Living Happily Ever After
test123

Blog Articles

Such a Sappy Mom

Date: September 24, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I’m a sappy mom now. I didn’t think I would be. I thought I’d be a cool mom who keeps everything in perspective.” (Katherine Heigl)

Not me! I’m such a sappy mom I had to step away from this blog for almost 3 months to get some perspective! And even when I did return, I couldn’t blog about the reason for my absence the first few posts. What  in the world happened? My oldest left home.

For real.

Yah, sure, he went “away” to college last year (as in lived in the dorms of Brigham Young University so he could have the complete college experience) but I live 20 minutes away and could drive by his dorm and look at the window of the room he lived in whenever I wanted, talk to him on the phone, text, help with his laundry, see and feed him once each week at Sunday dinner and ask him for help when I needed him. All of which I did.

But no more. And now that the Band-Aid of his departure has been ripped off what seemed like emotional millimeter after emotional millimeter, and my heart has had 3 months to heal, I’m ready to talk about it. Or at least explain why I haven’t been around: my son, Elder Merriman, is serving a two-year Christian mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. And although his missionary service is something I believe in and raised him to do, it didn’t make it any easier for this sappy mother to let him go.

I cried every time I even thought about him leaving. Even the day before he left when we were packing up his bedroom and had one of our infamous and impromptu dance parties, I broke with tradition and bawled while busting my finest moves, the memory of which had to last two years. My missionary son said, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Don’t EVEN tell  me you’re crying again!” But I was.

Thankfully, I’ve got the sap under control these days. Now I live for Wednesdays, the one day each week when Elder Merriman is able to take time out of his busy missionary labors to contact home and let us know what he’s been up to during his current assignment in the Canary Islands. Every week’s report is filled with a new adventure, fun fact of information I didn’t know before, or a growing experience; I’m so grateful he is where he is, doing what he is doing. (I just don’t think about the fact that last time I saw him in person was June 20, 2012 and the next time I’ll see him, in person, will be some time in June 2014! I don’t need THAT MUCH reality or perspective! Lol.)

What a privilege has been mine to to be a mother. What a joy that son, now Elder Merriman, has been every day of his life. (Despite a few moments isolated moments in 7th grade during his long hair and “skater” phase where his, or my, behavior may have given the illusion of something to the contrary! Lol.)

Love your kids.

And if you have a child, and if you have the good fortune to see them in person or to be with them today, give them a hug. From you, their mother…and from me.

“Son, you outgrew my lap, but never my heart.” (Unknown)

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

The Secret To Staying Young

Date: September 7, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The secret to staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly, and lie about your age.” (Lucille Ball)

Or if that fails, you can try this:

It was spring break. Bachelor #5 invited my little family to join his family and extended family for the break, but we already had plans so we went on our spring break and he went on his. He wanted me to meet his mom, brother and sister-in-law and extended family, so we made arrangements to meet the final night of break in St. George, Utah.

It led me to discover the secret to youth, no fountain involved, or at least the secret of feeling young. And no, it isn’t to date someone older than you. (That just makes them seem old! Lol.)

If you want to feel “young” again, get divorced in your 40s and then meet a new man’s family! The whole night, as I looked around the clan gathered, I kept thinking, “This is NOT me. I should not be here, I should not be having to do this like I’m in my 20s again!” But in reality, that was exactly the position I was in and exactly what I was doing.

At my age, and after 20 years of marriage, it had been decades since I’d been the “new” person getting to know an established family. It was a disconcerting position to be in and I felt every bit of my single status that night. The unexpected bonus was how “young” it made me feel! Lol.

So I met his mother. She was nice, made me feel welcome, complimented me on my children, invited us to visit her at her home, and she went out of her way to speak with each of my children; I liked her and felt very accepted by her and comfortable around her.

His family and relatives were polite and kind to me, but they seemed to keep their distance. (As did I, I admit. I had a hard time getting past the strange position I felt I was in that night.)

After meeting everyone, late that night when we were alone after not seeing each other for one week, he hugged me. It must have been SOME hug, because I felt like crying when he hugged me! I’d never had that happen. I didn’t know what to think of that–was I was a crazy, divorced woman? Or, maybe it was more like this: “Millions and millions of years would still not give me half enough time to describe that tiny instant of all eternity when you put your arms around me and I put my arms around you.” (Jacques Prévert)

Ever had a hug like that? If so, you know what I’m talking about.

But the real shock was yet to come.

One of the first things out of Bachelor #5′s mouth after he hugged me was, “I know I said I would wait as long as you need me to, and I will, but I’m thinking September.”

WHAT?

I probably looked like a deer caught in headlights, but at least I didn’t throw up this time!

Progress.

“Make measurable progress in reasonable time.” (Jim Rohn)

MAC Lipstick And One Water Ski

Date: August 16, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Our relationship continues.

Every time we talk, text or see each other, she continues be so friendly, kind, patient and loving. She hugs me. She doesn’t miss a chance to express her love and gratitude for me. She shares her perspective and experience with me. She isn’t afraid to tell me, honestly, what she thinks. She is accepting of everyone. She is beautiful inside and out. She is a positive force for good in the world, in my life and for my children.

We’re getting to know each other. We even had our first “sleep over” last month, just she and I–going to dinner, soaking in a hot mineral tub at The Homestead and chatting about anything and everything until late at night.

My children are getting to know her and getting used to her. The first time they met her, they stared at her. A lot. I couldn’t figure out what their problem was, but every time I’d look at my two oldest children, they’d be raising their eyebrows at each other or laughing. On the way home, I asked them what was so funny.

My oldest son said, “Mom, it’s like you two are the SAME person! You do EVERYTHING alike. It’s uncanny!” And he listed the many similarities he had observed in the short time he’d spent with her–right down to the way we both speak, to the way we get side-tracked in a conversation, to the way we talk with our hands (even on the phone), to the way we both have to have lipstick on all of the time, to the way we apply our lipstick in the same way,multi-tasking, while we drive a car! (To the fact that both of us carry and use MAC lipstick without the lids–we lose them.)

“I drive with my knees. Otherwise, how can I put on my lipstick and talk on my phone?” (Sharon Stone)

Although we have our differences.

My birth mother took me out in her boat the other weekend. She is 66 years old now, still really trim and very fit and athletic. She easily got up on one ski (something I’ve never been able to do), skied all around the reservoir (I’ve never been able to do that–I crash before I make it that far!), and then took one foot out of the ski so she could do stunt poses while the boat towed her. (Something I’ve never thought to do and wouldn’t be able to even if I wanted to!)

When she held on to the tow rope with her toes to free her hands so she could do even bigger stunt poses, I had to shake my head in awe. I thought everyone had been joking when they told me she’d water ski with her toes given the chance! Nope.

Clearly, I got ripped off in the genetics of water skiing department!

But that’s ok. She has two skis in her boat. And apparently, I’ll be the only one using two skis as I maintain a death grip on the tow rope…with BOTH hands.

“How about that? That squirrel can water ski.” (Ron Burgundy aka. Will Ferrell, “Anchorman“)

At The Church Building

Date: March 30, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Prior to March 18, 2009, it had been my privilege to love and serve 225 women as president of the women’s organization of my church congregation.  A few days after He revealed His crimes to me, I received word that our pastor wanted to meet with me.

The pastor had been a good friend AND a business partner of my spouse in a construction project.  He, more than anyone else in the world, knew exactly how innocent I was of any crime or wrongdoing because he had been deceived as completely as I had. We both knew the extent of the other’s innocence and betrayal.  I will never forget that moment of seeing him for the first time after everything was out in the open.

He stood, at the far end of his office, with tears streaming down his face.  I stood there crying, too.  He said he was sorry; I said, “Me too.” And we talked about our shock, grief, the betrayal, my children, his problems, and a host of other things.  Then he mentioned my service to the women, told me he felt I should be released, he apologized that it would make me look guilty to some but that releasing me sooner, rather than later, would be best for the women of the congregation.  However, he told me if I wanted him to wait a week or two, they would consider it.

For the first time in my life, I felt I was in no position to serve anyone else.  And the damage to my reputation was done–guilt by association in the eyes of some, but those who knew me, who really mattered, knew the truth about me.  I, frankly, couldn’t afford the mental energy to worry or care for too long what anyone else thought of me.  I had enough problems of my own to solve. I told our pastor I had no objection to taking care of my release as quickly as possible. And that was that.

I drove away from the church building, shaking my head, and thought, “That certainly wasn’t how I envisioned my service ending! Cut short due to the criminal activity of another, the timing making me appear guilty of something, and not  a thanks for your service, good job, or even a thank you for trying!”

I laughed outloud as I drove down the road toward what had once felt like home.

Life is full of unexpected experiences.

I had never lived my life, or served in my church, to be praised by others OR to be thanked.  It didn’t matter.  And my poor pastor had other huge personal concerns.  I am sure what he thought he said sounded better than what actually came out of his mouth. No worries.

But Sunday, that first week after my spouse revealed His crimes, was a worry.

Church.

I knew I belonged in church. I knew I needed to be in church, for me and for my children. But I can’t tell you how I dreaded it that first Sunday.  My former spouse had served as a pastor of our congregation for five years and the news about him was out.  I had served and been active in our congregation, as well, and didn’t look forward to facing everything and everyone in church as my own ponzi-victim version of a “fallen woman” or an “outcast.”

But as I’ve said before, you can’t go over it or around it, you have to go through it.

One of my kids asked, ‘We don’t have to go to church this week, do we?”  I answered, “Of course we do!  That is what we do on Sunday.  We don’t stop doing what we should do just because life gets hard.  We need to be there! We believe in choosing the right! ”

So we went to church.

We pulled into the parking lot and I forced myself to get out of the car.  As I headed toward the building, I saw HER across the parking lot. A member of the congregation and a victim of my spouse. She saw me, changed course, and headed right for me. Her steps were quick and determined. All in my direction.

My heart sank.  I fought panic and fear.  My kids were with me, I was feeling pretty fragile, I had already been verbally assaulted by a few victims and I wasn’t sure I was up for another confrontation. My mind raced as I thought, “What am I going to say? What am I going to do? How am I going to do this?”

I should have given HER more credit.

She came toward me…and embraced me.  I was so overwhelmed by fear, by her charity, by my sorrow for her loss, by my sorrow for my loss, by her love and compassion for me in spite of what my spouse had done to her all I could do was sob as we stood in the parking lot.  I will never forget her character in that moment (and in the many moments since that day.)

“I’m so sorry!” I cried.

She stood back, grabbed me by the shoulders, looked me in the eye and asked, “What are YOU sorry about?  YOU did nothing!  YOU don’t have to apologize to anyone for anything.” And she hugged me again. I don’t know everything about her life, but I know, like all of us, she has had challenges and hardships she has worked diligently to overcome. But that moment has to be one of the finest of her entire life–past, present, or future. I will never forget it.

It gave me added strength to continue toward the building and enter the chapel. I was there to be released from my service to the women of the congregation and to be an example to my children of carrying on in the face of adversity.  I sat on the bench, tried not to cry, and was completely unsuccessful.  I felt like all eyes were on me.  In many ways, I think they were. But every time I dared look up, or mustered the courage to look someone in the eye, they looked back at me with tears in their own eyes and smiled encouragement.  Some passed me quickly jotted notes on scraps of paper, writing words of support and love and gratitude for something I had taught them.

But my children were another story.

My daughter sat through church perfect, silent, closed, and angry.  She didn’t shed a tear.

My oldest son sat through church with tears streaming down his cheeks the entire meeting.

My youngest, too little to understand but able to sense trauma, clung to me and cried.

And although the reactions of my grief-stricken children trying to get through their first Sunday after life as we knew it had ended broke my heart, my middle son shattered it.  He sat next to me and wrote his thoughts on a piece of paper, “My dad is going to prison.  I can’t believe our dad tore our family apart for money.” And, the one I haven’t been able to forget, “There is a hole in my chest where my heart used to be.”

Nine years old.  With a huge, gaping hole where his heart used to be.