I
“Mom, how would you like to come and live with us?”
I had become more and more concerned over the frequency of my eighty-three-year-old mother’s falls and long distance from our help. Our family couldn’t afford to provide assisted living services for her, so I was thankful she chose to accept my invitation.
What she entered into formed a sandwich generation with herself forming the top bread slice, while my son’s family was the bottom slice. In between the two, my husband and I took the role of the bologna. Our grandson represented the lettuce and my son’s older son the pickle.
Financial challenges had created this situation where four generations cohabited. Mom had to adjust from living alone to sharing space with four other adults plus an active three-year-old. We also had an older grandson who visited at least several days a week. This arrangement lasted for almost a year during Mom’s time with us.
As the main caregiver, I stretched to meet the assorted needs of my varied household. My semi-retired husband with health issues helped with transportation of our oldest visiting grandson, Domanic, and watched and napped with our younger grandson, Gavin.
“Grammie,” my mother, helped out in any way she could with clothes-folding and table-setting. Despite her poor vision and balance, she made a frequent playmate for Gavin when the other grown-ups dealt with boring things like the paper, work or a clean house.
I caught Grammie playing a deputy to Gavin’s role as sheriff while they rounded up some bad guys and put them in jail. Mom kept a lid on the amount of 
violence that Gavin acted out on ‘perpetrators,’ such as chairs or stuffed animals. These “perps” would be whacked with light sabers, or soundly pounded. I had to persuade Gavin that his deputy needed a coffee break so she could catch her breath. But she loved it!
Gavin’s nap time became a cherished breather for her to watch TV reruns of “Seventh Heaven” or “Little House on the Prairie” in relative peace. But, as soon as he awakened from his nap, she warmly greeted Gavin and offered to change the channel to something more kid friendly. Or at times he would ask, “Want to play, Grammie?”
Mom lived with us for four years. It’s hard to say how her life would have compared with an assisted-living resident, but I’d like to think that she proved a more engaged octogenarian, interacting with her generations and still feeling a vital part of the family. In addition, she brought a wealth of gentle wisdom and sweet spirit to our multi-generational home that we all treasured, and that the younger members enjoyed most of all.
Dianna
Sharing the Fruit of Maturity
