Nothing highlights the generation gap quite like when I, a boomer, stay with the adult children in my life
Each millennial child confounds us in their unique ways
This First Person column is written by Janet Sanford, who lives in Moncton. For more information about First Person stories, see the FAQ.
Let me begin by saying that the adult children in my life are wonderful people. I love them madly, I am deeply proud of them, but they drive me crazy. I don't like admitting to the latter. I came of age in the 1960s — in an era that advocated for change and urged: "Do your own thing." But now I seem to embrace: "Why don't you do things the way we did?"
Adult Child No. 1 and her husband are environmentally conscious and endeavour to produce minimal waste. Good. I am all for this — until I come to visit. It's astonishing how much I miss having paper towels. I long for soap in a pump as I try to lather up with a bar of artisanal handmade soap that is as hard as a concrete block.
My husband and I often visit this child in March, when returning from sunny climes. At this time of year, the house is taken over by seedlings that are given priority for any sunny space. It is a challenge to find a warm place to sit. But on an especially nice day, the seedlings are all moved outside. This takes some time and the house is flooded with cold air.
Then, just when the furnace has kicked in long enough to warm the house again — whoosh! The patio doors are opened wide and the seedlings are brought in again. Apparently it's too cold for them now. Never mind the visiting parents.
The challenges of staying with Adult Child No. 2 and his wife are another matter. Their house is a minefield of gadgets we don't understand. Take the coffee maker. It is enormous and has a bewildering array of levers, gauges, dials and spouts. Is this what it takes to make a cup of coffee nowadays?
We are equally mystified by the smart TV and its three remotes, the toaster with its 30 different settings and the talking doorbell. But worst of all is the alarm system. I sometimes have to let our elderly dog out during the night, so at bedtime, I'm given the code and instructions for disabling the alarm. But I can't sleep. I spend the night willing the dog not to stir. I fear setting off the alarm system far more than I fear encountering an intruder.
Adult Child No. 3 and her husband have three children and visiting them is a wild ride. The scope of this family's interests and pursuits would rival that of a Renaissance man. After school and work, everyone rushes off to practices, games, meetings, tryouts and sporting events. It takes the skill and precision of an air traffic controller to co-ordinate all the arrivals and departures.
It would be nice if we all sat down together for a family dinner, but no one stays home anymore. Between the hours of 4 and 8 p.m., family members come and go from their activities. I pitch in as a short-order cook and serve up such delicacies as chicken fingers, pasta with ketchup and tater tots.
This lifestyle means that kitchen duty is never over. Just as the last counter is wiped and the last dish is put away, the round of bedtime snacks begins.
Four human beings and one small dog live in the home of Adult Child No. 4. My husband and I are lifelong dog owners, and all our dogs have had wonderful lives.
But this family has taken dog ownership to new heights. In addition to regular expenditures for vet and groomer visits, this dog has a toy subscription. Yes, that is a thing. Every month a box is delivered to him containing a variety of stuffed animals, treats and rubber toys.
Apparently, he also has a sensitive stomach and requires a special diet. The label of his dog food reads: "Wild-caught salmon with pumpkin, grain-free and fortified with chelated minerals." I can only presume that the price per pound equals that of a premium roast.
Despite having several plush dog beds around the house, the dog wants to sleep with us at night. Of course, we acquiesce. A fully carpeted doggie staircase is then brought into our room and wedged between the wall and the side of the bed so the dog can easily get on or off the bed.
But it's not so easy for us to navigate around. My husband climbs over me in the night when he wants to go to the bathroom, forgets the doggie staircase is blocking his side of the bed upon returning and falls headlong into the closet, waking the entire household, but not the dog.
We try to keep all our family visits to my daughter, niece and two nephews brief — two or three nights at most. When we say goodbye, there are prolonged hugs and many thank yous.
On the long drive home, my husband and I discuss our visit and wonder how the lives and habits of these children are so different from ours. Why do they do this and not that? It's not how we did things.
But as we chat about the highlights and challenges of our recent visit, I'm uncomfortably aware that the children are probably having a similar conversation about us.
No doubt they are discussing what drives them crazy — our frequent requests to turn up the heat, our seeming inability to work the TV, our "helpful" suggestions about how to do things.
One thing is certain: Time passes and things change, but the generation gap endures. We baby boomers will continue to do things our own way. And so will our millennial children.
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