When Parenting Comes Full Circle
Tales from being knee-deep in the sandwich generation
As happens fairly often these days, I came across a video that stopped me in my tracks. And probably the initial reason for that is that I saw a man wiping his eyes during an interview, not something you typically see in this day and age of toxic masculinity and the stifling of male emotions. I’m not sure if this is an old video, but it was new to me, and it’s just such a lovely interview of Scott Galloway on Steven Bartlett’s podcast, The Diary of a CEO. Bartlett says that Galloway admitted to being a middle-aged man who hasn’t gotten over the loss of his parents, and then Bartlett asks him, “Is there a way to?”
Galloway replies:
“I don’t want to. I think the receipts for love is grief. I hope my boys feel the same way about me. It hasn’t gotten in the way of my life. It makes me be more bold with my emotions. I used to see it as a problem. I went to grief counseling. Now I see not as a bug, but as a feature. And so what I would tell every young person is that I hope they have a lot of joy in their life. I also hope they have a decent amount of grief because that means they have people they love immensely. You can never tell your parents how much you love them too much.”
I saw another video recently made by a hospice worker who said that it’s well known in their field that when people call out towards the end, it’s almost always for their mothers, no matter how old they are. Wow, what an awesome responsibility. If you’re doing that job right, you should be the most important person or persons in your child’s life.
This brings me to this past Mother’s Day. Before I get into it, I have a confession—over the last 10 years or so, I’ve become what can only be described as a curmudgeon. I’ve gotten divorced, lost many friends in said divorce, been stolen from by a former best friend, had my car stolen, and many, many more things that have made me one of those people who are in a constant state of wincing, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When Mother’s Day comes around, I steel myself for disappointment. I write about it every year, and I always make sure to say first that I love my boys more than I ever thought possible. But… these are boys we’re talking about (sorry, guys), and my ex-husband isn’t going to be one to encourage any breakfast-in-bed scenario. And I know for certain that I’m not the only one who feels this way, as I read story after story of mothers' disappointment on social media, even when we’ve all tried to tell ourselves to have zero expectations.
This Mother’s Day, however, was absolutely delightful—possibly even my best one yet. My son, who is going off to college in the fall, wrote me a card that blew me away with its contents, calling me his “best friend” and thanking me for all the obstacles I’ve helped him overcome. I also found a photo (that he didn’t tag me in, but whatevs) of him and me that read “Happy Mother’s Day to the G.O.A.T.” GULP. I then went to my favorite pizza place, and my ex-husband even joined us. I listened to a singer-songwriter type perform all my favorite tunes while I felt the sun on my face, and my boys played catch. I took a moment to stop and think, man, this is the stuff, right here.
Fast forward to this coming June, and my parents will be coming all the way from Florida to move in with my boys and me in North County San Diego. They are no longer safe to live on their own, and to say this situation is causing stress for us all is an understatement. My parents are loath to give up what they see as their independence, and I’m terrified about how we’re going to make it all work … not to mention the stress and overwhelm from the move itself.
Even with this trepidation, I’m so happy knowing that I can now have a nearly 24/7 opportunity to help keep them safe. In the last 10 years or so, I’ve flown out for surgeries, a near-choking accident, hurricanes, and more. When I’ve left to return to California, I’ve never been fully confident that they would be okay before my next visit.
This will be a chance to say “thank you” to parents who have done so incredibly much for me. A lot of people have called me a “saint” and the like for doing this, but I don’t see it that way. This is the natural order of things. My parents sacrificed so much to give me the life that I’ve had, and if I have to give up a few things here and there to return this giant mountain of a favor, I am honored to do so.
Yes, this so-called sandwich generation stuff can be excruciating, but in the coming months and hopefully years, I’ll be so happy to sit down with my parents, reminisce, and hopefully give them a soft place to land.