Living Happily Ever After
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More Embarrassing Than…

Date: August 1, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Lost a planet Master Obi-Wan has. How embarrassing.” (Yoda)

I took 5 kids to see my husband’s dress rehearsal for “The Sound of Music” at Sundance resort the other night.

It was the first time my youngest has ever seen this daddy on stage. He was thrilled with each and every appearance. (My husband plays the butler, so there were quite a few entrances to catch my son’s attention!) Pretty soon it became apparent that my youngest was only interested in the show when he got to see his daddy on the stage; and eventually, after one small tantrum, and finishing the licorice Nibs he chose at intermission, he fell asleep.

Sadly, he slept through the best part—the part where my husband has abandoned the tuxedo-wearing butler role—and comes out, instead, in embroidered leiderhosen and knee socks, bowing over and over again, as the 3rd place winner in the music festival the Von Trapp family singers perform at and then escape from. (If I’m not mistaken, and based on the audience’s roaring laughter, that moment may have stolen the show!)

The most entertaining part of that moment for me, however, was NOT what was taking place on stage. It was looking at the row of kids beside me and their reaction. They were uproariously laughing and totally enjoying the sight. I’ll never forget my oldest son, laughing and shaking his head, looking at me with tears coming out of his eyes, at his stepdad’s lack of inhibition. (By the way, that is one of the things I love about my husband—he is always willing to do unexpected, crazy things, on or off the stage, in the name of entertainment, and especially to make people laugh. I have some special memories of those attempts, let me tell you, most of which cannot be publicly shared or he might be tempted to quit them altogether to preserve his reputation!)

In that moment, however, everyone was entertained. Everyone except for one. My stepson.

He sat there in shock, his jaw on the ground, disbelief masking his expression, at the sight of his dad. He shook his head in absolute mortification (he is a teenage boy, 13 years old, after all) and looked like he wanted to crawl under the bench! His embarrassment was so palpable, I reached over and gave his should a squeeze of reassurance as if to say, “It’s ok, you’re going to survive this moment.”

Because it’s my experience that the embarrassment eventually dims. The difficult becomes endurable. And then…you’re on to another adventure! That is life. (And the teens, isn’t it?)

However, as a parent who unknowingly and sometimes knowingly, I admit it, frequently embarrasses her children—like every time I dance—it was a priceless moment for so many reasons (not the least of which was the realization that I may have married my soulmate.)

‘I was always embarrassed because my dad wore a suit and my mother wore flat pumps and a cozy jumper while my friends’ parents were punks or hippies.’ (Shirley Manson)

The things parents do.

Apparently, there are things more embarrassing than losing a planet.:)

Over And Over And Over Again

Date: July 30, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I’ve missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I’ve lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I’ve been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.” (Michael Jordan)

I love this quote. I’ve raised my kids on it. It’s a reality in my life, as well as Michael Jordan’s. Because every life, especially the unexpected one, is comprised of more than its fair share of misses, losses and failures.

We each fail, in one way or another, over and over and over again in our lives; all of our lives.

So what do you do?

I think it’s what you choose to do with all of that failure that counts.

When we choose to keep rising from the ashes of failure and defeat, devastation and destruction, grief and pain and loss, THAT is success. And that “one more try, one last time” is very often the moment when success (finally!) comes.

And when we learn to find happiness and joy amidst it all, failure or success, THAT is when we have it made!

“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.” (Winston Churchill)

Progress

Date: July 29, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.” (George Bernard Shaw)

I’ve been remarried five months now. And as a parent and stepparent, how grateful I am for progress and change!

Progress since the wedding day one child cried through the love song the bridegroom sang to the bride; progress since another child told the bride their life had ended, their world was ruined, because of one wedding—mine.

We newlyweds returned from our honeymoon and went to work trying to effect some change, our sights set on progress, as parents blending families.

For example, I hug my kids each day as they depart for school. I added all children in the household (despite their initial lack of enthusiasm) to this daily tradition. And for the most part, it has worked. Only one day did one child treat me rudely, flat out refuse contact with me and departed for school with an air of hostility. (But in his and my defense, I wasn’t the only person he treated rudely, so I didn’t take it personally. I gave him some space that day. In fact, I believe that is key to parenting AND stepparenting: don’t take things personally, refuse to get offended; give the child some space “that” day, and try again tomorrow!)

Cut to present. Said child left town for two weeks to visit out-of-state family members. Prior to his return, I sent him an email, told him I had missed him and that I had a huge hug waiting for him when he came home. He arrived home, I said his name, he smiled at me, walked from behind his suitcase and toward me, opened his arms and…hugged me!

Soon after, that same child spent time with other family members. I didn’t see him for a few days but the next time I saw him I said, “Hey! You haven’t seen me for a few days, do you have something for me?” Give him credit for being a quick learner. (Either that, or he has given in (aka. given up! haha!) to my traditions; he smiled and hugged me.)

So…hope. Always hope. Hope for change. And see how you can effect it. Even in one tiny little thing.

Work for change. Remember that it’s possible to change any thing, any situation, with effort, work and time. (Very handy to remember in the unexpected life when certain situations, like 2009, or a new life, or a new job, or a health challenge, or a financial adversity, or taking on a new family would be overwhelming if you thought they were permanent!)

Look for progress. Seek to be positive and look for the good. Recognize every little baby step forward and be grateful for it—just don’t be surprised by the attendant slide backward despite the progress, either. It happens.

Keep your eye on the distant, long-term goal and don’t let yourself get overwhelmed by every single aspect and occurence of the journey required to get there!

Because, “If you’re walking down the right path and you’re willing to keep walking, eventually you’ll make progress.” (Barack Obama)

Especially in the unexpected life.

“Idiot” To Awesome…In 18 Years!

Date: July 28, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Any man can make mistakes, but only an idiot persists in his error.” (Marcus Tullius Cicero)

I’ve seen it over and over again in my life: when you live with someone, some adjusting and compromising is required for a happy home life. This is true for roommates, newlyweds, brothers and sisters, families and especially, blended families.

If you’re smart, you learn this natural law early and skip some of the strife failing to humble yourself and compromise with those you live with (and love) brings.

However, some accept change more willingly than others. Some adapt to the living arrangements more easily than others. Some seem more willing to compromise than others. And then there are a select few that seem to think if they resist long enough, if they refuse to compromise, said change (ie. life) will not be required!

Boy, wouldn’t that be nice? Like a cocktail party, to be served life on a platter prior to living it? To be able to say, “No thanks, I’ll not have some of that!” or “No thank you, I’ve had enough” or “I don’t want that change, so I don’t have to accept it!” or “I’m full. No more for me!”

Instead, we are blessed with life and change and unexpected lives and situations. Like everything else, though, I believe living together peacefully is a choice. It simply requires patience to wait (and endure) until others in the household choose to accept, adapt, adjust, compromise and settle in.

One day my oldest and I were chatting. He, as the oldest child in our household, has been very helpful and patient in helping younger children settle in to the new family situation. That day he commented on the struggle he observed one child having with some aspects of the blended household. I agreed with his observations and told him I had noticed the same thing but didn’t see any solution other than to continue to cheerfully and patiently endure the transition.

My son laughed and said, “Mom, sometimes I just want to make it easier for them and say, ‘Dude, give it up. You’re never going to win this one.’”

I asked, “What do you mean, ‘win’?”

He explained, “You know, get away with things that are wrong, inappropriate, disrespectful or against the house rules. It’s never going to happen.”

I clarified, “Oh? How do you know?”

He exclaimed, “Because you raised me! Mom, you’re one of THE strongest people I know. It’s a battle that can’t be won. I know, because I tried to ‘break you’ for 18 years and you never once ‘cracked’!”

I wasn’t sure how to take that, but before I could respond he added, “And I’m so glad and grateful you didn’t—because look how awesome I turned out!”

“Awesome: extremely impressive; inspiring great admiration; extremely good; excellent.” (Merriam-Webster Dictionary)

Yes, he is. And it only took…18 years. (Just kidding! Children are born “awesome,” they simply increase in “awesomeness” over the years. And if I haven’t said it lately, I’m grateful to be a mother:)

A Warning

Date: July 27, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I didn’t fail the test, I just found 100 ways to do it wrong.” (Benjamin Franklin)

When I was a girl, I remember my dad telling me many times, “We’ve never been parents before. Please forgive us for any mistakes we may have made. Believe us when we say that every mistake has been made out of love.”

Then I grew up and became a mother. Believe me, I’ve shared that sentiment with my own children, many times, over the years, as well.

And THEN I became a stepmother. Or as some would say, “Better a serpent than a stepmother!” (Euripides) Completely new unchartered territory.

Despite their “fairy tale portrayals,” let me set the record straight. Stepmothers actually are human beings. They’re women. They’re mothers. They’re imperfect, like everyone else. Odds are, they’re bound to continue to make parenting mistakes. Even with stepchildren. Especially if they’re me.

I made my first one before I even married my husband. I apologized, my future stepson forgave me, and I realized something would be very handy in the remarriage/blending a family situation: a disclaimer.

Yes, I think parents, especially stepmothers, should come with a warning to the children they love and will parent. Something like, “Please forgive me. I’ve never been a parent before. I’m bound to make mistakes, but every mistake I make will be out of love as I seek to do what is best for you to prepare you for life.”

And along with the disclaimer, a guarantee: “I promise I won’t quit, I won’t let myself fail you, but I may find several ways to do it wrong in my quest to get it right.”

Maybe even 100 ways.

Consider yourself warned.

“One timely cry of warning can save nine of surprise.” (Joshua Thompson)

“Because I’m Worth It” (Loreal, 1967)

Date: July 26, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Whenever I don’t have to wear makeup, it’s a good day.” (Cameron Diaz)

The other night I was in the bathroom, removing my makeup, getting ready for bed. About the time I entered the raccoon stage—big black circles of eye makeup and mascara mixed with Vaseline (I’m an 80s girl, what can I say? And it’s less expensive than professional makeup remover from Mac, Clinique or any other department store makeup counter), my husband walked in.

He asked, “Do you have any of those makeup remover ‘sheets’?”

I assumed he saw the archaic yet inexpensive makeup removal system I was using and was suggesting I splurge on something better. I clarified, “You mean the little towelettes that come pre-moistened? I’ve used them before, but they’re expensive; not a part of the budget in my new life.”

“Yes,” he replied. “I know they’re more expensive but…”

I assumed he was telling me he thinks I’m worth the extra few dollars said product would cost. But instantly, in that moment, just as I began to get swept away by the romance of my new husband’s caring and concern for even my makeup removal, and before I could respond, he lifted his hair back, showed me his forehead and said, ” I mean, look at this! I tried to take it off, but it doesn’t come off easily. Those towelettes work really well.”

Stage makeup.

For the theater production he’s in this summer at Sundance  resort in Utah.

“The Sound of Music.”

It opens this Friday, July 29.

I gave him some of what I was using, and we both stood at the counter, together, and removed our makeup as we talked about the day.

Second marriage moment #20. Standing in front of the mirror, removing my makeup, while my husband did the same!

I never EVER expected that one.

“I mean, look, I wear makeup in films. I don’t wear makeup in real life. It’s just part of the gig, that’s all.” (Bruce Willis)

Really. At least I’m pretty sure that’s the message my husband would want me to share with the world should I reveal (as I have) that he sometimes wears makeup because, “not everyone is as liberal-minded as you are,” he says.

Speaking of liberals and conservatives, and politics in general, here’s a good one: “The reason there are so few female politicians is that it is too much trouble to put makeup on two faces.” (Maureen Murphy)

Two Worlds

Date: July 25, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Culture is roughly anything we do and the monkeys don’t.” (Lord Raglan)

Remarriage means attempting, and learning how, to blend two completely different worlds. Two different lives. Two different families. And as #5 wisely observed, basically, “two completely different cultures.”

Second marriage moment #19? The reality and sum of the remarriage equation in my world: ex-wife/mother of stepchildren plus wife/mother of other children equals two completely different, opposite, family worlds. And its ramifications confront you, literally, every single day to those who live together. As optimistic as I prefer to be, I confess, it is not always an easy reality. Mark that second marriage moment #19a. (A difficult pill to swallow, at times, for the overly optimistic me.)

So how do you deal with it? I believe you handle it  like any other challenge in life, expected or otherwise: laugh. Because family, blended or otherwise, and “Rastafari not a culture, it’s a reality.” (Bob Marley) There are some pretty crazy, and darn funny, moments, aren’t there? Sometimes all you can do is shake your head and laugh.

Lastly, never forget that challenges are meant to be overcome; that they CAN be overcome. Second marriage moment #19b: the day my youngest sister, remarried and a stepmother for almost a decade now, told me: “Hang in there. EIGHT YEARS LATER, it’s a LOT better!” Oh, good. Only seven years, 7 months to go! Lol.

But I believe it can be done. And I’m going to be one of many who successfully does it. Anyone can, even if they don’t always think they can, like those moments of, “WHAT have I gotten myself into?” I imagine even original, biologically-related parents of families might wonder that on occasion, as well, huh?

Those moments are when we listen to Oprah. “Do the one thing you think you cannot do. Fail at it. Try again. Do better the second time. The only people who never tumble are those who never mount the high wire. This is your moment. Own it.” (Oprah Winfrey)

That’s what I’m doing. I’ve mounted the high wire of remarriage and blending families; there have been some great moments. In fact, “I’ve had quite a few moments I’ve liked, so it’s good enough.” (Bryan Ferry)

And I’m looking forward to many more.

Happily Ever After, Every Now And Then

Date: July 20, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I just want to live happily ever after, every now and then.” (Jimmy Buffet)

The older I get and the more people I meet, the more I’m reminded with every conversation that life is full of challenges. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that every life has big hurdles, whether they are visible from the outside looking in or not. In fact, there are so many unexpected lives taking place in the world sometimes I’m almost overwhelmed by the experiences and stories of the people I meet, things they’ve been burdened with and the challenges they face in seeking to survive, emotionally or physically or financially, in life.

But they inspire me.

I admire the many, many people who carry on, deal with their challenges the best they can, attempt to rise above them and choose TO LIVE and to BE HAPPY despite them. I’m inspired by everyone attempting to create and choosing to live a version of “happily ever after.” Because, “I’ve always thought anyone can make money. Making a life worth living, that’s the real test.” (Robert Fulghum)

And if you do that, if you can make a life worth living and choose to be happy despite the setbacks and everything else that happens to you, I believe THAT is a happily ever after.

Live.

Anyway.

Despite it all and regardless of what happens.

Embrace your unexpected life.

Live.

“And, while Cinderella and her prince did live happily ever after, the point, gentlemen, is that they lived.” (“Ever After,” the movie)

The point is…to live.

Second Marriage Moment #18: Family Vacation

Date: July 18, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“It would seem that something which means poverty, disorder and violence every single day should be avoided entirely, but the desire to beget children is a natural urge.” (Phyllis Diller)

Kids.

We have quite a few of them, thanks to our remarriage. Eight, to be exact. (Plus one daughter-in-law.) And we recently took all of them on our first family vacation.

It was quite a feat (not just the traveling as a group of 11 part, but in even pulling it off financially, not to mention coordinating the calendars of 11 different family members and 7 different work and vacation schedules to find dates that worked for everyone!) My husband, the two youngest children and I flew ahead of the rest of the group; the 7 teens/young adults flew to our destination a few days later. We met them at the airport.

I hugged my daughter and asked how her flight was. She reported the adventure of having a conversation with a woman sitting next to her on the airplane. Apparently, the group was seated in three rows of two, with my daughter sitting across the aisle from the group. The woman asked, “Are you traveling alone?”

My daughter replied, “No. I’m traveling with my brothers and sisters.”

The woman commented, “You’re a little young to be traveling alone, aren’t you?” She wanted to know who the brothers and sisters were. My daughter pointed to the three rows of passengers (ages 13-24) across the aisle and the woman was stunned to realize how large the group was. “There are so many of you— and no parents!”

My daughter explained, “Yes, our parents flew out early for our dad’s birthday.”

The woman nodded, knowingly, and said something about the parents getting away alone and leaving the children behind. My daughter clarified, “Oh no, our parents took the two youngest children with them!”

The woman’s face showed her surprise as she mentally calculated the total number of children that had to be connected to just one family, our family, and asked one more question, “Where are you from?”

My daughter replied, “Utah.”

Conversation over! I guess that state explained it all, because the woman didn’t talk to my daughter after that.

As my daughter related her travel experience, the others shared similar stories. The oldest daughter reported she’d also had a lot of strangers comment on the size of her family and said she handled all conversations with a quick explanation: “It’s a ‘Yours, Mine & Ours’ family.”

Not that I doubted their experiences, but I was surprised to have one of my own on the return flight. We boarded as a group and as we stepped on the plane, a flight attendant asked me, “Is this a family reunion?”

I shook my head and answered, “No, it’s just a family vacation.”

The flight attendant looked at me with big eyes, like she wasn’t sure she believed me. I added, “Really, we’re just one dad, one mom, eight kids and one in-law.”

Before I could explain further, the oldest daughter swooped in to rescue me with her well-practiced, “It’s a ‘Yours, Mine & Ours’ family.”

All I can say is that if fellow travelers couldn’t believe the size of our family, there’s something they would have to have seen to believe as well: the packed cars filled with all 11 of us, our suitcases and everything else the kids hauled on vacation.

Apparently, “Those that say you can’t take it with you never saw a car packed for a vacation trip.”

Even On July 13

Date: July 13, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“If you wish to forget anything on the spot, make a note that this thing is to be remembered.” (Edgar Allan Poe)

Two years ago today, July 13, 2009, I thought my world had ended.

As I drove from Colorado to begin a new life in Utah (crying as discreetly as possible so my children wouldn’t realize tears were uncontrollably rolling down my cheeks), I could not comprehend ever healing or feeling whole again. I anticipated that date, July 13, would be burned in my memory forever and would always haunt me, as a day of personal infamy, never to be forgotten.

Cut to 2011.

A few days ago I realized (only because my middle child reminded me) that July 13 was approaching. I marveled at the healing that has taken place in just two years. I can’t believe all that has transpired in my life and in the lives of my children since 2009. We’re living a completely different, yet still unexpected, life. And honestly, this isn’t a painful date any more.

But I decided I needed to at least attempt to give it the respect I had once thought it deserved, to remember it and to mark the occasion by doing SOMETHING, so I made a plan to dispose of the dead hanging basket of flowers previously mentioned today—July 13.

This morning I got up, went to work, had a lunch meeting, worked all day, came home, did some work from home, enjoyed my children, made dinner, ate dinner with my family, sent #5 off to rehearsal for Sundance Resort’s summer theater production of “The Sound of Music,” and on my way back into the house happened to notice the basket of dead flowers hanging on the front porch. It brought me to a screeching halt. July 13!

Today was once THE day! I was supposed to have remembered it, wasn’t I? I had a plan to carry out! And here it was, almost 6 p.m., before I even remembered today. Just two years from the day I thought my world had ended, and already, I have completely forgotten July 13!

But never let it be said I don’t follow through with my plans. I asked my oldest son to throw the basket in the outside trashcan, he grabbed it and went to toss it out, and I turned around and went back into the house without a second glance or another thought.

How did it happen? How is it possible to have suffered such tremendous loss, to have endured such devastation and grief, only to forget such a landmark date just two years later?

I think it’s one bonus of not just living the unexpected life, but choosing to embrace your unexpected life.

Accept what you’ve been dealt. Take stock of what you’re left with. Use it to rebuild. Count your blessings. Laugh. Choose to find happiness and joy in your new realm. And guess what? You will. Each and every time. If it happened to me, it can happen to you. I know it. And then at some point, you realize the pain is gone. If you hang on long enough, choose to let go of it and focus on your new blessings, at some point, the pain is gone.

“My focus is to forget the pain of life. Forget the pain, mock the pain, reduce it. And laugh.” (Jim Carrey)

Even on July 13.