Slap Bang in the Middle of Middle Age

Slap Bang in the Middle of Middle Age
A day in the life of…. A day of extreme opposites, of present realities. 

 It's no secret that I am the besotted gramma of five treasures. 

 My house, or for accuracy's sake, my apartment, is geared towards these treasures.

 I have a toy corner, and toys.
 Clothes for five ages, diapers in two sizes, strollers, a twin stroller ( more explanation on that another time), and a bunch of other grandkids stuff. 

 That will definitely be the subject of another post :) 

 My car - is pretty much the same. It looks like the municipal garbage dump, but that is besides the point. 

 The back seat is completely taken up by one rear facing infant car seat, and a front facing upholstered booster car seat. The baby seat is anchored down, with isofix and stabilizers and stuff I don't know how to pronounce - and is immovable. 
The booster seat can be uninstalled and reinstalled pretty easily if needed ( like to put an adult human being in there instead of a small child). 

 In between these two seats is just enough squeeze space for a few blankies, and some toys. 

 So essentially, on any given day there is space in my car for me, the driver, and an adult passenger next to me, and two kids in the back. 

 The other end of the spectrum - my other identity - is that of a daughter. 

 My elderly mother of 84, suffered a stroke ( or two) about five years ago, resulting in weakness down one side of her body and since then she is in a wheelchair. 
 She has an angel in disguise in the form of a caregiver who lives with her, and takes care of her round the clock. 

 So, whenever I need to take my mom to the doctor, or an appointment, our angel carer comes along, as does the “mom paraphernalia” - wheelchair, walker, bags, and other stuff she might need. 

 My Gramma schedule - fetch the first round of grandkids, strap them in, stroller in the trunk, diaper bag in the trunk, school bags on the floor - off we go. 

 My Mom day schedule - take out the booster car seat and take it upstairs. Put away the "grandma me" and take out the "daughter me". 
 Make space in the car now for the wheelchair, the walker, the bags, the caregiver, and my mother. 

 Now I understand why it's called middle age – there you are – stuck right in the middle of this weird identity split – from the child who used to be taken to the doctor by this same mother, to the daughter/parent now doing that for the mother/child. 

 And then – there's the grandma role – how I thank the universe for that piece of pure pleasure, that sanity. 

 The mess, the joy, the smeared food and the crumbs…… 
 As I said, slap bang in the middle.

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