Living Happily Ever After
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Blog Articles

An Opportunity

Date: September 21, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

Life, regardless of the unexpected circumstances you find yourself in, is a constant reminder of one important principle: hang in there. And nowhere am I reminded of this more than in my life as “my dad’s wife,” aka. stepmother, to mostly grown children. So for every woman married to a man who has children from another mother, this post’s for you.

Hang in there.

Acknowledge that, according to experts and professionals, the role of “stepmother” is the most difficult of all positions in life. So whether everything related to your opportunity (and it is exactly that, an opportunity) is a dream come true, whether it’s a work in progress, or whether it’s a situation in need of MUCH work and progress, hang in there! Because in this as in everything else in life, if you hang in there long enough and do everything you can to triumph, I know you eventually will. You’ll also learn important things and help others learn things along the way, too!

Case in point: the other day, my husband and I were reading a version of the story of Snow White to our youngest when, at the story’s completion, my husband looked at me and said, “Wow, I never knew that!”

“Never knew what?” I asked.

“That the wicked queen who hated Snow White and tried to kill her had been married to Snow White’s dad…” my husband began, but didn’t quite dare finish. “And…was…her…stepmother.”

Unfortunately, some of us haven’t had the luxury of remaining so blissfully ignorant. Not only was I raised on fairy tales and consider myself somewhat expert in their storylines, I am reminded of the whole stepmother thing at even the most unexpected times. Like last month.

My husband’s birthday was approaching so I texted his children: “You are all invited to dinner to celebrate your dad’s birthday. He will be thrilled to see you. Please let me know if you can come so I can plan the food,” and I listed the date and time. Within seconds, I got a response from our married son, “Yes! We will be there!”

I didn’t hear back from two of the children, which I’ve learned is typical; one never responds, but always attends and is cheerful and happy to be there, and the other usually responds at some point prior to the event, hasn’t missed a special dinner yet and is friendly and talkative while there. I’m grateful for their willingness to participate in family things.

The final response, from another, came a minute or two later: “Who is this???”

Lets just say that was the kindest and most respectful of the texts that followed from that particular child, and ALL the result of a simple invitation to dinner and dessert! It’s not like I was texting to hire a hit man (I mean, woodsman!) or to express a willingness to provide a poison comb or apple—just a simple home-cooked meal I’ve been told is in short supply in the kid’s life and I was happy to provide.

Such is the life of “a dad’s wife.” Franklin D. Roosevelt had some great advice for that position:  ”When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.” (Franklin D. Roosevelt) That’s my plan, and I recommend it—hanging on—to everyone in any position or unexpected life situation.

Because maybe someday the cuisine you prepare will be so delicious and so memorable that everyone who partakes of it will at least remember who prepared it, cooked it, served it, hosted it, paid for it, cleaned up after it, and never asked for anything in return. And if not, if that day never comes, imagine the amazing culinary talents you’ll have developed thanks to your opportunity. And that’s exactly what it is. An opportunity—to hang in there AND to forgive. Hmmm…sounds a lot like life itself.

“After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one’s own relations.” (Oscar Wilde)

The Key To Everything

Date: May 21, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The key to everything is patience. You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not by smashing it.” (Arnold H. Glasgow)

Recently, my youngest found a bird nest with an egg in it. I love birds, nests and imagining the possibilities in an unhatched egg and looked forward to checking the egg’s progress (from a distance) in the coming days—watching for a baby bird to hatch—with my son. I explained the plan and reminded him to leave the nest and egg alone so that nature could continue its course. He provided nest-and-egg updates for the next several hours until an “accident” occurred: the nest, and the shattered remains of what had once been an egg, lay on our front porch. My son attempted to blame the tragedy on a “strange bird that appeared out of the sky and then mysteriously disappeared” (coincidentally, never to be seen or heard from again after moving the nest and cracking the egg open) but the real culprit was my impatient six year old!

Impatience. Patience. The potential threat as well as the key to the success of an unexpected life. I remember thinking, when thrust into my unexpected life of extreme losses in every category, how is this all going to work out? How will any of this ever be made right? How will it be possible to ever be happy again? And the question of timing—when, how soon, how long will it take—was an even bigger unknown. Yet none of those questions are answered, or ever can be, without the important quality of patience because, “…all things are difficult before they become easy.” (Saadi)

It takes patience to master the difficult before it becomes easy. But with enough patience, every challenge can become a triumph, every time. Patience is the key: the key to endurance, the key to success, the key to triumph, the key to happiness. The key to everything? Patience. In fact, patience is genius.

Yes, “Genius is eternal patience.” (Michelangelo)

He ought to know.

Phone Calls and Boys, I Mean, Men

Date: January 20, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“America’s best buy is a telephone call to the right man.” (Ilka Chase)

The right man calling me on the phone has been sort of a struggle for me.

I was about 12 when the phone became a nuisance in my life. A boy I didn’t “like” called me several times each week after school. Each time he’d call, I’d tell my mom to tell him I wasn’t home. She’d look at me, say, “I’m not going to lie—YOU tell him!” and hand me the phone. Then the awkward conversation would begin until I’d make up an excuse and hurriedly hang up.

It was that same pattern for years: Joe, Joestes, Espada, Rick, Wes, a young man in college who called before I was even old enough to date…I can’t remember the names of all the “wrong” boys who called me during my youth. It seemed like the right one never would. But then, when I was 15 years old and the boy I “liked” actually liked me at the same time, the phone began to mean something new! The history of my relationship with phones was pretty good from that time on through college, especially when the young man I  loved moved to Bolivia for two years when I was 20 and 21 years old and I lived for his twice-yearly telephone calls! In 1989, I married (someone else), and for 20 years, took calls from a husband. I’ll probably never get phone calls like his again in my life–from his “office” where he was “working;” and from unique destinations via satellite phone connections all around the world as he traveled “for business”–England, Tanzania, Etheopia, South Africa, Zambia, Cameroon, Zimbabwe, Austria, Russia, Armenia, Germany, Switzerland, Belgium and more. And then I got divorced.

After that much time had passed, though, dating, romance, phones, EVERYTHING about being single, had changed! Communication was an entirely different scene. There was even a phenomenon known as “Love Language” that had been invented. Most men didn’t call me on the phone, they emailed, instant messaged and texted me. All of the time. Morning, noon and night. I woke up to “Good Morning” texts, I went to sleep to “Goodnight” texts and everything in between. I got some interesting and unsolicited photo texts. I got some stalker texts. I even got one marriage proposal text. (Really. I promise, I don’t make this stuff up—it is 100% my unexpected life!)

Apparently, “Texting is a way to remind your partner that you’re thinking about him or her throughout the day…Send them whenever you please!” (Cellphones, “Good To Know”)

I didn’t have a lot of time to talk on the phone anyway. I worked all day, so in the evenings I needed to be free to talk to my children. I didn’t have time to talk to men on the phone for hours. I realized that early into my return to the singles scene, when a man called me a lot and wanted to talk on the phone…every night…for hours…and I just couldn’t take it. I suggested he email or text instead as I didn’t have time for telephone chit chat because I needed to spend time with my children, and that was pretty much the last I heard from him!

Now you have the 411 on phones and the singles scene today.

Eventually I narrowed the texts down to one man, Bachelor #5 (sometimes known as Agent M.)

Although, “Easy is to occupy a place in a telephone book. Difficult is to occupy someone’s heart; know that you’re really loved,” (Carlos Drummond de Andrade) let’s just say #5 doesn’t only occupy a spot in my contact lists, he occupies my heart! But even he doesn’t call that much–he texts, emails and talks to me in person—the perfect man for a woman who doesn’t like to waste time talking to men on the phone when she’d rather be with them in person!

We’ve been engaged for 8 1/2 months now and I have to say things were pretty quiet on the phone/texting front the first four months of my engagement. And then unexpectedly one night, I heard from the Stalker. Again. Out of the blue he contacted me, I told him I was engaged, and things were silent. From that moment on. Until the other night.

I love phones! (Not.) Their connections are so unexpected.

I received a mystery text, “Are you married yet?” Followed one hour later by, “Hi,” questions about where I was (home), was I going to bed (nope, too much housework), and an invitation to meet for a drink! I thanked him for asking, but told him I was still engaged. He said, “Oh, I did not know you were engaged,” (guess he forgot about the previous 9 months), then “When are you getting married?”

Isn’t THAT the million dollar question? And it came to me, courtesy of a phone. And my Stalker!

“I’m not just any stalker, I’m YOUR stalker.” (Unknown)

Every four months. Like clockwork. In my unexpected life.

What wasn’t unexpected, however, was #5′s response to the following question: “So, when you’re engaged, does that mean it’s inappropriate to meet a stalker for a drink?” He shook his head and smiled at me, made a joke about my “friendly” dating past, and we both laughed as he said, “Andrea, you’re NOT going!”

I sort of expected that.

Farewell To Joe

Date: August 2, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I have to take a break from the unexpected life, single scene, dating, dances, and men to pay homage to an important member of my family I’ve never written about.

Joe.

Our dog.

A gigantic white lab (more like a miniature horse) with the best looking dog face I’ve ever seen. In fact, when my oldest son saw the movie “Marley and Me” his only comment was that our dog was much better looking than the movie’s star! Our canine star, however, hated water, was afraid of a lot of things, but tried to protect us by barking a fierce bark (yet gave himself away with a tail that never quit wagging.) He LOVED all people!

When our world fell apart in 2009, and our unexpected life began, believe it or not, in addition to all of the worries I was trying to balance, I was worried about our dog. I didn’t know where we would be living (much less if our living situation would be conducive to a dog), I didn’t know what we’d be eating (much less if we’d be able to afford dog food) and I knew we really couldn’t afford a dog, but I just felt I had to do everything in my power to allow my children to keep their pet. They were losing everything else and as crazy as it may sound to some, I hoped and prayed, for my children’s sake, that they wouldn’t have to lose their dog too!

We were blessed to end up in a home in Utah with a fenced backyard. So my children kept their dog for awhile. And then Joe developed a health condition that had no guaranteed fix. Our only choice was to free him from the extreme pain he was in. And as the only adult in my little family, it fell to me to take him to the veterinary clinic that final time.

I have always dreaded a moment like that.

Just when I thought we were healed, we had to lose our Marley.

In the terrible moments of 2009, in the height of my despair and when there was nothing I could do but endure my pain, sometimes I just had to get away from my life. A couple of times, when it was THAT bad, I jumped in the car and drove the country roads near my old neighborhood. Sometimes I simply had to get away from the stranger I had allowed to remain in my home, quickly, and so late at night I’d go outside to be alone.

I’d sit outside in the pitch black dark and mourn my losses. I mourned the end of the only life I had known as an adult. I’d worry myself sick about the future and all that lay ahead. I’d cry. I’d pray. I felt more alone than I imagined it was possible to feel. And then, in the midst of the pain of my grieving (and wallowing in my misery) I’d hear a thump and find a giant white head attached to a wet black nose in my lap. Despite how I felt, another manifestation that I wasn’t alone.

Joe. There for me. In the literal and figurative darkness of my new unexpected life.

That was all I could think about as drove to the clinic and as I sat in the examination room the last few moments of Joe’s life.

My oldest son was with me too. As we sat in the room, he looked at me with tears streaming down his cheeks and told me how Joe had been there for him always, but especially during the terrible events of last year, when my son didn’t know what he was going to do or how our new and unexpected life could be his. He told me how he’d lay on his bedroom floor by Joe and cry. And how Joe had helped him carry on.

Boy, Joe was a busy dog. Especially last year. I’d had no idea all that he had been up to.

Joe was there for me. Joe was there for my oldest son. Joe was there for all of my children when they needed him. And in the end, although I couldn’t be there for him to miraculously save his life (like I felt he deserved after all he’d done for me), my oldest son and I were there for him as he departed.

Sometimes I hate being an adult and having to make adult decisions. But it’s a part of life.

Another unexpected aspect of my farewell to Joe was the thought of another person who flashed across my mind in those final moments. I couldn’t believe it. It will probably make me look psychotic, but this blog is my attempt to share the whole truth and nothing but the truth of my unexpected life. So here goes.

I thought of Him.

Shawn Merriman.

And this is what I thought: “I should hate him for putting me in this position. For making it so I have to endure this, too.”

I couldn’t believe it had been one year and He came to mind. You remember your former spouse at the oddest and most unexpected moments. At least, I did. And then, just as quickly, I pushed that thought out of my mind.

I went into this whole unexpected life determined not to hate and I still feel that way. I believe it’s the right thing to do.

Life. It’s unexpected. There’s nothing better. And yet, there’s nothing more difficult, at times, too.

All I know is that you have to keep looking for the good. You must keep counting your blessings. You have to forgive. You can’t hate. And you must keep pressing forward and carrying on, ideally, with a smile.