I have to state upfront that this is a really great problem to have, as far as I am concerned. Meaning, I have choices to make, and I can make them, which is a far cry from the alternative. It has been this tricky dance of whose needs are greatest as I maneuver through my obligations and responsibilities these days. Most women in the “sandwich” generation are like my sister-in-law, who is being torn in two by aging, ill parents in one state and a job and husband in another. She has children, but they are in their twenties and not a day-to-day demand. Which, if there is any blessing in this exhausting scenario, it is that she can go home and collapse if she needs to.
My mother is ill, but at least she lives with me, which makes it much easier–on me, at least, and I think it is easier for her, too. My kids are a constant responsibility, and although my mother is utterly undemanding, she is always on my mind, too. Much like a child, you wonder, did I spend enough time with her today? Does she feel loved? Does she feel lonely? Does she have enough juice, sleep, stimulation? I had to laugh the other day as I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth at midnight, listening to Tom snore: I expend so much energy making sure everyone under this roof has my attention, concern, strength, love and affection and organizational skills. Do any of them wonder if I am getting enough juice? Yeah, right. But see, that’s my problem. The downside of seeming (notice I said seeming) capable and invincible is you teach people to look right past you. And you know, I can’t see that there is anything redeeming about that anymore, especially since it is echoed in my profession. I know people who are emotionally indefatigable, but I am not one of them. I only have so much in reserve every day.
I love having my mother close by. And I think it has been a real gift for both the kids and my mom to live together, as they all adore helping each other out. But I am the lynchpin here, and all summer I wondered how long I can hold out at this pace, especially if I am teaching. I knew I would never regret taking time off from teaching, but I would always regret not being available to my mother. As I stewed over all of this, a gift from the powers that be dropped in my lap. A job that would allow me a more flexible schedule and the ability to drop everything and help my mother if need be. A job that–and this is the dreamiest part–I do not have to dress for.
It took me about a minute to decide. My department head was very supportive. I can’t tell you the relief. It took me this long to write about it because, honestly, I kept wondering if it was unreal, and I’d wake up to some horrible message on my voice mail retracting everything. I feel like someone just hooked me up to oxygen.
I tell you, these are great problems to have.