By: Marguerite Ashton
My experience last year was an eye opener as to what not to do when you’re relocating your parents. As a crime writer, I know how important it is to do your research. I started searching for homes, and did extensive research involving crime rates, drive time to the nearest hospitals, among other things. What I didn’t count on was humidity being an irritant to Mom’s condition.
In my last post, Are We There Yet Part 1 – I talked about what happened to Mom and how she ended up living with my family and I in Wisconsin.
In some ways it was a neat learning experience, at the same time it was challenging to both understand and adjust to the whirlwind of events, changes and scary moments that had befallen our family.
At one point – during the month of August, we felt it was Friday the 13th every day of the month. I know, not everyone believes in the whole “Friday the 13th” bit, but that month we could have filmed a reality series titled Bad Luck in the Ashton Household.
It was a crazy time. Yet, without being asked, my three older children stepped up to the plate to help make sure that all of the family members had what they needed. Especially, when it came to their grandparents. Besides seeing them graduate, I couldn’t have been more proud.
A month later my hubby went to go get dad and bring him back up here so that he could be with mom. Aha, but wait, there’s more. Soon we were all hit with the ultimate test of all tests when families expand.
Here you have two separate households, with two different ideas on how a household should be run. Not only that, Mom worked to adjust to no longer being able to do what she loved. For the last thirty years, she got up every morning and drove to her job. She enjoyed being useful and productive.
Can you imagine what that felt like for her? I'm not quite sure what it was like, but during one of our many mother/daughter talks, she stated that it wasn't easy.
My heart ached for Mom.
Knowing that this was going to be a difficult adjustment for mom, I tried to brace myself and avoided getting in her way.
In the span of seven months, Mom had to transition from being fiercely independent to living with her daughter and son-in-law.
We were officially in what one would call the Sandwich Generation.
The kids were happy that they had their grandparents to spoil them rotten, while the four adults took on the heavy task of the inevitable.
It was time to relocate and find a home with a tad more space.
*The final post for Are We There Yet will be posted in two weeks.
My experience last year was an eye opener as to what not to do when you’re relocating your parents. As a crime writer, I know how important it is to do your research. I started searching for homes, and did extensive research involving crime rates, drive time to the nearest hospitals, among other things. What I didn’t count on was humidity being an irritant to Mom’s condition.
In my last post, Are We There Yet Part 1 – I talked about what happened to Mom and how she ended up living with my family and I in Wisconsin.
In some ways it was a neat learning experience, at the same time it was challenging to both understand and adjust to the whirlwind of events, changes and scary moments that had befallen our family.
At one point – during the month of August, we felt it was Friday the 13th every day of the month. I know, not everyone believes in the whole “Friday the 13th” bit, but that month we could have filmed a reality series titled Bad Luck in the Ashton Household.
It was a crazy time. Yet, without being asked, my three older children stepped up to the plate to help make sure that all of the family members had what they needed. Especially, when it came to their grandparents. Besides seeing them graduate, I couldn’t have been more proud.
A month later my hubby went to go get dad and bring him back up here so that he could be with mom. Aha, but wait, there’s more. Soon we were all hit with the ultimate test of all tests when families expand.
Here you have two separate households, with two different ideas on how a household should be run. Not only that, Mom worked to adjust to no longer being able to do what she loved. For the last thirty years, she got up every morning and drove to her job. She enjoyed being useful and productive.
Can you imagine what that felt like for her? I'm not quite sure what it was like, but during one of our many mother/daughter talks, she stated that it wasn't easy.
My heart ached for Mom.
Knowing that this was going to be a difficult adjustment for mom, I tried to brace myself and avoided getting in her way.
In the span of seven months, Mom had to transition from being fiercely independent to living with her daughter and son-in-law.
We were officially in what one would call the Sandwich Generation.
The kids were happy that they had their grandparents to spoil them rotten, while the four adults took on the heavy task of the inevitable.
It was time to relocate and find a home with a tad more space.
*The final post for Are We There Yet will be posted in two weeks.