I was born in 1946, the first of what would become the most powerful generation of Americans theretofore seen. In the past five years I have become a caretaker for a husband with cancer, an aging mother, and a part time sitter for grandchildren. I know that my experience parallels that of the 78 million Americans born between 1946 and 1964, who have survived long enough to be senior citizens. We truly are the sandwich generation, facing a set of problems that have never before been encountered by so many at the same time.
I am not by nature or inclination a servant type personality. I didn’t even enjoy caring for my own children when they were infants. When we brought our first daughter, a colicky, cranky infant, home from the hospital, she screamed and cried every night. I thought “Who is this stranger interrupting my sleep and demanding every minute of my attention?” I wasn’t suddenly overcome with motherly feelings. When our second was born 13 months later, I would carry her downstairs, turn on the oven (no I didn’t put her in it), prop my feet up on the stove, and feed her a bottle while I read whatever book I was engrossed in at the time. At least I held her. I guess that counts for something.
I met their needs but I was not a hands-on, nurturing type of Mom. Even though I stayed at home with them, took care of them when they were sick, fed them nutritious meals, I can’t say I loved the job. I enjoyed it much more when they developed personalities and became somewhat independent. I wasn’t one of those mothers or grandmothers who loved to sit and rock a sleeping baby. That’s not to say that I didn’t love my children. It’s just that I found taking care of them extremely boring.
Knowing how I felt about caregiving with my own children, how I feel about it now should not come as a surprise. So how do you pull it off if you are among many, like myself, who were not born suited to the task?
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