Living Happily Ever After
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The Power of a Cape and a Hairdo

Date: November 9, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

My youngest is the most indecisive trick-or-treater I’ve ever known. Every year it’s an ordeal to get him to commit to what he wants to be for Halloween. Every year he assures me his decision is final. And every year he changes his mind at the last minute and ends up being something different.

Funny thing, though, his approach usually works out quite well for him. Like the year he scrapped his real costume on our way out the door to a party and instead wore an old puppy costume from the dress up box…and ended up winning the costume contest and a really nice prize that went with it!

This year was no different.

He wore his “real” costume, a skeleton, the day before Halloween to his 1st grade choir concert and that was enough for him to decide he was going to be something else the next day: a superhero. “Which one?” I asked, and he didn’t hesitate a moment before responding, “I’ll just wear my ‘J’ cape.”

Superjake.

So he went as himself to school the next day, in ordinary clothing underneath his superhero cape, his hair three different, dazzling and bright superhero colors—blue, purple and green! And of course, by the time it was time to go trick-or-treating that night, he was wearing a different costume again…an old costume from the dress up drawer…another puppy.

Watching Superjake, just being himself at a time not many people were, inspired me. And it got me remembering, again, that everyone has the capacity to be a hero. We can do anything. We can endure and triumph over everything, including our challenges; the unexpected life.

“What I do is based on powers we all have inside us, the ability to endure, the ability to love, to carry on, to make the best of what we have—and you don’t have to be a ‘Superman’ to do it.” (Christopher Reeve)

It just adds to the viewing pleasure of others if we do it wearing a cape…and superhero hair. Never underestimate the power of a hairdo.

Happy Valentine’s Day

Date: March 13, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“There is no feeling more comforting and consoling than knowing you are right next to the one you love.” (Anonymous)

If you’re counting (like apparently I am) last month was my third Valentine’s Day with my husband as well as the month of our first wedding anniversary. I had to laugh at how far we’ve come since our first Valentine’s Day together: February 14, 2010.

That was the year my co-workers (my best friends in Utah who helped see me through some very difficult adjustments; good, handsome, sharp married men with wisdom beyond their years as well as beautiful families) caught me on my way out the door as I was heading home for a date that night to ask, “Andrea, what’s the story with Mike? MANY others have come and gone while he has quietly hung in there, what’s up with that?” So I spent the next several minutes explaining nothing was going on, we were just friends—that he was just a very nice older man ( he’d had long hair and beard–a white beard–due to a theater role he was doing when I met him; I had never been a fan of facial hair, so I didn’t really look beyond that!) who felt bad for me, a divorced single mother of four children with no money who didn’t know anyone in her new home in Utah and that he was simply providing social experiences for me. My friends disagreed. They told me Mike was a man and men don’t do things like that; men always have a plan. I argued against that and their male logic…only to arrive home that night to a beautiful bouquet of roses that had been delivered to me with wishes for a Happy Valentine’s Day—from Mike. (That was also the night he warned me things were about to change in our relationship. Needless to say, they did!)

2011. That was the year we had been engaged for 9 months. We had a simple but fun evening together, however our big anticipation was our pending wedding (which ended up taking place, sort of unexpectedly, less than two weeks later.) Our Valentine’s celebration consisted of going to a late dinner by ourselves and then he surprised me with the first accessory item he ever purchased for me: a black, fringed, handbag. He got the black part right (I have always loved black), and because he’d seen me with a handbag that had fringed tassels probably assumed I was into fringe on purses. He was partly right, I do appreciate fringed tassels—on Gucci bags. It was just the long, hairy, fringy aspect of the entire purse he gave me that I wasn’t so sure about. He told me the story of the bag purchase, he told me I could return it for a different one, I thanked him for his thoughtfulness but at that stage of our relationship, I didn’t dare return it. So I  tried to make the bag work with my style and that effort lasted one week. Because everywhere I went, those who loved and cared about me offered to take care of that purse for me! I retired the handbag to my closet where it awaits just the perfect occasion…I’m thinking something along the lines of Halloween or a costume party. (Hint: When you’re handbag shopping for your fiancee, all of your children tell you a certain purse is “ugly” and only the totally unique, eclectically-styled and funky girl that can get away with anything and make it look cute disagrees, it may be best to make that a situation where the majority rules!)

2012. Our first Valentine’s Day married! My husband made reservations for us to eat at The Grill at Sundance resort (the restaurant we ate at the night we got engaged.) With 8 kids between us and limited funds, I assumed dinner would be our entire celebration. However unexpectedly, at work, I heard a voice behind me say, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Andrea!” and I turned around to find the receptionist at my company, beaming, as she excitedly handed me a beautiful bouquet of roses that had been delivered. Then a teddy bear arrived. Then chocolates arrived. Then my husband surprised me by coming home from work “early” (closer to 5 p.m. instead of his usual closer-to-6 p.m.) so we got to spend extra time together—my favorite part of the day—but the gifts kept coming, too. My husband totally outdid himself making me feel loved and special all day. It was my best Valentine’s Day ever!

I went to sleep that night later than usual, exhausted from working all day and staying out late that night on a date with my husband, but feeling so happy, content and loved in my unexpected life. The last thought I remember having as I drifted off to sleep that night was gratitude for a husband who put so much thought and effort into making me feel special and loved, not just every day but also on Valentine’s Day. Before I fell asleep I managed to whisper, “Thanks for everything you did for me today,” and the last thing I remember hearing, as I drifted off, was my husband’s quiet reply, “You’re welcome. Thank you for being my valentine.”

Sigh. Love.

“Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.” (William Shakespeare)

Totally.

I just never saw it coming when I was thrust into my unexpected life. How grateful I am that I hung on through the clouds, the storm and the utter devastation of my world until the sun came out again.

Hang in there!

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)

The Unexpected Life We Call Halloween

Date: October 31, 2010  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)

Sometimes the unexpected life feels like Halloween.

You’re thrust into a situation that feels strangely akin to a nightmare. It’s dark. You’re afraid. You can’t figure out how you got there. You wonder how you’ll ever overcome all of the scary things that jump out at you around every corner. And the best part? You feel like such a loser.

I wish I had all of the secrets and answers to dealing with the unexpected life. A magic formula that takes the fear away, boosts self-esteem so no one feels like the loser I did and makes success despite the unexpected obstacles guaranteed. Unfortunately, I don’t think anything like that exists. If it did, there would be no unexpected life.

But here’s one thing that helped me: despite my unexpected life, I didn’t change my goals. I had to adjust my expectations regarding my starting point, how long it would take me to achieve them and I had to acknowledge I would be reaching my goals in entirely different ways; but I didn’t abandon them.

My mom taught me that. She said unexpected things happen, but you have to keep living and striving to reach your goals. For example, you might be a college student with a “scholarship” funded by your father–when he dies unexpectedly in an airplane crash and you lose not only your parent, but your source of advice, your biggest fan and your financial backing for everything. In the unexpected life, it’s vital that you don’t quit; you can’t abandon your goal. You just have to figure out new ways to achieve it. You sell your car, you get a job, you get a second job, you take as many credit hours as you possibly can and go to classes year-round to finish faster, you don’t take a vacation, you quit shopping; you do whatever it takes to graduate with your degree. (I promise, it will serve you well when the next phase of your unexpected life hits decades later! So NEVER abandon your goal.)

By not quitting, you are on the path to eventual greatness. “Greatness is not measured by what a man or woman accomplishes, but by the opposition he or she has overcome to reach his goals.” (Dorothy Height)

When my unexpected life hit last year, quitting wasn’t an option. As much as in some moments I felt like walking off into the sunset alone and dropping off the face of the earth, I couldn’t let myself do that. I knew what was expected of me, I knew the right response, I had children who needed me, I had my children to set an example for, so I had to carry on. My goals remained the same: raise a strong and united family; help my children grow to become law abiding (o.k., so I added that to my goals–I hadn’t considered any other course was an option prior to my ex-husband breaking the law!) productive, capable, self-reliant adults; educate my children; and achieve happiness, seeking to be happy all along the way. In other words, create a “happily ever after.”

Doing all of that can be difficult. Scary is an understatement. Some days you don’t know how it will be possible, how things will fall into place the way you need them to. In fact, sometimes they don’t, and you have additional challenges to overcome. But you press forward anyway, power through the hard stuff, try to smile along the way and hopefully, eventually, walk out into the light!

It’s no secret. Some moments all you can do is pray, seek to find something to be grateful for, “go to work” and endure the rest until you overcome.

But I promise it’s worth it.

Like the end of every episode of “Scooby Doo,” when the ghosts and monsters have been quashed and Fred, Daphne, Velma, Shaggy and Scooby are rolling down the highway in The Mystery Machine and everything’s groovy again, it will be that way again for you, too. One day you’ll have employment, a roof over your head, food on the table, you’ll see your children thriving despite everything and that they’ve learned important things that will serve them well the rest of their lives, that the smiles are real again and that you’re happy. Possibly happier and more content than you’ve ever been. (And if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll even have a Bachelor #5 or an Agent M to boot!)

Who knows? In the unexpected life, EVERYTHING is possible!

“Hold on, man.  We don’t go anywhere with “scary,” “spooky,” “haunted,” or “forbidden” in the title.”  (Scooby-Doo)

Except…in the unexpected life.

An Aside: Not So Bad

Date: June 14, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Bachelor #1 suggested we go to a Halloween party/dance and that we go as a “couple” in matching costumes. His idea? He dress as Clark Kent, and I go as Lois Lane. Lois Lane?

Although I have one sister who lives Halloween practically all year long, and my other sister is an artist and creates amazing new costumes every year, I’ve never been that way. I’m not super creative when it comes to Halloween. I wasn’t even as a kid. I preferred to be a witch or a gypsy, something easy, and I was fine with that. It worked for me. Didn’t require a lot of thought or advance planning, and I’ve always liked the color black. (It worked so well, I even won a costume contest at my church halloween party in high school: “Sexiest Witch” or something like that–I didn’t even know churches gave awards in that category. However, I missed experiencing it in person, because I left in the middle of the party to go to a haunted house with a boy. When we returned to the party, I was surprised when my mom handed me my prize!)

Since I was living a very unexpected life, and a single life anyway, I agreed to be Lois Lane. I was living totally out of my comfort zone every minute of every day as it was. What was a mere Halloween challenge? But how to be Lois Lane? I didn’t have a clue.

Thanks goodness I work in marketing, with clever and creative younger men. I showed up at work one day, told them my dilemma, and within minutes not only had they googled Lois Lane and told me what to wear, they’d printed off some sample pictures I could copy my look from! (If I haven’t said it enough, I absolutely love the men I work with.)

So I was off to transform myself into Lois Lane. It was quite a change from my usual as Lois Lane had dark hair. So I found a dark wig and prepared other Lois Lane essentials…but first, had to be in charge of my congregation’s trunk or treat Halloween party–after working in another city all day. (Halloween 2009 was my most hectic, to say the least!)

I worked all day, drove home from work, helped round up my children and their costumes, my trunk or treat candy, my food assignments for the church party dinner, and headed to the church an hour early to decorate and get it ready. I did the church party for two hours and left at 8 p.m. to transform myself into Lois Lane. In the middle of my costume preparations, I had to run pick up my daughter from dance rehearsal so she could babysit for me. It was 25 minutes, roundtrip, I wasn’t completely transformed yet, and Bachelor #1 was due to arrive in 30 minutes. Racing to the dance studio, I hit road construction. (More delays.)

My heart and my mind were racing. (Like I said, I had a lot going on that night.) Finally, I was almost there. One last stoplight to wait through and I’d be at the dance studio, picking up my daughter, and heading home. The light turned green, I drove through the intersection, and the next thing I knew the lights of a policeman were flashing in my rear-view mirror. I couldn’t figure out who he was after, so I pulled over to get out of the way. To my surprise, he pulled up behind me and came to my car.

He asked if I knew why he had pulled me over.

I was stunned. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized he was after me! Oops.

I said I honestly had no idea. He told me I was driving without my lights on. WHAT? I felt like the biggest idiot. I’ve never been that technologically talented, or very good with cars, but I did think I knew how to turn the lights on. And according to my understanding of the car I’d been driving for the past few months, the lights were on. I tried to explain that to the policeman. He had me turn the lights on, I thought I was turning the lights on, then he would check the front of my car and tell me they weren’t on. (Can you imagine what an intelligent blonde he would have thought I was? Thank goodness I was wearing a dark wig! lol)

I was embarrassed and felt quite dumb. I explained I was newly single, and clueless about cars, and would he mind showing me how to turn the lights on in my car? (Wasn’t that lovely to have to ask when you’ve been driving and turning car lights on for 26 years without a problem–until you get divorced?) He laughed, fiddled around with the light switches and finally said, “Actually, I think BOTH of your light bulbs must be burned out, because I think your lights ARE on.” Whew. What a relief to know I had known how to turn my car lights on!

He then told me he’d pulled me over for another reason too. He said I’d sat through a very long red light, and then simply drove through the intersection when the green turn arrow turned green! A giant oops. I’d had no idea I’d done that. My mind must have been elsewhere–like on all of the things I had to rush to finish before “Superman” arrived. And there I sat feeling like an even bigger idiot in my Halloween costume–dressed as Lois Lane. I wondered what the cop was thinking. I soon found out.

He asked for my license and registration. I was getting a ticket. But as soon as I reached for my license and registration, I knew I was getting a lot more than that. I was pretty sure I was heading to jail!

It was a new car (to me), with temporary tags, so I had no registration yet. I didn’t remember that until the cop asked for it. I explained that situation–about buying the car in Colorado, moving to Utah, the paperwork getting delayed in Colorado, so Utah couldn’t issue my license plates yet, etc… He let that go, and asked, again, to see my driver’s license. I reached for my purse to get my driver’s license. And discovered in my rush, in the hectic frenzy of the night, I’d left the house without it. The cop told me he could look it up. But that’s when I realized I had another problem: as I’d recently moved to Utah, I hadn’t changed my Colorado driver’s license to Utah yet! I asked if he could look up a license in another state–Colorado–and explained that whole situation to the policeman. I’m not sure what he was thinking as he looked at me. I couldn’t tell if he was trying not to laugh or if he was reaching for the handcuffs. Thankfully, instead he looked at me, shook his head, and said, “Tell me, do you at least have insurance on your car?”

Finally, a question I could answer with proof! I was mortified that I was looking so incapable and incompetent (and stupid) but I handed the insurance card over to the cop and he walked away. I sat there in the dark, in a panic, that not only was I totally late and looking like a lunatic, but that I was going to get a ticket and would never be able to afford car insurance after that! I started feeling bleak indeed. Waiting that terrible wait (although thanks to the unexpected events of 2009, waiting for the ticket verdict wasn’t as terrible as it could have been as I’d had a few perspective-altering experiences much larger than that in 2009, but I was panicked about the cost of a ticket and the impact it would have on my insurance rates) I started feeling a bit bad for myself. I was doing all I could to support my family and be a good employee, I was serving my church, I was trying to get everyone to everything all by myself (and that night have a little fun myself) and now this. A traffic ticket as my reward.

The policeman returned to my car, smiled, told me to be careful and have a safe night. No ticket. I was one fortunate (and blessed) single mom that night.

I drove carefully away, in the dark, without headlights, picked up my daughter, finally got home and amazingly was ready just in time for Clark Kent!

We had a great time that Halloween. But what I remember most about that night was that I was starting to see my new and unexpected life was…not so bad.

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Bachelor #1

Date: June 11, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Wrong.

Bachelor #1 woke me up the next morning with a text thanking me for the date. Called me that day, texted me all day, called me during the week in the evenings while he was away on business, and dated me every weekend after that. The rebound relationship had begun!

After the first week of dating, I realized I hadn’t cried in one week. For the first time since March 18, 2009, I had gone one entire week without tears. I hadn’t remembered to cry because I hadn’t felt like crying! I was healing. So what did I do? I cried. In disbelief and gratitude!

Bachelor #1 was a good man and a very decent person. He was also very fun. But I couldn’t help noticing things moved a little too fast for my comfort. I didn’t know if it was the man, or the age, but I was very overwhelmed all of the time at how different things were from the 1980s!

I’m sure everyone who has spent time with me since the nightmare began, has heard me say that. I guess because it’s my biggest shock. All of my single experience, my entire dating frame of reference, last took place over 20 years ago. So I’m constantly amazed at the difference just two decades makes! (Wait. Did I just say that? Nothing makes you sound old like being able to refer to two entire decades as a frame of reference.)

Anyway, Bachelor #1 gave me lots of encouragement. He told me I could be engaged in two weeks and married in less than three months if I wanted to be. (I was too shocked at that comment to even respond.) He told me he was there for me and willing to partner with me in raising my children. (THAT one surprised me. He’d never met them, had just met me, and was offering that? I pretended I didn’t hear that, either.) But mostly he just entertained me and made me laugh. He said unexpected, friendly things a newly single mother of four needed to hear.

For example, during the time I dated Bachelor #1 the pastor of my new congregation called me in to meet with him and asked me to serve our congregation in a particular assignment. I told Bachelor #1 I got an opportunity to serve my new congregation and told him to guess my new assignment. Without missing a beat or batting an eye he said, “As the congregation hottie!” NOT EVEN. (But it did make me laugh.)

He also introduced me to many new, fun things about the city I had moved to; helped me get to know my surroundings a little bit; took me on lots of fun dates, took me dancing, celebrated Halloween with me by dressing as Clark Kent (and had me dress as Lois Lane), etc…

However, there were some insecurities. The man had been married, and married more than once (I couldn’t believe how common that is these days–it has actually been very rare for me to meet men who have been married just one time.) He told me several times how jealous he was of my 20-year marriage, the long and stable life I’d enjoyed married to someone I’d had children with. Bachelor #1 had never experienced that and said he was jealous of me. (I told him not to be jealous, the 20-year marriage had ended rather disastrously for me! But the longer I’ve been single, and the more people I’ve met who never had anything like that, the more I understand that comment now.)

He also told me he felt very inferior in his ability to provide in a manner to which I was accustomed. He had googled me after he learned my story, and the media coverage was very thorough in detailing the lifestyle members of our family had enjoyed. But what they missed, and what many people don’t understand, is that it wasn’t really MY lifestyle. The art, the cars, the motorhome, the jewelry, and so many of the “things” were never my idea. I hadn’t asked for them, I hadn’t desired them, and I hadn’t purchased them. Many times, they simply arrived at the house because my former spouse had purchased them. In fact, if our marriage had any contention in it, it was over “stuff.” Things He wanted, and all of the things I didn’t want us to have or be responsible for. Sure, I enjoyed travel and shopping at Nordstrom, but I also shopped at Target.

I’d never been a worldly person; I’d learned the utter worthlessness of worldly possessions as a teenager–but that’s another blog for some other day. All I could say to Bachelor #1 about the lifestyle and any man’s ability to provide in an equal way was my view of the “providing” I’d experienced: it actually hadn’t been “providing” at all. Turns out, it was theft. And crime is nothing to feel inferior toward!

Like any rebound relationship, however, it wasn’t meant to last.

One night, about six weeks into the relationship, he drove me to see a home he’d found to buy. He said the only thing it needed was a fence to keep young children safe. (He didn’t have young children, I did.) Then he took me somewhere else to ask if I thought I could love him forever, etc… (Marriage Proposal #1.)

Right then, things came to a silent, screeching halt for me. I know that at my age, and with all of the technology we have to get to know people and to keep in touch, you get to know people much faster than previous times–like the 80s. But I had to be honest. I told him at that point, I just knew that he was very nice and fun and that I liked him.

He told me it had to end, then, because he couldn’t take any more risk and hurt. I offered to continue to spend time together as friends and he thanked me for that, but declined, saying it was already too painful for him to continue. The end.

Thank you, Bachelor #1.

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