And They All Rolled Over - Essay 3 Draft

Fingers that are not mine jab my eye and pry my eyelid open. Shock, the sudden sensation of being ripped from sleep. "Are you awake Gramma Pat?" Inside my brain a litany of sarcastic comebacks spew unbidden. On the outside, I smile at the little person beside me beaming with expectation. "Yeah sweetie,want some cheermos"? I tell myself that I'll fix eggs after I have my coffee, but cheerios are a quick and welcome stall. I roll out of the futon. For a moment I assess the possibility of getting right back to bed. I give up that thought and fold my sleeping area up for the day. Little Guy promptly plants himself down on it. Little Girl has slipped in and joins him. " Can we do a project ,Gramma Pat?" pipes Little Girl. "We'll see" and so the day begins with the phrase I'll repeat ad infintum. On my way to the kitchen ,Little Girl half shouts that Baby is up. Indeed she is. I meet my daughter in the kitchen, Baby in one arm , cereal box in the other hand. Peripherally, I see Bigger Girl slip stealthily into the bathroom to score a shower before the morning restroom crunch. She knows in fifteen minutes the bathroom will be a hub of
activity. My son-in-law made us bacon before he went to work. Our home smells wonderful.


Six months earlier we were all in our respective homes living the expected American life. I had a home, a husband, a dog. My youngest daughter was planning her wedding. My middle daughter and her husband had Little Guy, jobs, a home and Baby-on-the-Way. Little and Bigger Girl lived with their mom and dad. A phone call. Our ideas and expectations about home and family changed drastically. Bigger Girl was at school. Little Girl was rescued by the fireman. The fire took their home and their mother. We grieved mother, daughter, sister, lover, friend, mentor. We were all lost.

Little and Bigger Girl's dad became unable to care for them. My marriage crashed and I had no place to go. My daughter and son-in-law, expecting their second child, had planned to expand their family in the usual increments with a reasonable amount of privacy.Their household would explode from three to seven people in a matter of months.One of those people was me. Although I was grateful for their sacrifice, moving in with my children in my mid 50's was a blow to my ego. Western culture and thought prizes independence , rather than interdependence. Vocational, social and health care networks are designed around the nuclear family.

Their house took such a hit. Aunts, uncles, dad, friends, all wielded hammers and sheet rock and paint. Overnight the dining room became a bedroom. The once packed storage room became a bedroom/nursery complete with a castle painted on the wall. The garage filled up and scooted the car out. My futon was wedged in the computer room midst more boxes. I consolidated my needs to a shelf for clothes, a half a shelf of books, a tote for the still working- on- funeral business and a doll cradle of photos and mementos. The bathrooms and laundry room were at capacity with potty chairs and bedding. Our blended family and friends were a huge help and support. Several days a week the double air mattress filled the remaining living room space during their visits. The children were phenomenal in rolling with the flow.

We worked around our schedules and the children's schedules. There was daycare time, work time and school time. The yellow buses stopped in the driveway with regularity, dropping off and picking up. The women who drove the buses became my daytime adult contacts. Evening and weekend visits from our various family and friends were collective socialization. My friends visited in the context of my children and grandchildren and I was a presence to my children's and grandchildren friends and family. There was no hiding or withdrawing. There was no room and it would be too obviously rude. Flexibility was an absolute requirement. This communal living would have been disastrous if any one of us insisted on an individual right to the remote control.Instant dressing was a well practiced art. Reading was limited to bedtime stories or brief snippets with earplugs in place. Privacy and autonomy were difficult to hang on to. Sometimes I packed a bag and stayed overnight at a friends or went to my youngest daughters up North. I tried to keep working a graveyard job to keep some financial independence and maintain health benefits. I was drained . The kids needed someone home for the summer. I quit my job to help with the kids full time. Shortly thereafter I was hospitalized. The neighbor stepped up helped out with the children.

At some point I moved away from the sense of entitlement, self-pity and embarrasment that
made adjustment more difficult than it needed to be. There are a variety of practical reasons that adult children move or live at home,that senior parents move in with adult children or other communal arrangements. I stopped judging. Accepting the reality of what was , freed me to embrace and enjoy our home and what Little Guy refered to as "our big, big family" . Health insurance, however, was a lingering concern . As with other untraditional living situations health insurance does not accomadate dependent extended family . Although I am relatively healthy, the hospital stay was a reminder of the importance of health benefits. Work provides me health benefits. I feel this is a conscious responsibility to my family.


I found work in another town and commuted between daughters for awhile. Then I made the move to my own apartment and furnished it complete with a dog. I miss folding sheets with a child at each corner singing The Wonderpet's theme song,"Teamwork". But, I love sleeping in my own bed. I miss the ready availability of hugs. But, I love the silence. I miss the camaraderie.But, I love my freedom. Most of my adult life the feeling of home has eluded me. After living out of a suitcase , in other peoples lives, I finally found what home is for me. It's a comfortable place inside me. , wherever I might be. In many ways, I am grateful for this experience. It was a time our family and friends can be proud of . When we all rolled over, none of us really fell out.