Living Happily Ever After
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Humpty Dumpty

Date: May 25, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“When I use a word,’ Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, ‘it means just what I choose it to mean – neither more nor less.” (Lewis Carroll)

It’s nursery rhyme day in my son’s kindergarten class. All kinds of fun is planned—including the opportunity for each child to recite their favorite nursery rhyme! In helping my son prepare for his big moment of recitation, I was surpassed to learn that Humpty Dumpty is his favorite nursery rhyme. (Don’t ask me why I thought one about a spider or rolling down a hill or dogs and bones might appeal to him more, lets just say I was wrong!)

“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men,
Couldn’t put Humpty together again.”

You can learn a lot from Humpty and his unexpected adventure; his fall. Who knew nursery rhymes could be such great life lessons?

It’s like this. We all take a “fall” or experience at least one failure in our lives. (Lucky me, I’ve had many! I’ve survived some big ones!) Some falls are self-inflicted by the poor choices we make, others are thrust upon us through the choices of others. Some falls occur because we tried our hardest but sadly, still fell short. Others occur by “accident” or in the natural course of life or living. But regardless of how we get them, we still get to experience them—to lose someone or some thing (or in extreme cases, pretty much everything!) That falls happen is a given, it’s what you do with them that counts. And that’s the key to every fall: YOU.

Humpty fell off the wall and no one could do one thing about it. Nobody else could put him back together. It was up to Humpty to decide his fate: cracked, forever fallen or rebuild. Sure, others would be there for him and his friends, I’m sure, would do everything they could to support him and be there for him; but it was up to Humpty to do it. Just like it’s up to each of us to pick ourselves up and carry on after a fall.

I’ve learned for myself that you can survive anything if you choose to. I’ve seen firsthand that total devastation doesn’t have to mean absolute ruin forever. I believe there is darkness, but I also believe that after even extreme darkness and heartache and devastation can come dawn—light, life, healing, happiness and joy! If you think your dreams are shattered, pick up a broken piece of one and work to put something together again.

If you do that, I firmly believe you’ll succeed. Just don’t be too surprised when the outcome of your effort, the ending, the “happily ever after” you create from the shard shard of devastation you’re left with is every bit as good (and sometimes even better!) than your previous dream.

“If one dream should fall and break into a thousand pieces,  never be afraid to pick one of those pieces up and begin again.” (Flavia Weedn)

It’s the unexpected life. Full of adventures you never dreamed of, but that add to the rich tapestry of your experiences, as you weave a life story even Humpty Dumpty would envy.

Bad Day

Date: May 2, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Less is more.” (Ludwig Mies van der Rohe)

My youngest is in kindergarten; six years old going on 26 (he thinks, and always has, I assume because of his older siblings.) Needless to say, with his siblings all quite a bit older than him , he knows the latest dance moves of high school and college students as well as the words to the most current, hip music but as such, he has never been that into toys; mostly he just tears all of them out of his closet into a mess on the floor and then leaves to go play outside!

Working mother that I am, I confess, most of the time it ALL stays there for several days as I risk breaking my neck each night, carefully stepping over the disaster zone to tuck him in bed, until the weekend when I muster the energy to help him clean it all up again! Not too long ago, the mess was particularly horrendous and my son decided he wanted to sack it all up and give it away to charity rather than clean it all up again. So we did.

We cleaned the toys out, put his room back in order and I had him haul the sacks out to the car to be delivered to his charity of choice. He returned from the task, crying. I asked him what was wrong. He replied, “I’m having the worst day! I’m really struggling! I don’t have any toys left!”

We had a little pep talk. I showed him that I actually had, in all of my motherly wisdom, saved a few things I knew he might want to play with in the future (despite his insistence, at the time, that he wanted every single toy gone so he wouldn’t have to ever clean his room again!) and the sacks remained in the car.

I believe that while his initial adjustment may be difficult (like me adjusting to my unexpected life) he’ll get used to it. He’ll see very quickly that less really IS more: more of what’s important; more, in that it’s all you need. Less gives you more hours in your day. Less destresses. Less frees you to appreciate the simple things and to actually have time for them. I recommend it.

I believe that “less” actually is “more” so strongly that if you don’t anticipate discovering your spouse has been leading a double life, is heading to prison and that the U.S. Marshalls are going to help you “clean out” and “declutter” your life of “things” in the very near future, I highly recommend you do it on your own— although perhaps not to the extent my life was “decluttered”! (lol)

See for yourself what I’m talking about.

“A lot of people tend to chew up the scenery. I’m a firm believer in less is more, especially on the big screen.” (Mark Wahlberg)

Especially in the unexpected life.

Boys—And The Occasional Lapse In Common Sense

Date: February 13, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Everybody gets so much information all day long that they lose their common sense.” (Gertrude Stein)

And if raising sons has taught me anything at all that the rowdy twin brothers I was raised with failed to do, it’s this: boys not only think very differently than girls (in my experience), they occasionally have a lapse in common sense!

My oldest child was an energetic child. His antics led me to many unexpected experiences—like the time I took him to a McDonald’s play land and while he was in a tunnel, I watched children stream from every colorful plastic opening, running and screaming in terror in the race back to the safety of their mothers’s arms. I watched mothers attempt to comfort their crying children as they complained of a “beast” in the tunnel, and before I knew what was happening, out came my son: growling, hissing, clawing the air with his hands, roaring for all he was worth and looking as fierce as a 3 or four-year-old possibly can. Followed shortly afterward by all mothers’ eyes upon me in condemnation for raising such a child who would behave in such a way. I was mortified! It was a long time before I dared let him venture back to a play land. (Probably a healthier choice for him anyway.)

But I realized a few months ago, when confronting the behavior of my second son, that for all my oldest son’s energy, creativity and questionable boyhood antics that led to a few broken bones and several surgeries over the course of his life, he still made it through high school graduation without a single visit to the principal’s office.

Wish I could say the same about his younger brothers!

Shortly around the time my youngest ditched kindergarten a few months ago (which resulted into a trip to the principal’s office) I got a call from my middle son. He called from school, crying so hard he could hardly speak, and all I could understand was, “I’ve made a terrible mistake, I’m so sorry!” over and over again.

You know, it’s interesting. Having lived through some of the lovely adventures that have been mine in the course of my life, particularly since my first husband dropped the Ponzi scheme bomb that destroyed my world and others in 2009 and revealed the double life he had been leading and the crimes he had committed, I have some crazy “automatic” responses. When I got the call I was mentally thrust into a different time, and instead of reacting like a normal mother (I assume normal mothers worry about…what? Missing the bus, or a missing homework assignment?) my mind immediately races to thoughts of big lies, cheating, stealing, serious betrayal and behavior worthy of prison time. I think, “Oh no! It has finally happened! I knew this was coming, that THIS is how the trauma my children lived through is going to manifest itself.” It’s a crazy split second or two until I calm my psyche and ask, “What happened?” never letting on that my mind has already imagined the worst.

Turns out, my middle son had gotten in a fight at school on the playground! I guess the bright side of it was that he had chosen to confront a boy well-known for bullying students and who had been in several fights at school already (if school yard gossip can be relied upon at all), and after my son had turned to adults at the school for help and the situation didn’t change, my son took matters into his own hands and decided to take a stand. I was shocked at how intentional the decision was: the boys had scheduled their “fight” via Facebook! And both showed up at the appointed place and time, the next day, to follow through.

Needless to say, my middle son sent his last Facebook message that day. When I got home from work, I told him to write his last internet communication—a Facebook message apology to the boy—to send it and then suspend his account, and to prepare to go to the boys’ home and also apologize in person. I ended the conversation with something about how disappointed I was by his choices and how poorly his actions reflected not just upon himself, but upon our family and the type of mother people will assume he has because of his behavior! (My husband let me handle it, but had his own questions: like, did my son get any good punches in before school officials broke up the fight? Men! Boys!)

Both boys apologized, shook hands and agreed to go to school the next day and let everyone know they had worked things out. Make that TWO visits to the principal’s office for this son (he called 9-1-1 from an old cell phone of his dad’s that “didn’t work” while out on the school playground with his friends in Colorado, trip #1, followed by a visit from the sheriff who responded to the call; and enjoyed excursion #2 six years later because he got into a boxing match with a bully in Utah) but all’s well that ends well, right? As long as a good lesson was learned!

“To me, boxing is like a ballet, except there’s no music, no choreography, and the dancers hit each other.” (Jack Handy)

Snakes, snails, puppy dog tails, Facebook fights, boxing matches, visits to the principal’s office and occasional lapses in common sense aside, I love my boys and the opportunity that is mine to be their mother. My greatest effort and work will be, I hope, in raising my boys to become amazing men—upstanding citizens, good husbands and wonderful fathers.

Despite, or perhaps because of, the unexpected life…and their occasional lapses in common sense!

While Mother’s Away…

Date: February 5, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

A woman realizes her son has not yet gotten out of bed for school. She goes into his bedroom and tells him to get up or he will miss breakfast. ”No,” the son replies. “I don’t wanna go to school!” ”You HAVE to go to school,” the mother scolds.

“No! The kids are mean to me, the teachers don’t like me, and the lunches are icky.” ”You WILL go to school, young man,” the mother warns. ”Why? Why do I have to go to school today?” the son asks. The mother is about to lose her patience: “Because you’re the principal, now get out of bed!”

Yes, that’s sort of what happened during my cruise. Only I wasn’t home with my son—and it was my kindergarten-age son that ditched school! I NEVER expected that one! Yes, while I was on my husband’s birthday cruise experiencing karaoke and all kinds of adventures, my children were at home in Utah, one having adventures of his own!

My high school-age daughter is sharp, efficient, independent and always has been. (She could run our home and family smoothly by the time she was in 5th grade without my help, but I’m thankful she lets me hang around to attempt to do my part!)  While we were gone, she had everything under control—drove her siblings to daycare and school, went to school herself, picked up her siblings after school, supervised them, fed them, helped with homework, cleaned the house, did the laundry, and took care of everything related to the running of the family in my absence. My children were in good hands. And then I got an unexpected email. (We couldn’t get phone service on our cruise.) The email reported certain delinquent behavior…of my kindergartener!

Apparently, he’d been dropped off at school by his daycare (like he is every day) and headed through the doors of the school. Before my son went into his classroom, however, he decided he didn’t “feel” like going to school that day so he and a friend who also didn’t feel like going to school that day, headed off on an adventure. While I’ve never had a child do something like that and never expected to have one do something like that, thank goodness I live in Utah and thank goodness I have good neighbors! Mid-afternoon my neighbor was driving in the town next to ours…and saw my son walking on the side of the road! She picked him up, took him home and kept him until my daughter got home from school.

By the time I was able to reach my children by phone, my daughter had handled it: she had marched her brother to the school office to tell the principal what he had done and apologize for his poor choice; she had taken him home, grounded him from playing with friends and had taken away some other privileges as a consequence of his wrong decision; she had talked to him about his behavior AND called her older college-age brother to come home for a visit that evening to talk to the offender, again, about family expectations regarding school attendance. By the time I finally got to speak with my youngest son, he was very penitent; but I reiterated my impression of his incorrect choice and behavior again anyway, just to make sure there would NEVER be a repeat occurrence!

Kindergarten delinquent. (For a day.) WHO raises a child like that? Apparently, me. And given what we’ve lived through, holding myself back from over-reacting is a struggle. It’s a challenge for me, sometimes, to remain calm about it all. I have to make the effort to refrain from panicking. Sometimes I have to mentally calm myself down before reacting to what I once deemed “typical” childhood learning experiences (telling a lie, stealing a coin or a piece of candy or other similar behaviors.) I’m desperate for my children to avoid the mistakes made by their other parent. I’ll never give up my quest to teach my children to make correct choices, to be obedient, to follow the rules and to grow up to be honest, good, law abiding citizens that are a force for good in the world—especially given the example set by someone else once close to them.

“Hey, Cameron. You realize if we played by the rules right now we’d be in gym?” (Ferris Bueller, “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off”)

I’m a huge fan of playing by the rules and obeying the law.
Despite, or because of, the unexpected life.

Dressed To Spectate, But…

Date: September 6, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Coaching is easy. Winning is the hard part.” (Elgin Baylor)

My youngest is playing soccer, for the first time, this fall. It’s something he has been begging to participate in for a couple of years, so we decided to try it this year. As the start of the season approached, I began getting emails from the league, “Your child has been placed on a team. However, we still need a coach, an assistant coach, and a team parent for your child’s team. Please volunteer.”

I confess, I ignored those requests. I was a basketball player; I never played soccer, I knew nothing about the game (other than I think you can’t touch the ball with your hands); not to mention the fact that I work full-time in another city from where the soccer practices and games take place.

As the day of the first game approached, the same emails kept coming. I finally responded with one of my own: “I’ve never played soccer, I know nothing about soccer, but I am willing to coach if you need me to,” thinking surely, one of those dads of the boys on the team would volunteer! I didn’t hear anything back, assumed a dad had stepped forward, and showed up at the first game. Expecting to spectate. To find out…I was the assistant coach!

I was dressed to spectate (in a skirt and flip flops), not coach, but I joined the boys on the field and did the best I could to provide encouragement, direction, to help control a little kindergarten boy-age chaos and propensity to wrestle even when they should be playing soccer and, of course, to learn the rules of the game. (Many thanks to Tyler, a little boy on my team, who coached the assistant coach that first game!)

We all survived the first soccer game. I’m not sure who won (I don’t think we keep score at this young age). I only know several boys on my team, including my son, scored goals; and that we had a very supportive cheerleader, my husband, cheering all of us on and making sure we had plenty of water during the breaks (especially the assistant coach) from the sidelines.

As I walked off the field at the end of the first game, all I could do was shake my head at ANOTHER unexpected adventure…in the unexpected life.

Life is like that, you know.

“Coaching in the NBA is not easy. It’s like a nervous breakdown with a paycheck.” (Pat Williams)

My experience is slightly easier than that, thank goodness! No paycheck, but no breakdowns, either. At least, not during that first game.

More to come.

Stay tuned.

Firsts

Date: August 30, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Whenever a thing is done for the first time, it releases a little demon.” (Emily Dickinson)

Firsts.

I’m living a lot of them lately.

My first child, my oldest son, “moved out” (just a few miles away) last weekend to attend Brigham Young University. He went to his first day of classes yesterday, called me as soon as the first one was over and said, “THIS IS GOING TO BE AWESOME!” (That was a first, too; to have him so excited about…school. He was my child who returned home from his first day of kindergarten to announce he didn’t need to go back, he’d learned everything there possibly was to learn that day!)

My middle son is playing his first football game of the season tonight. (Go, Timpanogos!)

My last child started a new daycare last week and begins kindergarten today. He is excited to go to school for the first time despite his oldest brother’s warning that said youngest brother’s life “is about to end.” (That’s how the oldest brother viewed school:)

As for the mother, I’m counting my blessings that I treasured every moment of childhood and motherhood since it all began over 18 years ago; and I’m trying hard not to cry too much too often (although I’m sure my boys would say I’m failing miserably at that one!) as I release my beloved “demons” to experience some firsts of their own.

Exciting times.

“Whenever I held my newborn baby in my arms, I used to think that what I said and did to him could have an influence not only on him but on all whom he met, not only for a day or a month or a year, but for all eternity – a very challenging and exciting thought for a mother.” (Rose Kennedy)

Of Life, Cereal And…Purple Milk

Date: August 2, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The team has come along slow but fast.” (Casey Stengel)

In 2009, circumstances dictated I form a new team: me and my four children, a new family unit headed by a single mother. We  nicknamed ourselves “The Five Musketeers.” Between us, we had enough for a basketball team–no substitutes.

Two years later, a lot has happened on and off the court of our unexpected life. We have new teammates, as well as many other unexpected blessings and adventures.

The other morning, my middle son was pouring himself some “Life” breakfast cereal. (Right now, it’s one of our favorites. We go through boxes of the stuff. As chief grocery shopper for our household, I find my mission impossible, too often, is trying to find cereal the kids love and want to eat at a price I can afford!) As my son poured the last of the box into his bowl he commented, “Life sure goes fast!”

My husband and I looked at each other and laughed. At the wisdom of eleven-year-olds. Although I’m pretty sure my son wasn’t trying to wax philosophical, he ended up doing it anyway. Because as my oldest prepares to “move out” and into his college dorm, at the same time, my youngest is entering kindergarten; both momentous occasions taking place in just three weeks. But I’m not laughing so hard anymore. Because I’m thinking breakfast cereal isn’t the only thing that doesn’t last.

“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look round once in a while, you could miss it.” (“Ferris Bueller’s Day Off”)

Yes, LIFE sure goes fast! Which makes me even more grateful for some wonderful advice my Nana gave me when she was in her 90s and I was a busy mother of a toddler and a baby. We were visiting in her home, she watched me jump up and down to help my children with various things as we chatted, and she sighed and said, “Treasure these moments. Treasure this time with your children. Of all the days you’ll live, these are your best days–the days you’re surrounded by those you love, the days you get to live with your children in your home. Out of all that I’ve lived and experienced, it’s those days that I treasure the most.”

My Nana grew up lighting candles to see, carrying hot bricks to place at the foot of her bed to keep her feet warm in the winter. As a girl, she traveled by horse and buggy, and later worked as a telephone operator (the kind you talked to to request a connection to a certain person), and saw the advent of automobiles, airplanes, dishwashers, washing machines, microwaves, television, computers and a man on the moon. She experienced some amazing things over the course of her life, yet out of all of it, she most treasured her time with her children when they were young.

How grateful I am that my Nana shared that counsel with me and that I chose to listen to it. Because life sure goes fast, cereal or otherwise!

“I won’t eat any cereal that doesn’t turn the milk purple.” (Bill Watterson) Not such a bad idea!

Too Late

Date: March 14, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“At a formal dinner party, the person nearest death should always be seated closest to the bathroom.” (George Carlin)

Or the person who got dumped. Just in case she needs to throw up.

While everyone dished food onto their plates and sat down to eat dinner, I discreetly went up to my bathroom and threw up! I did not want to go down to dinner, but I also didn’t want anyone to know anything was amiss. So I returned to the table, put a small amount of food on my plate, took one bite, tried to swallow and was quickly back upstairs for a second time.

As I lay on my bathroom floor, willing myself to feel better so I could rejoin the group and pretend everything was normal, I only had one thought: How am I going to live without him?

I couldn’t remember ever thinking that about a man before.

When I got engaged for the first time (in 1989) my aunt called to congratulate me and asked, “Tell me, can you live without him?” and my arrogant, youthful pride led me to respond, “Absolutely. I survived my dad dying. I can live without anyone.” And I thought I could. I married, and was happily married, for 20 years until Shawn Merriman revealed his Ponzi scheme, crimes and other betrayals which resulted in our divorce. But honestly, looking back at the time my life was collapsing in 2009, I remember being appalled at what my former husband had done, being terrified of government agents and prison for him and wondering how my children and I would live, but I don’t remember wondering how I would live without HIM. (Maybe His misdeeds, betrayals, and the selfishness, pride and greed that led to such overwhelming destruction took care of any feelings like that? Or maybe it’s because I feel differently about #5 than any other man I’ve ever known?)

Regardless, I lay on my bathroom floor crying, wondering how I was going to live without #5, knowing I’d come to the realization of how I truly felt about him WAY TOO LATE. He had dumped me. And I couldn’t even bear to think about what it was going to do to my kids, especially my youngest, who had just lost another “daddy” before he even started kindergarten.

“In kindergarten that used to be my job, to tell them fairytales. I liked Hans Christian Andersen, and the Grimm fairy tales, all the classic fairy tales.” (Francis Ford Coppola)

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)