I've been a proud member of the sandwich generation since 1991. And while I love sandwiches as much as the next guy (tell me if you can walk by a Subway when they are baking that bread and not suddenly feel hungry enough to eat anything in sight), I'm finding that being part of the sandwich generation is less about the yummy food and more about the stress.

I don't like stress.
As usual, I do find plenty to observe and wonder over as a part of this experience. Yesterday, I believe the theme of the day was "Showing Debbie how both pieces of the bread are always the same". I'll explain.
For my youngest son, yesterday was braces day. As a family, we have been through this three times before. I knew to encourage him to eat his hard, sticky, and chewy Halloween candy first and save the soft things for last. And yes, as a certified chip off the old block, he asked for Doritoes for the weeks leading up to yesterday. Our orthodontist has a no chip that ends in "o's" policy. Which, when you think about it, cuts out most of the good stuff. Poor kid. Anyway, we tried to prepare him as best we could.

As we were pulling into the driveway from the orthodontist, my mom and step-father were pulling in behind us. My mother is fairly young and very considerate of any parenting efforts I might be making, no matter how goofy they probably appear. My step-father, let's just say he is much older and doesn't hesitate to speak his mind. They had brought a nice bag of candy to each of my two boys. Sadly, some of the candy was on my son's "don't eat" list. Including gummy candy.

Here's where life gets interesting and almost like watching a tennis match as my head snaps back and forth between my young person and my old person. Who apparently see things from the same perspective.
"No", I tell the young person. "You may not eat the gummy candy. It is on your list of forbidden foods. Go look at the list."
He does. Then proceeds to tell me he can eat those because gummy
bears are on the forbidden list but it did not mention gummy
brains. I was able to convince him shortly that all gummies were in fact created equal and all were forbidden.
To which my step-father replies, "Well, eat one and try it."
Snap goes the head. Open drops my jaw. Had he not heard the entire conversation that had taken place 6 feet in front of him? Of course he had. But, at this stage in the game, he is more about the sweet treat at the end than even my son is. Finally, I had to resort to telling him that this little teeth straightening experience was costing us $4300 and I'd rather not test something expensive enough to transport my family over a small, gummy candy.
Pouting from both sides of the room.

This lovely experience was soon followed by a phone call from my college freshman son informing me that he had joined the school rugby team (and had taken his $5000 mouth to join as well) and was loving the whole experience. But, I was not to worry. Although his job was to be tackled, he was not in the dangerous position. That position being one where the coach told them to push against the other team's sternum until they heard a crunch. Uh huh.
And I gave birth to that person. I watched over him and fretted and worried and here is where I am today.

I had just hung the phone up from him when my father calls to tell me he is limping around.
Because he fell off his roof. He climbed up there to blow off the leaves. And after he fell off the roof, he took the ladder around to the other side of the house and climbed right back up. (Yes, he is in his 70s). When I admonished him and begged him to find someone else to do that sort of thing, he informed me he had to be active and was not just going to sit around.

I'm thinking we need to start grandfather/grandson rugby teams. We can have other grandfather/grandson teams to sell candy in the concession stands.
We'd also need a lovely little wine vendor for the poor sandwich women like me.