The club sandwich generation

I am so “over” summer.

As the mother of three adults, grandmother of one, daughter and daughter-in-law of ... how do I say this without shooting myself in the foot ... parents who ... well ... they are ... ummm ... oh heck, they’re getting older, I find myself “doing for” more people than I ever imagined I would be at this point in my life. However, I realize I’m not alone since those in my situation have our very own moniker ... we’re card-carrying members of the “club sandwich generation” — we’re grandparents caught between the demands of supporting children (whether in the home or financially) and providing care to our aging parents.

My mom has been dealing with some major health issues recently. Since July 13, she has found herself in the care of some wonderful (and a few not-as-wonderful) nurses, doctors and support staff at hospitals in Sedalia, Mo., Kansas City, Lincoln, Neb., Red Oak and Des Moines — five hospitals in three states in two months. (FYI — since she has more than qualified herself as an expert on hospitals, she rates Iowa Methodist as numero uno.)

For me this has meant trying to juggle work, home and family, while spending as much time with her as possible by driving the 3 to 3.5 hours during her out-of-state stays to be with her every weekend, spending many nights trying to sleep in chairs in both waiting rooms and hospital rooms, early morning trips to Methodist before work and back again throughout the evening once I clocked out, while adding 3,000 miles to my car.

My youngest, Carson, began his third year of college at Iowa State University. Two of his former roommates moved this summer and with them went the couch, recliners, coffee table, etc. We had agreed when the time came, we would pass our living room furniture on to him and we kept that promise. The only problem was, we didn’t have time to shop for new furniture, so my living room sat rather bare for most of August.

We’re also enjoying spending bonus time with Josh, our oldest, and his 4-year-old. I’ll never complain when any of the kids call and ask what I’m fixing for supper because they want to come home and hang out with us. But let’s face it, no work gets done when you have a 4-year-old grandson at your house.

My mom is now living with us, at least through the winter, and I would have it no other way. We’re doing what we need to do and we’re making it work.

However, over the weekend, my father-in-law fell and broke his femur, his elbow and his lower arm. That meant more days off for hubby and trips (and more miles on my car) to be with his dad in the hospital in Council Bluffs.

Seriously, I’m concerned my house will resemble Charlie’s hovel in “Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” before long. I’ll have one giant bed in my dining room and just start filling it with my kids’ grandparents.

Contact Dana King at dking@shawmedia.com