Living Happily Ever After
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So What Do You Do When…

Date: August 17, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

Not too long ago my youngest was in the tub singing as he bathed. Thanks to the influence of my husband and his performance in Sundance resort’s summer theater production of “The Sound of Music” (I think), eventually the singing turned to yodeling (or shall we say, “attempted” yodeling?)

So what do you do when your son is yodeling? If you’re me, you join him!

There he sat in the tub as I stood at the counter doing my hair, both of us providing QUITE an impression of Julie Andrews and the Von Trapp children’s song about goats! Later in the day, when my husband called to say hello, I let him know what my son and I had been up to in the bathroom before the neighbors did. I’m proud and thankful to report that accidentally shaving an eyebrow off wasn’t in the report this time. My husband listened quietly as I detailed our activity.

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but here’s what happened. Without missing a beat, he started yodeling the song from Disneyland’s “It’s A Small World” ride—demonstrating a suggestion for future material my son and I could yodel to!

Second marriage moment #22.

Because if you had told me, pre-March 18, 2009, that in 2011 I’d be working full-time, residing in any state other than Colorado, married to a different man than the previous 20 years, living a completely different life (aka. yodeling in a Utah bathroom and actually married to a man who sings, yodels, dances, plays musical instruments and wears lederhosen when the occasion requires it)…I NEVER would have believed it!

Still loving the unexpected life.

How’s yours?

“If you ever teach a yodeling class, probably the hardest thing is to keep the students from just trying to yodel right off. You see, we build to that.” (Jack Handy)

Good to know.


More Embarrassing Than…

Date: August 1, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Lost a planet Master Obi-Wan has. How embarrassing.” (Yoda)

I took 5 kids to see my husband’s dress rehearsal for “The Sound of Music” at Sundance resort the other night.

It was the first time my youngest has ever seen this daddy on stage. He was thrilled with each and every appearance. (My husband plays the butler, so there were quite a few entrances to catch my son’s attention!) Pretty soon it became apparent that my youngest was only interested in the show when he got to see his daddy on the stage; and eventually, after one small tantrum, and finishing the licorice Nibs he chose at intermission, he fell asleep.

Sadly, he slept through the best part—the part where my husband has abandoned the tuxedo-wearing butler role—and comes out, instead, in embroidered leiderhosen and knee socks, bowing over and over again, as the 3rd place winner in the music festival the Von Trapp family singers perform at and then escape from. (If I’m not mistaken, and based on the audience’s roaring laughter, that moment may have stolen the show!)

The most entertaining part of that moment for me, however, was NOT what was taking place on stage. It was looking at the row of kids beside me and their reaction. They were uproariously laughing and totally enjoying the sight. I’ll never forget my oldest son, laughing and shaking his head, looking at me with tears coming out of his eyes, at his stepdad’s lack of inhibition. (By the way, that is one of the things I love about my husband—he is always willing to do unexpected, crazy things, on or off the stage, in the name of entertainment, and especially to make people laugh. I have some special memories of those attempts, let me tell you, most of which cannot be publicly shared or he might be tempted to quit them altogether to preserve his reputation!)

In that moment, however, everyone was entertained. Everyone except for one. My stepson.

He sat there in shock, his jaw on the ground, disbelief masking his expression, at the sight of his dad. He shook his head in absolute mortification (he is a teenage boy, 13 years old, after all) and looked like he wanted to crawl under the bench! His embarrassment was so palpable, I reached over and gave his should a squeeze of reassurance as if to say, “It’s ok, you’re going to survive this moment.”

Because it’s my experience that the embarrassment eventually dims. The difficult becomes endurable. And then…you’re on to another adventure! That is life. (And the teens, isn’t it?)

However, as a parent who unknowingly and sometimes knowingly, I admit it, frequently embarrasses her children—like every time I dance—it was a priceless moment for so many reasons (not the least of which was the realization that I may have married my soulmate.)

‘I was always embarrassed because my dad wore a suit and my mother wore flat pumps and a cozy jumper while my friends’ parents were punks or hippies.’ (Shirley Manson)

The things parents do.

Apparently, there are things more embarrassing than losing a planet.:)

“Because I’m Worth It” (Loreal, 1967)

Date: July 26, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Whenever I don’t have to wear makeup, it’s a good day.” (Cameron Diaz)

The other night I was in the bathroom, removing my makeup, getting ready for bed. About the time I entered the raccoon stage—big black circles of eye makeup and mascara mixed with Vaseline (I’m an 80s girl, what can I say? And it’s less expensive than professional makeup remover from Mac, Clinique or any other department store makeup counter), my husband walked in.

He asked, “Do you have any of those makeup remover ‘sheets’?”

I assumed he saw the archaic yet inexpensive makeup removal system I was using and was suggesting I splurge on something better. I clarified, “You mean the little towelettes that come pre-moistened? I’ve used them before, but they’re expensive; not a part of the budget in my new life.”

“Yes,” he replied. “I know they’re more expensive but…”

I assumed he was telling me he thinks I’m worth the extra few dollars said product would cost. But instantly, in that moment, just as I began to get swept away by the romance of my new husband’s caring and concern for even my makeup removal, and before I could respond, he lifted his hair back, showed me his forehead and said, ” I mean, look at this! I tried to take it off, but it doesn’t come off easily. Those towelettes work really well.”

Stage makeup.

For the theater production he’s in this summer at Sundance  resort in Utah.

“The Sound of Music.”

It opens this Friday, July 29.

I gave him some of what I was using, and we both stood at the counter, together, and removed our makeup as we talked about the day.

Second marriage moment #20. Standing in front of the mirror, removing my makeup, while my husband did the same!

I never EVER expected that one.

“I mean, look, I wear makeup in films. I don’t wear makeup in real life. It’s just part of the gig, that’s all.” (Bruce Willis)

Really. At least I’m pretty sure that’s the message my husband would want me to share with the world should I reveal (as I have) that he sometimes wears makeup because, “not everyone is as liberal-minded as you are,” he says.

Speaking of liberals and conservatives, and politics in general, here’s a good one: “The reason there are so few female politicians is that it is too much trouble to put makeup on two faces.” (Maureen Murphy)

Even On July 13

Date: July 13, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“If you wish to forget anything on the spot, make a note that this thing is to be remembered.” (Edgar Allan Poe)

Two years ago today, July 13, 2009, I thought my world had ended.

As I drove from Colorado to begin a new life in Utah (crying as discreetly as possible so my children wouldn’t realize tears were uncontrollably rolling down my cheeks), I could not comprehend ever healing or feeling whole again. I anticipated that date, July 13, would be burned in my memory forever and would always haunt me, as a day of personal infamy, never to be forgotten.

Cut to 2011.

A few days ago I realized (only because my middle child reminded me) that July 13 was approaching. I marveled at the healing that has taken place in just two years. I can’t believe all that has transpired in my life and in the lives of my children since 2009. We’re living a completely different, yet still unexpected, life. And honestly, this isn’t a painful date any more.

But I decided I needed to at least attempt to give it the respect I had once thought it deserved, to remember it and to mark the occasion by doing SOMETHING, so I made a plan to dispose of the dead hanging basket of flowers previously mentioned today—July 13.

This morning I got up, went to work, had a lunch meeting, worked all day, came home, did some work from home, enjoyed my children, made dinner, ate dinner with my family, sent #5 off to rehearsal for Sundance Resort’s summer theater production of “The Sound of Music,” and on my way back into the house happened to notice the basket of dead flowers hanging on the front porch. It brought me to a screeching halt. July 13!

Today was once THE day! I was supposed to have remembered it, wasn’t I? I had a plan to carry out! And here it was, almost 6 p.m., before I even remembered today. Just two years from the day I thought my world had ended, and already, I have completely forgotten July 13!

But never let it be said I don’t follow through with my plans. I asked my oldest son to throw the basket in the outside trashcan, he grabbed it and went to toss it out, and I turned around and went back into the house without a second glance or another thought.

How did it happen? How is it possible to have suffered such tremendous loss, to have endured such devastation and grief, only to forget such a landmark date just two years later?

I think it’s one bonus of not just living the unexpected life, but choosing to embrace your unexpected life.

Accept what you’ve been dealt. Take stock of what you’re left with. Use it to rebuild. Count your blessings. Laugh. Choose to find happiness and joy in your new realm. And guess what? You will. Each and every time. If it happened to me, it can happen to you. I know it. And then at some point, you realize the pain is gone. If you hang on long enough, choose to let go of it and focus on your new blessings, at some point, the pain is gone.

“My focus is to forget the pain of life. Forget the pain, mock the pain, reduce it. And laugh.” (Jim Carrey)

Even on July 13.

A Conversation I Never Expected

Date: July 5, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Nice duds. What is that, lederhosen?” (“Leprechaun 3″)

Life is full of the unexpected. We have experiences we never expected to have; we sometimes end up in places we never planned to be.

I’ve lived through some very major unexpected moments and some that were easier to embrace–like a very minor one I had the other day. In the form of a conversation. The day my new husband came home from work and asked, “Tell me, how do you feel about lederhosen?”

Lederhosen?

They’re what every wife dreams of her husband wearing, right? Prior to my unexpected life, I admit I’d never given lederhosen much thought. But I have now. Because as it turns out, my husband will be wearing some when he appears in this summer’s 2011 summer theater production of “The Sound of Music” at Sundance resort in Utah. And as an added bonus, it’s even…embroidered!

Lederhosen. For sure, something I never expected to have to have an opinion about. But it provided me with a very unforgettable second marriage moment #17, and it has also caused me to revise my expectations for the future. Now I know he’ll wear them, and I’m sure he’ll look very handsome in them, but I still never  expect to hear,  ”I very much like vearing ze lederhosen.” (Ross Noble: Sonic Waffle)

I’ll keep you posted.