delicate balance, walking a thin line trying to stay neutral in most all situations. Even with that I feel stuck, stuck in the middle of my mom and my husband. Both will tell me, ask me, and complain to me about the other. I know that both try to keep most of their opinions and thoughts to themselves, but some will always sneak out. I'm left to listen and try to understand both sides - without taking sides. Sometimes I wonder how full I can become before I burst at the seams.
My mom is incredibly lonely since the passing of my father in 2008. We never expect someone to pass, we are never prepared no matter what, but I think the suddenness of my fathers passing made it more difficult to comprehend. Both my parents were alcoholics. Mom has continued at her breakneck pace of drinking wine by the gallons. She doesn't see her drinking as a problem so she doesn't understand what it does to those around her. It's a sad way to live and a bad wrong way to deal with death. It's made my position ever so difficult at times.
It's a tough position to be in. Some days I want to come home from work and go straight to bed. I don't want to deal with the avoidance of one person and the neediness of the other. Instead I do what needs to be done. I'm always there to sit at the dinner table with mom even when no one else will. I know that sometimes that is the only conversation she has all day. And while I can't be held responsible for all of her happiness, all of her companionship, I still feel the obligation to do what I can to make life a little better for her, no matter the ramifications in my own. I don't expect anyone else to do this, do these things I do for her.
Being both peanut butter and jelly isn't always fun. In fact sometimes its downright unpleasant, but like everyone else stuck in the middle caring for two generations of family, I will continue on doing what I do in hopes it's making a difference in their lives. I don't know any other way to do it.
