Living Happily Ever After
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Proma Drama II

Date: April 20, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Adolescence isn’t just about prom or wearing sparkly dresses.” (Jena Malone)

Yes, for my teenage daughter it’s about a lot of things—including working two part-time jobs, one of them at Cold Stone.

She came home last night to report the experience of describing her dress to her date so he could coordinate his attire. She told him it was black and champagne. But the boy couldn’t grasp the concept of that particular color description—champagne. My daughter said she tried a few other descriptive words and finally hit on the idea to put it in terms he could understand. (They both work at Cold Stone.)

“It’s the color of coffee ice cream!”

Light dawned in his eyes; he got it.

I guess you could say my daughter is heading to prom in a dress the color of hot fudge and coffee ice cream. And apparently, her date will be dressed to match. But here’s what’s really important, according to someone who ought to know: ”Over the years I have learned that what is important in a dress is the woman who is wearing it.” (Yves Saint Laurent)

True.

There’s Nothing Like Halloween To…

Date: November 1, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Charlie Brown is the one person I identify with. C.B. is such a loser. He wasn’t even the star of his own Halloween special.” (Chris Rock)

There’s nothing like Halloween to…make you feel like a loser.

That’s how I felt last night anyway. I’m past the Ponzi scheme, past the divorce, past the complete world and life change, etc…but as I sat home alone on Halloween for the first time in my life and passed out candy to trick-or-treaters, I think I was was a little sad not to be “the star” of Halloween this year.

Every other year since becoming a mother I’ve planned the costumes, purchased the candy, made a festive dinner, and taken my children trick-or-treating. This year my oldest was at college; my daughter was working at Cold Stone; and my husband took my two youngest trick-or-treating at their request. I don’t know if it was being home alone on Halloween night for the very first time in my life or if it was the result of all the chocolate I ate (you know, the low that comes on the heels of a sugar high from eating WAY too much candy!) but I some serious orange and black nostalgia.

I missed my dad, who always took my siblings and me trick-or-treating as children. Those thoughts led to nostalgia for the carefree, innocent days of childhood.

Then I missed the Halloweens I’ve celebrated as a mother. Those thoughts made me miss my old life, just a little bit.

And then THOSE thoughts made me realize 2011 was my 18th Halloween as a mother! A milestone of sorts. And I realized: I’m not just a Halloween loser, I’m a middle-aged Halloween loser! Aaaauuggghhh! (Isn’t that what Charlie Brown always said?)

I remembered my first Halloween as a mother, 1993—my cute six-month-old baby, dressed like a clown, crawling to the trick-or-treat candy bowl and helping himself to lollipops. He didn’t know what to do with them at that age, but he loved the crinkly sounds the wrappers made! Skinny little Dum-Dum sticks grasped tightly and awkwardly in chubby baby fingers and tight baby fists. I’ll never forget that.

Halloween, and life, was very different then. In 1993, I had the world by the tail and thought my biggest challenge was going to be my attempt at motherhood, trying to be a good mother to my children; I had NO IDEA all that life would deliver to my door, and that not all of it would be as welcome as the continuous “ding’dong” of a doorbell on Halloween night.

I guess life is like that for all of us, huh?

Well, that baby clown is grown and gone. And there I was, home alone, crying as I passed out candy to trick-or-treaters, thinking about that, how fast the past 18 years have gone and all that my family has lived through.

Rest assured, however, that grown baby clown did nothing of the sort. Nostaliga? Heck no!  He was too busy making the rounds at university Halloween dances this year, dressed as a giant Whoopee Cushion, solo dancing on stages around BYU’s campus, performing some awe-inspiring, “shuffle” dance moves that are currently all the rage. I confess, picturing a giant Whoopee Cushion busting dance moves to which college crowds gathered around to watch wiped away some of my melancholy—as did the realization that I have only myself to blame.

I mean, what do you get when you use, as a disciplinary consequence, dance parties in the kitchen? Worse, what do you get when you make your children dance to the song of your choice if they misbehave…and if you make THEM watch YOU dance if they’ve been really, really bad?

Ironically, a pretty well-behaved mostly grown up Whoopee Cushion. With some pretty excellent dance moves.

“Whoopee Cushion (noun): a type of cusion or pillow used as a practical joke that when sat upon, produces a loud noise resembling flatulence.” (Dictionary.com)

College Application Day

Date: December 2, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Education is what remains after one has forgotten what one has learned in school.” (Albert Einstein)

I remember that moment as if it were yesterday.

The moment my oldest entered the world and the doctor placed his squirming, naked body on my chest and I looked into his eyes for the very first time. I touched his head of blonde hair, talked to him and he instantly quieted and turned his head to look at me. As we looked into each others’ eyes, every dream I’d ever had seemed to come true in that moment.

Overall, he has been a dream, but like all children, occasionally there have been days filled with parenting challenges when the dream has been less than idyllic.

Like the first day of kindergarten when he came home  and announced he didn’t need to go back, he had learned everything he needed to know; he knew it all already.

Or when he was in first grade and struggled to settle down and complete his assignments which resulted in he and I sitting at the kitchen table for 6 hours on Saturdays, finishing everything he didn’t do during the week.

Or during every parent-teacher conference when each teacher expressed he never looked like he was paying attention, so they’d call on him and were surprised every time that he always knew the answer to the questions he was asked.

“I guess he was paying attention, even though he doesn’t look like it or  act like it,” they said.

My mom said, as she watched him live every day at full speed and sighed with exhaustion, “If you can just get him channeled in the right direction, he’ll be the best kid. Completely unstoppable. You’ll be in awe of him.”

Turns out, they were both right. His teachers and his Grandma Christensen. Because today, on his own, he kept track of the deadlines he needed to meet, he scheduled the required interviews, he submitted the paperwork necessary to continue to achieve his dreams; he applied for college. To BYU. He may not always look like he’s paying attention, but he is. And impressively so. Thankfully, he’s now channeling himself in the right directions and I just stand back in awe of who he is and what he accomplishes.

I couldn’t be more proud of my teenager who had his world shattered three weeks before his 16th birthday; who lost his life and everything he had ever known, including his father, and yet managed to maintain straight A’s while living through a nightmare. (What teenager does THAT?) Yet as I read over his college application, I couldn’t help but notice some changes from what I’d always anticipated to see on such paperwork.

I’d planned his life would be comprised of two married parents, tuition money taken care of, and time for lots of carefree fun. Instead, his application shows he lives with a single parent and three siblings, our income level was the second lowest category (the one above “O”), and that he needs scholarships, financial aid and a job to put himself through school. I also couldn’t help but think about all he does in addition to school: fills the father role for his younger brothers; drives children to daycare and school and other activities; helps discipline his brothers; teaches them to respect women, especially their mother; helps pay bills; maintains our vehicles and home; occasionally has to miss school to tend a sick child; works at Cold Stone and willingly turns every single paycheck over to me every pay day to help our family. Yet despite living the life of an adult/father figure, he manages to earn straight A’s, run a little track and play some ice hockey.

I look forward to watching him continue his education, in and out of the classroom. He has a lot to offer. I anticipate he’ll continue to learn new things, and most importantly, he’ll gain an education.

He’s hoping to do that at Brigham Young University. And if the acceptance committee is interested at all in diversity (there was a section on the application for information geared toward maintaining that) my son has a good chance of getting in as his life and experience certainly isn’t typical of many students preparing for BYU!

Now the wait for the acceptance letter is on.

After all, “Everything comes to those who wait… except a cat.” (Mario Andretti)

Some Bright Spots

Date: May 3, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

The events of 2009 showed me, again, that life goes on in spite of the trauma, and that even in the darkest times, there are still bright spots. Sunshine. Here are a few “rays” that stand out in my mind.

For one, despite how I felt on the inside as I navigated the morass that was now my life and world, the sun continued to shine, blossoms and flowers bloomed, and birds sang. And I was fortunate enough to have eyes to see it, ears to hear it, and olfactory senses still mostly in tact (after breaking my nose I don’t smell things QUITE well as I used to) to smell it all!

Then my middle son had a pinewood derby for cub scouts. For the first time in our family’s history, my spouse put A LOT of work and effort into helping a son make a pinewood derby car. My son went to the derby and did so well he made it to the district race. He was struggling so much with the demise of our family and life, getting to go to a championship race was truly a bright spot for him.

The pinewood derby win also gave me what I thought was a brilliant idea. I had my spouse cut out 5 car shapes from pinewood derby car kits, I put them back in the boxes, taped them shut and put them away for future pinewood derby events for my two youngest sons. I thought that would allow them to feel their father was involved in a future event in their life AND it saved me from struggling through a disaster should I be forced to have to try to help with the creation of a pinewood derby car. (Of course, then we moved to Utah and found out they weren’t doing a pinewood derby–they were doing space ships. You win some, you lose some. But this single mother is prepared for any future pinewood derby!)

My son also had a wonderful school teacher who went out of her way at school, and after school hours, to be there for him, cheer him, and share things with him to totally make his day. Not to mention some really good friends and their families who took him in as their own, allowed him to spend a lot of time in their homes and with their families, and helped him take his mind off the events going on in our family.

Another bright spot was seeing my oldest son score goals at his hockey games. I thought, “You know, his life is tough right now but I am SO thankful he can have a temporary lift when he steps out on the ice and plays. And as an added bonus, he gets to experience the exhilarating feeling of scoring!”

Sometimes I felt my children were being blessed with special achievements or accomplishments they might not otherwise have received…as if they were being given some “compensation experiences” to help them have some happy moments amid the trying time of losing everything they had known.

Other bright spots came in the form of employment for my two oldest children. Money was mostly non-existent for our family and times, economically, were tough everywhere. But my son got hired at Cold Stone and my daughter was asked to nanny and babysit nearly every day of the week. Both children were able to help us provide the things we needed and they were very generous to offer, of their own volition, the money they earned to help support our family. (My children amazed me. And continue to amaze me. Not every teenager thinks like they did.)

In fact, my oldest has pressured me many times in the year since our new life began to allow him to get a job working many hours each week outside of school–so he can earn the money, and pay me, the child support I am not receiving because my former spouse is in prison and unable to work. It is my opportunity and blessing to love and provide for my children–I would never have them pay for the privilege of being my family and having to endure me as their mother! lol. However, it has been a bright spot for me to see the growth and maturity my oldest children have displayed in our unexpected life. Those early glimpses into the amazing adults my children are becoming has certainly been a highlight of the past year for me.

I also attended a meeting of the women’s organization I had been president of and the new leaders presented me with a beautiful bouquet of flowers and thanked me for my service. It was very touching to me and a welcome ray of happiness during a difficult time in my life.

And lastly, in addition to everything many, many women and friends did to help and support me at that time, one of my most touching experiences was the Sunday two friends stopped me in the hall at church and presented me with a beautiful quilt they had made, comprised of squares embroidered by individual women and friends for me. Everyone embroidered their name on a piece of it.

A tangible reminder of many names, and friends, who loved me and served me in the most shocking, dark and difficult time of my life. Truly, the people who crossed my path and touched my life over the nearly 20 years I lived in Colorado were some of my brightest experiences.

No matter how dark, there is always a bright spot.

I had many.

Looking back, a bright spot was also coming to this realization, as well: “Like a plant that starts up in showers and sunshine and does not know which has best helped it grow, it is difficult to say whether the hard things or the pleasant things did me the most good.” (Lucy Larcom)

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