Despite loving a good snow storm that shuts everything down, I have now joined the group of Northeast dwelling sufferers of SAD — Seasonal Affective Disorder. It is simply too white and gray out there.  One snow day was perfect; the added bonus of many, a tad bit too much.

When offered the choice of “fight” or “flight” recently, I didn’t even have to think about it – I resolved to get out of town as soon as I could. Either that or dig a hole like the one that Punxsatawney Phil, the groundhog, lives in and retreats for another several weeks. Both pose problems, however, namely the fact that as moms or caretakers it means we will now need to oversee and supervise (micro-manage?) from remote locations.  But thanks to cell phones and computers, this is all just a button away.

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I have officially entered the sandwich generation, a member of the boomer generation blessed with the dubious distinction of simultaneously caring for an aging parent while still having children at home in need of parental assistance with homework. 

My sandwich is also a club sandwich with a layer of adult children as well. Does that mean I can request that it be gourmet instead of bologna slapped on white with a piece of American added for good measure? Please? Please can I make it gourmet, otherwise I might not make it…fifth grade homework and new math are killing me, teenage girl drama is still painful second hand, online gambling and overdrawn bank accounts, a son finally negotiating his way but it took a DUI to get him to that point, and now my mom providing the top layer.

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I am a neat freak. My husband is not. You would think that we would have had at least a one in four chance of producing one child who took after me. Unfortunately, this is not the case. All four of my kids are, well, untidy, a kinder gentler way of saying “slobs.” They don’t care, but I do!

I am alone in fighting this battle because my husband doesn’t even notice there is a problem. He is “untidy” also. Recently my younger daughter and I were away for ten days, leaving my older daughter and husband to fend for themselves.

I am surprised the house wasn’t condemned while we were away.

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When I was first started as a parent blogger for EP, it was suggested that I look at parenting from a “Dad’s” point of view. Funny, in all the years I’ve been parenting, I never considered my point of view being other than just a parents’ viewpoint.You see, for a period of five and one half years, I was a single parent of three children, Frank III, Louis (Lou), and Dominica (Mini). When I became a full-time single parent, they were ten, eight, and seven.

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