Sandwiched but Strong - sort of

Last night I had a dream. I was all alone in the house, fixing myself dinner and picking up after the kids. No big deal, just relaxing and enjoying an evening alone.

All of a sudden, a mass of bad guys began breaking in – coming in through windows and doors, on both floors, all at the same time. The bad guys were breaking apart handrails and furniture, pulling out any metal pieces (thanks, media folks, for those story on druggies stealing metals for drug money…).

I’m tackling the bad guys right and left and then – the phone rings.

I stop what I’m doing, pick up the phone, and it’s my mom.

“Hi mom,” I say.

“Hi.” She replies. “I just wanted to talk with you about some things,” she says with a quiver in her voice.

“I’ll call you back a little later, Mom, OK?” I say, and hang up the phone to go back to fighting the bad guys.

About then I woke up and thought, “Wow, if that doesn’t exactly express how the person stuck in that ‘sandwich generation’ feels!”

It’s not like the visual of nice comfort food between two yummy slices of bread.

It’s more like beating off the “bad guys” (work, kid worries, money – you probably have your own list) on the one hand, and pausing – just for a second – to be there for the parent, knowing that you’ve got to get back to those pressing issues – NOW – but your parent still needs you…and so it goes.

My favorite part of the dream was the fact that I, single-handedly, fought off all the bad guys.

It was probably because of the one little thing I forgot to mention – the red “Supermom” cape I happened to be wearing that evening.

Know where I can order one in real life?