Living Happily Ever After
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Blog Articles

Me Too!

Date: April 7, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“To feel much for others and little for ourselves; to restrain our selfishness and exercise our benevolent affections, constitute the perfection of human nature.” (Adam Smith)

Before we get to the details of the big day, I have to pause and commend someone for something: #5. For his patience, restraint and consideration of my privacy and this blog.

I remember our date after I began blogging, when I was telling him all about it as we drove down the road. Deciding to tell my story was a momentous decision for me, and for my children, and I was letting him in on the details. One of his first questions was, “Tell me something, would it ruin your blog if you weren’t writing as a single mother?” That was in the days before I knew he was interested in me, and long before I was romantically interested in him, so I didn’t have a clue as to what he was talking about or why he would even ask that!

As our relationship progressed he continued to stay very anonymous, for his sake, and mine, although he made jokes about getting a t-shirt made that said, “#5″ and a myriad of other #5-related slogans. He good-naturedly made lots of jokes about catchy slogans he could put on clothing for himself, thanks to my blog. And he was very patient about every private detail of our courtship being posted to a blog read by people he didn’t know. He was a VERY good sport about the bachelor section, too, despite the fact it was very educational for him–he’d never had any idea I was as involved in the singles scene as I had been. (Although that was when he quit reading this blog, never to return again!)

When we got engaged, and he wanted to tell everyone in his social network, he was restrained enough to share just the basic information: that he was getting married, to a woman named Andrea from Denver–and that’s it. When he organized his list of family on Facebook, he was good enough to leave me off.

But apparently, late that evening, the night before our appointed wedding day, he lost it. He abandoned all restraint. My sister got on Facebook and unexpectedly, found a post that entertained us. #5 had been on Facebook and logged a status update:

“I’m gettin’ married in the mornin’. Yeah!”

And it was as true for him as it had been in “My Fair Lady.” (You have to love his taste for the theatrical!)

Although I rarely get on Facebook, and I comment even less, that night I couldn’t resist. I was getting married in the morning too, so I guess I was feeling a bit reckless as well. I commented, “Me too!” And my sister “liked” it:)

Some last minute advice for #5 before it’s too late: “If you’re going to do something tonight that you’ll be sorry for tomorrow morning, sleep late.” (Henny Youngman)

Real

Date: April 5, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Being a Brady comes with it’s pleasures and its baggage. I’m not one given to a lack of privacy and invasion.” (Christopher Knight)

I know I’ve said I don’t want or need to be like The Brady Bunch, but it’s nice to know I can look to them for inspiration. And to know they feel my pain. Lol.

Despite the commercials, signs and other things that left me feeling unsettled that day in the marriage license office, I didn’t run. Instead, I calmly accepted the clipboard #5 handed me and proceeded to fill out my part of the information. However, as I did that, I realized something. Again.

You lose something in divorce.

Some degree of privacy.

And it seems like it lasts the rest of your life, or at least as long as you have children. Really, the divorce decree only grants you partial freedom; because former spouses, by necessity, are in your business all too often. For example, when you go on vacation or leave town, legally, you have to inform the other parent of your plans and whereabouts. Not to mention the fact that you need to inform them when you have special plans so they don’t make their own special plans that conflict with yours. I confess, sometimes it bothers me. During our over 9-month engagement occasionally I’d think, “Just once, I’d like to make a plan and carry out that plan on my own, in privacy, without having to tell anyone else or involve anyone else in my private business.” I don’t have anything to hide, never have had, but sometimes I feel like “the exes” know our business ALMOST as quickly as we do!

And then not only did the get-married-quick scheme involve informing the former spouses of the plan so that we could have all of our children with us, there I am, applying for a license to marry #5, and even that couldn’t be just about us. The application required we list previous marriages and spouses and other similar information. Although I am not hostile to my ex-husband or #5′s ex-wife, I did have a flash of the thought, “For goodness sake! Can’t we even get a marriage license without having to bring up the previous spouses?”

Such is remarriage, I guess. I never knew to expect that. But we filled out the application and turned it in. One good thing about that flash of frustration, though. It cleared my mind of all fear and enabled me to answer the questions, check the paperwork for accuracy (the only mistake: the clerk listed my birthday for his birthday–or something like that! Since only our birth years are different, it can cause a little confusion in the paperwork occasionally.) We paid our $50 and walked out of the office with…a MARRIAGE LICENSE!

It was getting very real. And about to become totally real…in days.

“Everything you can imagine is real.” (Pablo Picasso)

And VERY exciting, if I do say so myself.

With Odds Like Mine

Date: September 23, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“…I’ve never been to therapy so there’s probably a lot of stuff about myself that I don’t know.” (Al Yankovic)

I didn’t know what to expect from my counseling session.

Believe it or not, I’ve always hated sharing the private details of my life (until my unexpected life–when I had no choice, the public nature of my former spouse’s Ponzi scheme and crimes took care of my privacy issues for me.) But I went. With Bachelor #5.

He tells me I wasn’t overly open or friendly to the counselor at first. He said my behavior gave him serious doubts as to the productivity of such an effort, but Bachelor #5 gave it his best shot anyway. He was open, willing to discuss all types of things with a virtual stranger, humble and accepting of advice the counselor offered. His comfort in the discussion gave me courage to share some of my thoughts. A little bit.

And then the premarital counseling session took an unexpected turn.

Toward the end, the therapist shared his background. And wouldn’t you know it? He was from the same hometown I am–Grand Junction, Colorado. Although he was several years older than me, we’d gone to the same high school; had some of the same friends…and then I started thinking about my connections there, his last name, and had a sinking feeling that I actually knew the therapist, too, or at least of him. I asked, ‘You don’t have younger brothers, do you?”

He confirmed that he was the oldest of five boys and actually had FOUR younger brothers.

That’s what I was afraid of.

I knew who he was. I knew (and loved) his parents, especially his mom. Because I had dated not just one, but TWO, of his younger brothers!

What are the odds of that? To end up unexpectedly single, living an unexpected life, in a new state, fall in love with a man, go to the “extra” effort of participating in remarriage counseling, and out of all counselors in the world, I end up with the one not just from my hometown, but whose brothers I dated?

I’m starting to think I should move to Las Vegas and take up gambling.

“Las Vegas: all the amenities of modern society in a habitat unfit to grow a tomato.” (Jason Love)

Divorced–And $1 More!

Date: March 8, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

July 13, 2009, was a day I never expected to live.  Here’s what happened.

I got up in the morning, got ready (I remember I wore a skirt), drove to a courthouse in Arapahoe County, Colorado, with my then-spouse, chatting and making small talk as we drove. And then we got divorced.  An alien experience in the great expectations I’d always had for my life.

Getting divorced itself, in my opinion, was not like it’s depicted in the movies.  I expected a huge, empty court room, with just a judge, myself, and my spouse, but that isn’t what I got.  I got a tiny courtroom (seems like it was the size of a large master bedroom), 8-10 strangers observing my proceeding and hearing my private business, and a magistrate signing the paperwork.  And where were the attorneys that were always present in divorce?  Oh. That’s right.  I didn’t have a dime and neither did my former spouse.  We couldn’t afford attorneys.  (I had paid a family lawyer for unbundled services and basically wrote my divorce myself, with her help, input from my friend Holly, and the aid of life experience from what I’d observed my divorcing friends go through.  All 2 of my friends who’d divorced.  Obviously, my experience with divorce was pretty limited!)

I had the opportunity to hear the private business of the parties who went before my turn came.  If I could have been ANYWHERE else, I would have been.  But since I had to be there, I tried to not hear what was going on.  I tried not to think.

When my turn came, I stepped to the table and spoke into the microphone.  While I had done everything required, my former spouse had not taken care of details he was supposed to have and the magistrate did not look kindly upon him.  I was granted everything I asked for…and $1 more!

You see, due to the choices of my former spouse, there was no way I would get any financial support of any kind.  I wouldn’t even have asked for any, but legally he has to pay something, so the court assigned him minimum wage (even though he was not employed and didn’t anticipate that he would be for quite some time) and stipulated he should pay me $563 each month to support our four children.  (HA!  Not that he’d be able to pay me, but my health insurance is $400/month!  My daycare and preschool is close to $600/month!  My car insurance, for a teenage driver, is $300! $563 doesn’t even cover our food! But whatever makes everyone else feel better about the situation…I’ve know I’ve gotten shafted financially, and every other possible way, but who’s complaining:)

Back to the divorce proceeding.  The magistrate noted I had been a stay-at-home mom and homemaker for almost our entire 20 year marriage and asked if I was requesting maintenance from my former spouse.  When I wasn’t, she added $1 to the amount of child support for MY maintenance, signed the papers, and I was divorced.  As quickly as that.

Divorced and $1 more!

We walked to the car, got in, and drove “home.” I don’t know about him, but I was trying not to think about what had just happened and the reasons for it.  I had other events to get through that day.

When we arrived home, we hauled my suitcases out and loaded them in my new (to me) 2005 Subaru Outback station wagon.  We loaded our two dogs (Joe, a 100 pound yellow lab and Ella, a 25 pound cocker spaniel) into their crates and into the Subaru.  I put my two youngest children, my 9 year old and my 3 year old in the car, ignored the staring neighbors, and drove off without a backward glance.

I wish I could say I drove off into the sunset.  But that isn’t what happened.  That isn’t where I was headed.  Call me the Queen of Denial, but at that moment, I couldn’t look back on any part of my previous life or I’d never be able to move forward.  I drove out of my Colorado neighborhood for the last time, heading to Utah, acting like I was going on a quick roadtrip–NOT starting an entirely new life in a new state as a single mother who works full time, the sole emotional/physical/financial support of 4 children!

I didn’t take one last walk through the home that had been mine for 16 years.  I didn’t walk my yard, look at my flowers, or “say goodbye” to any part of my home, property or old life.  I knew I would never be able to move on if I allowed myself to look back, even one little moment or at one tiny little thing.

Because I had never felt more inadequate for any task in my life.  I knew I had an emotional marathon ahead of me of unimagineable proportions.  Had I really been trained for it?  Was I really prepared?  It certainly wasn’t an exercise I’d ever planned on or expected.  I hoped I was up to the race of my life.  My childrens’ futures, and mine, hung in the balance.