The author, pictured with her youngest daughter, said she regrets how much caring for her mother took her away from her parenting.Courtesy of Theresa Siller.I struggled to provide care for my mother and my youngest child simultaneously.Looking back, I wish that I had been able to find a better balance for my time.I know I did the best I could, and I appreciate my daughter for giving me grace over this.I remember the evening well. My family, along with my mother, was enjoying buttery breadsticks and delicious salads at Olive Garden, awaiting our entrées. We treated ourselves to this special outing, prior to our youngest daughter, then 11, facing kidney surgery the next day.
Just as the chicken marsala and the linguine arrived, my mom's front tooth fell out. We quickly placed it into a protective baggie, but I knew I wouldn't be able to address her need for dentistry the following day, since my husband and I would be at the hospital, providing comfort to our nervous tween.In that moment, bewildered, I realized the untenable situation — my inability to meet my mother's and my daughter's needs simultaneously. It was then that I fully understood the emotional impact of being part of the sandwich generation.For 10 years, my husband and I helped my octogenarian mom, who was low-vision.
We were happy to be there for her, but it took a toll on us, especially our youngest daughter. Looking back, I wish I had been able to balance everyone's needs better.The author (middle) said that caring for her mom often meant she missed out on some parts of parenting her youngest daughter.Courtesy of Theresa Siller.My responsibilities pulled me in two directionsMy mother adored all her grandkids, but she seemed to hold a special place in her heart for my youngest. She affectionately called her "Grammy's little bobolink."
One time, while watching her on the trampoline, Mom smiled and said, "What poetry in motion." When she became a tween, mom marveled at how "self-assured" she was.The irony is not lost on me that, for all that love and high regard for her granddaughter, my mother, through no fault of her own, took me away from her.Hectic was just a way of lifeMy mom loved riding shotgun to the retinologist, dermatologist, internist, dentist, as well as to visit the bank, grocery store, hairdresser, church, and attend her many social events.Our two older daughters embarked on their own busy lives as teenagers during this time, but our third daughter lost my presence at home while I was shuttling my mom to all of those appointments and events.My youngest has always been an old soul, independent and artistic.
She'd rather be at home creating than waiting in the car or at a doctor's office. Once, I received a text from her, "Where are you?" Rushed as usual, I had failed to write her a note explaining where I was and when I'd be returning.
I am awash with guilt about being gone so much from her, even years later.I know I did the best I couldCan I get a do-over? No, I cannot. My mom needed our help, and I'm glad she could count on us.
At times when I look back on those merry-go-round days, I am filled with melancholy, for the resulting quality time I know I lost with my youngest.Today, my mother is no longer with us, and my daughter is a talented clothing designer and a thriving college student. I have shared my sadness to her about my lack of presence at home while she was in her tweens. She has given me generous grace over this. I am hugely grateful for the relationship we have, even if I still regret having to split my time.Read the original article on Business Insider