The Mid Years: Caught in Life's Beautiful Squeeze

Our Families & Parents (Plus an extra Sis, Niece & 2 Bros)

You know that moment when you're helping your kid with math homework while simultaneously getting a call from your dad about how to update his phone? That's mid-life for you, stretched between generations, trying to remember if it's a fraction or a decimal while explaining that yes, Dad, you need to actually click "Install" for the update to work. We're both living this reality, just with different ringtones.

Growing up in a large family—our dad being one of fourteen siblings—we thought we understood the circle of life. But nothing really prepares you for watching your parents age. Our dad's family has already lost one sister, Tante Bert (bless her beautiful soul), and each farewell hits differently now. When you're young, death feels abstract. Now, every family gathering glows with new significance, each story a treasure, every shared meal a gift.

We've naturally fallen into our roles: one of us handles the tech support calls from Dad, while the other helps Mom navigate her digital photo archives. Between us, we've become our parents' personal IT department, though we're pretty sure neither of us put that on our resumes.

Then there's our younger brother, Isaiah, with down syndrome, whose infectious laugh and boundless enthusiasm illuminate our family gatherings. His presence brings a special kind of magic that makes you pause and savor the simple moments: his genuine delight during family dinners, those spontaneous hugs that brighten any dark day, and his pure, unfiltered way of loving that reminds us all to embrace the present.

Amanda's boys & their uncle, Isaiah (to the right).

Our unique family dynamic shapes how we experience time. While others might focus solely on their own households, our journey includes guiding our brother toward adulthood while raising our own children. He's become an unexpected teacher to our kids, showing them the true meaning of acceptance and unconditional love.

Time plays tricks in these middle years. It races when you're watching your children outgrow their shoes (again) and crawls during late-night worry sessions about our parents. We catch ourselves studying Dad with the grandkids, noting how he comes alive sharing stories about growing up amongst thirteen siblings. The memories flow more freely now, as if he senses these tales are precious heirlooms waiting to be passed down. His stories of sharing rooms and clothes, reveal how those experiences shaped him into the father and grandfather he is today.

Our brother has an uncanny gift for diffusing family tension with perfectly timed humor. While we navigate the complex choreography of adult relationships, he demonstrates the beauty of straightforward affection. His presence transforms ordinary moments into celebrations, reminding us to find joy in life's simple pleasures.

The view from the middle offers fresh perspectives on our parents. We notice the gentle shift in Dad's voice when he speaks of his family now, or how Mom's eyes sparkle at her sister's phone calls. Through all their differences and shared history, they always find their way back to common ground. Watching their bond has taught us volumes about our own sisterhood, what traditions to carry forward and which patterns to gently leave behind. It's all thread in the rich tapestry of our shared lives.

Each generation receives different gifts. Some grandchildren inherit Dad's storytelling prowess, others master Mom's cooking secrets (some recipes staying firmly in the "family vault" to maintain sisterly peace). But watching our children's relationship with their uncle reveals something extraordinary, lessons about love and acceptance that transcend any curriculum.

Our position at the family's center might look daunting from the outside. Yet it's become our cherished normal. A beautiful mosaic of responsibilities and joy. Between managing our daily responsibilities and caring for everyone around us, Isaiah reminds us to dance in the kitchen, to laugh at bad jokes, to celebrate the small victories that actually turn out to be the big ones.

These years are simultaneously tender and tough, precious and demanding. We're watching our parents embrace great-grandparenthood while we're still decoding the mysteries of raising our own children. We've become the bridge spanning generations—the ones who remember life before smartphones but can explain TikTok to both our kids and our parents.

Sometimes, while sorting through old family photos, we pause at images of our parents when they were our age. It's a strange mirror... seeing them caught in their own middle years, looking so composed, so sure of themselves. The thing is, nobody ever has it figured out. Those pictures of our younger years show our parents at the same age we are now, when we thought they had all the answers. Turns out they were just like us—making it up as they went along, doing their best to bridge their own generational gaps, probably hiding in their own bathroom for moments of peace.

P.S. If you're reading this while hiding in the bathroom for five minutes of peace between algebra equations and Zoom troubleshooting... we see you. We've got this. Sort of.

P.P.S. And if you just ended an hour-long sibling call that left you laughing through your frustration... well, that's family for you. Wouldn't have it any other way. (Most days, anyway.)

P.P.P.S. And if you've witnessed your teenager's dramatic moment dissolve into laughter thanks to a perfectly timed silly face... you know exactly the kind of magic we're talking about.