In my tribute to Dad’s Week I revist one that is mixed with pain for me. It’s about being the sandwich generation.  Never made more clear to me than when I took my Dad and my stepson to a movie.  I picked Iron Man for Oliver, but had to follow my Dad out of the theater when he went to the bathroom, lest he get lost.  He did.  Or when I had to skip a visit to my Dad, which made me feel so guilty, because Rex had a fever.

Problems I still wish I had.  I don’t know if any adult child feels like they do enough for an ailing parent. Except for the ones that become full time caregivers, which I know was not in my wheelhouse. Feeling less sandwiched now, but a pat on the back to those who feeling like a meat filling.