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Second Marriage Moment #24: Spawned By Grass

Date: November 3, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The thing I love is that my home life hasn’t changed. I still help out with the garbage. I still help out with the lawn.” (Taylor Lautner)

You know what’s amazing about remarriage? It doesn’t change your life one bit. Seriously! (At least, that’s the sarcastic thought I had one day last summer shortly after lawn mowing season began.) The truth is, remarriage even complicates…lawn mowing.

I remember the days when mowing the lawn was simple. The lawn needs mowing? You do it— or assign one of your children to do it. Ah, the good old days.

One day earlier this year, the lawn at the Merriman-Ramsey house needed mowing. In an attempt to bring the children together and to give everyone an opportunity to contribute to the running of our household, a child from each family (one Merriman, one Ramsey) was assigned lawn mowing duty.We divided the assignment into two section, the front lawn and the back lawn. Simple, right? You’d think!

We’d been told by remarriage experts that (at least in the beginning of the relationship) the biological parent of each child in the family should be the parent to correct behavior, make assignments, etc…My husband was very good to follow this counsel (better than me, of course, but that’s a blog post for another time) so one day my husband called to request I remind my son to empty the grass bag when he was done mowing the lawn.

I obeyed, called my son and reminded him to empty the grass bag attached to the lawn mower. He argued about doing it, pointing out that the other lawn mower in the family didn’t do it after HE mowed, why should my son? He added that he was tired of cleaning up after the other lawn mower, too, but my son emptied the bag despite his grumbling.

I got another call to report the grass bag had been emptied—of the grass left by the other lawn mower. I remained calm and endured the comments, thinking the other lawn mower could probably say the same thing and hung up the phone thinking the lawn situation was taken care of. My son was hard at work mowing the lawn.

Not.

My son called a few minutes later and requested to mow the front lawn. Unfortunately, I had to deny that request. The other lawn-mowing son had already told his dad he wanted to mow the front lawn, his dad had called me and informed me of that already, so I told my son that job was taken and assigned him to mow the back yard. Grumbling, he hung up the phone and went to work—I assumed.

That assumption was corrected when I got another phone call. Apparently, my son had taken the initiative to inspect the front lawn! He reported that it was not up to par: patches of long grass were visible to the naked eye at every turn and periodically on the straightaways. He requested to re-mow the front lawn for his assignment.

Request denied.

He wasn’t a very happy lawn boy as he hung up the phone to go to work mowing the back lawn. I went back to work, assuming, again, everything was taken care of.

Wrong.

There were follow-up phone calls about fuel for the machine, the length of the grass, slope of the backyard and my son’s lack of enthusiasm for his assigned duty. When the back lawn was finished, I got another call to report its completion, along with a question, “Have you called to make sure the front lawn gets taken care of?”

“No, I’ve been working, or trying to work,” I replied. But I told him I’d pass that request along as I felt it appropriate. We hung up the phone. Later that day I got another phone call: the front lawn still looked terrible, what was going to be done about it? In a bold move (or out of pure, green desperation) I took the situation into my own hands. I told my son we weren’t going to worry about anyone else or their assignment, we were going to worry about him, his assignment and making sure he always does an excellent job and takes pride in his work. Situation resolved, I thought, as I hung up the phone at the conclusion of yet another conversation about the lawn!

I got a final phone call about the lawn later that day. I finally laid down the law: “We’re not going to worry about it. The person who mowed the lawn OR THEIR PARENT will be responsible to make sure the job is done well.”

Second marriage moment #24: the memory of the days when life was “simple” (or at least lawn mowing was!) In that moment remarriage brought this renegade thought to mind: “I mow my own lawn.” (Ron Reagan) It sure might be easier! But then just as quickly I was reminded of the myriad of ways life was a lot more complicated for me prior to remarriage and counted my blessings that my unexpected life had taken that unexpected twist of getting to marry again.

Tim Allen’s mom only had it part right. “My mom said the only reason men are alive is for lawn care and vehicle maintenance.”

I think they’re for marrying, too!

LOVE #5! Married to him for 8 months now and together, we’re bravely tackling (and finding joy) in all aspects of the new frontier called marriage/remarriage that we’re exploring, including…mowing the lawn.

Living Legend

Date: April 27, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Deangelo: ‘Why do you use your name when you answer the phone?’ Erin: ‘Oh, that’s how Pam does it. I just copy her. She’s sort of a living legend.’” (The Office)

I had my new name, not too long thanks to the Social Security Administration, and now all I had to do was remember it. And answer to it. Easier said than done, as it turns out.

One Sunday, sitting in the women’s meeting at church, I suddenly noticed everyone in the room looking at me and laughing. They joked, “She doesn’t even know her name!” I assumed they must have called me “Andrea Ramsey” and I had failed to respond to it.

After the meeting a friend joked with me about it and I promised I’d get my name right the next time. That was when I found out they were laughing because they had called me “Andrea Ramsey” not just once, but THREE times! And it hadn’t registered with me, I hadn’t realized they meant me and had failed to respond to it every single time!

“Respond intelligently…” (Lao Tzu)

If you can. I’m going to work on that.

Second marriage moment #7.


My Ellis Island

Date: April 26, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Choose your new name carefully. Practice signing with it. Have a few people close to you call you by that name, and see how you like it. You can change your first name, middle name, last name, or all of the above. Just make sure your new name doesn’t imply “fraudulent intent” or is not in the public interest.” (wikiHow)

I took more time off work and returned to the Social Security Office the very next morning. I thought, since they closed at 4 p.m., that they’d open at 8 a.m. but I was wrong. I waited an hour for the doors to open, took a number (I was first in line and got the first number of the day), and stepped forward to wait my turn.

As I stood there waiting for my number to be called, the only clerk helped someone. Then another person. Then another. I finally stepped forward and asked, “Excuse me, are you calling numbers?”

The clerk looked at me with a blank expression. I explained, “The guard told us to take a number as we walked through the door, you have several signs posted that direct us to take numbers, but I haven’t heard you call any numbers…”

Despite the full waiting room, they hadn’t been calling numbers. But they decided to help me next anyway. I stepped forward, thoroughly prepared for the name change (after all, it was my second attempt to change my name at the Social Security Office; I’d had an additional wait I hadn’t planned on which gave me time to make sure I’d filled everything out correctly) and handed the clerk my paperwork. The paperwork to add “Ramsey” to my name, to make it my new and official last name.

Unfortunately, the clerk had a problem with it. “It’s too long,” she said.

“What?”

She showed me that her computer screen had three boxes: first name, middle name, and last name; with a limited number of characters per box. My proposed name was too long for the Social Security Administration computers! She told me I could have three names. I asked, “Wait a second–what about the famous people and movie stars who name their children 5-6 names? How do they do that, if my 34 letter name is too long?”

She said she didn’t know, but I had these options: my maiden name with the addition of “Ramsey,” “Andrea Merriman Ramsey” (without any part of my middle or maiden names),  ”Andrea Merriman-Ramsey” (but I’d have to sign that long last name every time I signed my name, not to mention it would give me a last name different than my children AND my husband!), Andrea L.C. Merriman Ramsey,” “Andrea L.C.M. Ramsey,” and a few other options. I stood at the counter, suddenly unprepared, facing a huge decision that was going to follow me every day of my life, and feeling pressure to hurry because I had to get to work and I knew other people in the room were waiting!

It was my own, personal Ellis Island.

But there wasn’t time to choose my name carefully because I had already carefully chosen my name and it had been rejected by the government, I had to get to work and people were waiting for me to make a decision and complete my business. I never thought to practice signing it. And at that point in my life, I was being called by pretty much anything and everything–no one was sure what I was going to go by. In fact, one Sunday the program at church one listed me by one name in one spot and a different name in a different spot!

Basically, it came down to the fact that I could use my maiden name (the name my church records used and the name of my parents, my ancestors and my heritage) or Merriman (the name of the man I wasn’t married to anymore.) In that moment, that spur of the moment, I chose my heritage. Merriman was gone.

Second marriage moment #6.

“I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have changed several times since then.” (Lewis Carroll, Alice In Wonderland)