I'm a stuck in a whole bunch of sandwiches of life

My mother is in the throes of COPD and lung cancer after over 70 years of smoking. It's a scary time for her, and for me, too. My father passed away 16 years ago, my middle sister 9 years ago, and my oldest sister and I live such disparate lives that we rarely speak and certainly do not really know each other. I live half way across the country from my mother, I just went up there last month to help her with a procedure and will be up there again this month when she has another procedure done. I suspect that I will be traipsing up there again at least a couple of times this year; that is, if she survives for more than a couple of months. She's strong and a fighter but I am afraid the fight may be taking her last bits of strength. She will become tired of fighting soon, it's just a matter of when she decides that it's all too much and wants to give up. Meanwhile, she is coping with just trying to get through every day while facing certain death. I wish I could help her more than I can, and wish I could help more than she would even allow me to do.

My 29 year old son still lives with my husband and me. He has a job, which pays contract wages, sometimes, but he says he loves this job and it's the first one he's ever loved. I just wish it paid enough for him to pay his bills, live independently, have health insurance, and be able to enjoy a few luxuries and save a bit. He's home a lot, especially during the week, but he mows the lawn and vacuum/mops the floors and clean the bathrooms - when I whine about it. His particular sense of household cleanliness doesn't have the same sense of urgency as mine. My usual method of operation is to start talking about a house cleaning a week ahead, telling him that I am having friends over for dinner and that it would be nice if the house was, well, clean? and the front yard looked inviting?  I admit, it is nice having someone around when hubby is gone, and I do enjoy the company as he is a good roomie, but I can't always count on that - he does have a social life, thank goodness. I have told him that he is going to have to move out before his 30th birthday. I don't want to have a 30 year old man living with me....unless he's my husband or my boyfriend.

My husband is employed by a very good company that pays him well and provides excellent benefits for both of us. That's the upside. The downside is that he has to travel 3 weeks out of 4, and the travel is exclusively to Mexico - Mexico City, Guadalajara, Monterrey. He's tired of business travel, packing on Sunday, flying out, hotels, packing up to leave, restaurant food, all of it.  He's also tired of traveling exclusively to Mexico, it's become a scary place, even though he is completely familiar with those 3 cities, his clients and the places that he frequents.  We both love to travel to foreign places, but business travel just isn't the same as leisure travel. You have to be somewhere all the time, you have to look good, you have to be prepared and pleasant. All in all, I think he'd rather be traveling to Paris or Toronto, but he's fluent in Spanish and good at international sales, so for right now, his job provides the majority of our income.

Since I left my last full time job in May 2010, I have had a lot of time to think about whether that was the correct decision, and whether or not I want to go back to work full time. Hubby says, just enjoy it while you can, but secretly, I wonder if he is jealous of my free time and the fact that I don't have to get dressed every day. And that I don't have to be somewhere most of the time. If the tables were turned, I would be jealous! However, I am busier now than when I was employed. I have 3 part time jobs that pay significantly less than when I had one job but since I am at home all the time, I do everything related to the household: bills, taxes, cars, insurance, schedules, appointments, vacation planning, house fixing, cleaning, shopping, cooking, laundry, dishes, etc. Whew! I get a lot done in my nightgown and housecoat.

Truthfully, I am grateful that I have someone supporting me right now (although I do have a bit of income coming in from my 3 part time endeavors to support my shopping vices) and that I am able to drop everything immediately, if need be, and fly up to help my mother. I wouldn't be able to do that if I was working a full time job. And if I did have a full time job that I was able to leave whenever I wanted, I would at the very least feel guilty when I dropped everything to go. So maybe the stars are aligned for me right now, and maybe this is where I need to be and maybe I am doing what I need to do right now. I suppose I should be content?

Here's the crux of my dilemmas:

I'm sandwiched between wanting the gratification (and pay and stimulation) of a full time job and needing to be able to go at a moment's notice.

I'm sandwiched between the guilt of being able to luxuriate at home for as long as I want and wanting  to spend the money that my husband slaves so hard to provide for us.

I'm sandwiched between needing to kick my son out on his own for his own good and wanting to keep him close to home so I can enjoy his company.

I'm sandwiched between wanting to fly the coop and leave all my cares behind - retire with hubby to a far away place with a slower pace - and needing to be somewhat close to my mother (for the time being, anyway) and even closer to my children, whom I love and like and would miss dreadfully if I didn't see them at least weekly.

I'm sandwiched between being too young to retire and too old to start something new.

All in all, sandwiches are NOT my favorite food right now. I'd rather be an empanada, rich inside and cocooned by an outer shell that's not too hard to break.

Back to work...maybe~

Having had a few mini vacations, one to Tucson to watch the fireworks in the desert after the monsoon, and one to help take care of my ailing mother, I'm back to work. Sort of.

I am having a very difficult time getting back into the swing of things. Is this what is called writer's block?We arrived home late Tuesday the 5th and while I had every intention of writing and doing a lot of work on Wednesday & Thursday, it's now Friday. I've piddled around and read all my emails and Facebook comments from my friends but I haven't done anything that can be considered paid labor. Unless you count making dinner for myself and my employed husband and then doing the dishes and laundry, which of course somebody has to do!

I paid a few bills, upgraded my phone at the Sprint store (see my pretty new purple fone in the picture!), helped a client with 3 very old whole life insurance policies, went to an H & R Block tax meeting, talked to my friends, took the car to the tire shop to remove a nail from it, drove my daughter's foreign exchange student to school, watered the plants on the patio, went shopping, mailed a few things, and that's about it. The sum total of 2 and a half days.

Why is working from home take so much discipline? Is it because the whole house screams at you:  clean me, wash me, fix me, eat me. I hate "fixed" schedules, even when I worked in an office. I always preferred getting in early or staying late when needed so that if needed, I could cut out for a few hours either in the middle of the day or in the afternoon and still manage to get all the work done. Now, if I don't start, nothing gets done, but no one, really, is awaiting me. Well, my publisher is waiting for me to finish my latest assignment - but apparently the "deadline", which came and went on the first of June is not really "dead" and according to Nick, I can keep writing more pieces, if I want.

Maybe I'm just tired of the assignment and bored and ready to start a new project? Or maybe I just need to discipline myself, buckle down, and get going.

My goal now: 2 to 3 articles every day until we leave on our next vacation. I hope I manage to keep the ball rolling!

My Daddy, the best dad there ever was

My Dad was the best dad ever, in my humble opinion. He was the first boy who hugged me and told me I was special. Then he continued to hug me and tell me he loved me and still thought I was special as I got older, until the day he passed away.

Daddy was always interested in what I had to say or do. When I wanted to learn how to ski, he researched the ski and boots market and found me the best skis, poles, boots, ski jacket and pants that his little budget could afford. When my mother refused to go to the movies, he and I started "movie night" where the 2 of us would go to the movies together, eat candy bars and drink Coca-Cola (which m mother never allowed in the house) and then discuss the movies together on the way home. I still remember seeing "Zhivago" and "Lawrence of Arabia" with him. I was around 12 years old, but somehow he thought I was old enough to see adult movies.

He never let on to me that the world might impose any limitations on me, not because of being a female growing up in the 60's and 70's, nor because maybe I might not be able to hack it. He had great confidence in me, much more than I had myself, growing up. Whenever I think I might not be able to hack it, I try to remember my dad's faith in me, and how he thought his greatest accomplishments were the daughters that he raised.

My only regrets are that sometimes we all didn't live up to what he wanted for us all the time. And I regret that he didn't live to see my children grow up to be fabulous people on their own. He loved his grandchildren so much, and loved spending time with them. Once he told me that I was too hard on one of my kids. I replied that he would never have let me do what he was telling me that I should let slide. "Yeah, well. Maybe I was too hard on you kids", was his reply. He really wasn't.  Most of the time, his discipline was a harsh look and a comment that he was "disappointed" in me. All this makes me realize that what I do remember is how much he loved me, not how much he disciplined me.

Parents are never perfect, and kids, unfortunately, don't come with a simple How-to Manual. I'm sure he felt he made mistakes, and I'm sure that I've made mistakes, too. But I remember him with great fondness, and much love.

And that's how I want my own children to remember me when I'm gone. I want them to remember me just like I remember my dad -- I want them to know how much I love them, just like how much I knew he loved me, just as I am.