Most of my elder care, for all seven elders, coincided with my raising kids. It does affect our children and they have to give up a lot of us. I tried to juggle it all, and I'm sure I failed each generation to some degree. But I did my best. It was all I could do.
Here's my story.... and I am so there with you two! My mom passed away three years ago and all my dad would say was, "Who is gonna take care of me now?" and I knew the row ahead was gonna be a tough one to hoe... Two years later almost to the day of her passing, I had to put my dad in a nursing home... I would not put up with his verbal abuse nor would I let my kids (10 and 6) be around him. He's lazy and likes to be waited on and to criticize... My kids come first! He is incontinent and no longer has any muscle tone. He has basically sat too long. He fell, ended up in hospital, and went to nursing home for rehab but liked it so well and wouldn't do therapy!
I am praying for both of you, dstock and nina! It's not easy, I know...! The guilt, the worry, the lack of help from family... don't get me started!
I also am there. I have a 13 yr old and a 17 yr old. My mother does not live with us (thank goodness), but is difficult and lazy and expects me to do everyting for her. She lives in an independant living facility, so does get her meals, but needs a supply at home too. So I do the grocery shopping. There is a laundry room, but she refuses to take her laundry there, so I do her laundry. There is abus to take them shopping and to doctors appts., but she refuses to do it, so I do...She calls a dozen times a day and complains when I am too busy to come rushing over. If I say I'm doing something with or for my kids, she gets jealouse and tells me what a terrible daughter I am because "she should come first!" It is not a pretty picture and we "sandwich" generation kids have a tough row to hoe.
Yes, I am in the same situation you're in. My youngest is 12 and I have a college son, who drives me crazy at times. I'm now raising my nephew who is 6 yrs old. I am caring for my 76 year old mother.
I am so overwhelmed and don't know how much longer I can keep this up. My mother lives in her own home and cannot cook for herself or really groom herself. I am over her house twice a day (before work and after work). My siblings do not help out, but just cause confusion.
They call this a sandwich generation (rasing your children on top of caring for a senior parent).
Thank you all for sharing. I know it is not easy being in the position we are in.
I only can try to put things into place when I get to be an elderly person because I do not want to put this burden on my children. This is such an ruff life to go through and especially being young and want to taste LIFE.
Sometimes I wonder if I've sacrificed my young son to my needy mother. My husband says he feels he lost me. Sometimes I feel I've lost myself as well. I keep thinking I'll redeem what I once had some time down the line. Sometimes I think my son will be gone before I realize that I've lost him, too. Sobering thoughts.
Ah, the old money game. My brother thinks he is getting half mom's money. Won't he be surprised to find out that we spent it all on her. Nothing is wrong with her that is life threatening, just life altering. So, she gets lots of care and will be here for a long while. He should have stayed with her on our vacations. It would have been money in the bank!
Shortly after becoming a widower and leaving the Marine Corps, I took my 70 y/o mother in for about two years. I felt as if raising three children instead of two boys on what seemed self-destruct mode. In a nutshell, she moved in to spoil them instead of giving me a hand while I became accustomed to the idea of single parenthood. Whatever they wanted they got, including ear piercing at the age of 10 and calling each other names they weren't born with. I was mortified and asked her to make arrangements to move out to a senior citizen residence here in the South Bronx, but my sisters -- all 13 of them -- laid a guilt trip on me that allowed her to stay for another three years.
In the meantime, I continued to drop by residences for the elderly and noticed many of them behaved just like my sons did before hitting puberty. At first, I thought people do regress mentally as they get older. But then I realized my mother, like Michael Jackson, didn't really have a childhood. Instead of toys on Three Kings Day (aka "Little Christmas"), she got school supplies and uniforms. Play, the arena where children develop their cognitive skills, wasn't allowed. Neither were friends. She simply cooked, cleaned, and learned other skills that would eventually make her a desirable wife and mother at the age of 14. It became clear to me, then, that I was dealing with a human being that didn't get a chance to completely develop and predestined to a life of poverty, multiple pregnancies (16), and regular beatings at the hands of drunken part-time husbands and shadow fathers. Still, she scrounged around long enough and taught us the value of education and importance of self-reliance. I resented many things she did to us because I didn't know where they came from and there are no excuses for it, like collective punishment as a preventive measure. But compared to other "thugs in training" she did a fairly good job and kept me from ending up dead or in jail next to a burly, sweaty six-footer called Flaco.
I was grateful and loved her to death, but the reality was that she was my guest, those were MY children, and that was MY house complete with norms and individual responsibilities designed to maintain the structure necessary for overall peace, stability, balance, and a modicum of sanity. The ubiquitous "I'm your mother!," a built-in excuse to keep doing whatever she wanted, no longer worked; and she knew it. She had to finish growing up and maturing along with my children, the problem was putting everything in a language she'd understand and accept. I had to be consistent with the TLC if she was to get with the program and see me a a self-respecting man that will not put up with rebellious behavior -- even from his mother.
To make a long story short, we have a much different relationship from the ones she has with my sisters; a rowdy bunch of chickens chattering in a churchyard who rarely listen, let alone help anyone else. (You either love them or leave them alone, which explains why I avoid family reunions.) Mom lives in a senior citizen residence not far from my home in Kingsbridge, no longer curses, overdoses on bingo every Sunday, volunteers at a soup kitchen for people living with HIV/AIDS twice a week, and the daycare centers in her neighborhood wish she'd be available more often. She has grown; she has matured; and she is what she has always been in my heart: a goddess. All it took was a little tough love, patience, guidance, and mutual understanding.
That happens to all of us honey money is always a issue thank you government of the United State. ! that being said I choose the people over the money no matter how bad I am treated, I try to be humble very hard for someone with my temperment but doing a good job at trying. I am proud of me I have come a long way baby still have things to work on but money haha can't miss something you never had just like love from a mother so I am my own mother did a pretty good job with my kid so I know I can do a good job for me. Some things you just have to give to the Lord and let him handle them or you will get depressed and crazy and I don't want to be either. Although my husband would sometimes disagree LOL
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Carol
I am praying for both of you, dstock and nina! It's not easy, I know...! The guilt, the worry, the lack of help from family... don't get me started!
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It is not a pretty picture and we "sandwich" generation kids have a tough row to hoe.
I am so overwhelmed and don't know how much longer I can keep this up. My mother lives in her own home and cannot cook for herself or really groom herself. I am over her house twice a day (before work and after work). My siblings do not help out, but just cause confusion.
They call this a sandwich generation (rasing your children on top of caring for a senior parent).
I only can try to put things into place when I get to be an elderly person because I do not want to put this burden on my children. This is such an ruff life to go through and especially being young and want to taste LIFE.
In the meantime, I continued to drop by residences for the elderly and noticed many of them behaved just like my sons did before hitting puberty. At first, I thought people do regress mentally as they get older. But then I realized my mother, like Michael Jackson, didn't really have a childhood. Instead of toys on Three Kings Day (aka "Little Christmas"), she got school supplies and uniforms. Play, the arena where children develop their cognitive skills, wasn't allowed. Neither were friends. She simply cooked, cleaned, and learned other skills that would eventually make her a desirable wife and mother at the age of 14. It became clear to me, then, that I was dealing with a human being that didn't get a chance to completely develop and predestined to a life of poverty, multiple pregnancies (16), and regular beatings at the hands of drunken part-time husbands and shadow fathers. Still, she scrounged around long enough and taught us the value of education and importance of self-reliance. I resented many things she did to us because I didn't know where they came from and there are no excuses for it, like collective punishment as a preventive measure. But compared to other "thugs in training" she did a fairly good job and kept me from ending up dead or in jail next to a burly, sweaty six-footer called Flaco.
I was grateful and loved her to death, but the reality was that she was my guest, those were MY children, and that was MY house complete with norms and individual responsibilities designed to maintain the structure necessary for overall peace, stability, balance, and a modicum of sanity. The ubiquitous "I'm your mother!," a built-in excuse to keep doing whatever she wanted, no longer worked; and she knew it. She had to finish growing up and maturing along with my children, the problem was putting everything in a language she'd understand and accept. I had to be consistent with the TLC if she was to get with the program and see me a a self-respecting man that will not put up with rebellious behavior -- even from his mother.
To make a long story short, we have a much different relationship from the ones she has with my sisters; a rowdy bunch of chickens chattering in a churchyard who rarely listen, let alone help anyone else. (You either love them or leave them alone, which explains why I avoid family reunions.) Mom lives in a senior citizen residence not far from my home in Kingsbridge, no longer curses, overdoses on bingo every Sunday, volunteers at a soup kitchen for people living with HIV/AIDS twice a week, and the daycare centers in her neighborhood wish she'd be available more often. She has grown; she has matured; and she is what she has always been in my heart: a goddess. All it took was a little tough love, patience, guidance, and mutual understanding.
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