Blending Vomit

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This is a compilation of my thoughts on the subject and his. Yes, my husband can write. His thoughts follow my post.

Blended. When I think of that word, my mind conjures up images of a toddler finger painting and blending colors together. I think of the girl at Smoothie King tossing the ingredients in the blender and blending the perfect smoothie. (Why won’t my blender make them taste the same way)? I think of all sorts of beautiful combinations of things that have been blended together. People even call some families “blended.” The Brady Bunch, they were a blended family. However, we all know the moment that the cameras stopped filming, those Brady kids must have turned into Satan’s spawn and started poking each others’ eyes out and shouting obscenities at their parents. They were a bit too well blended for my reality. Have you see Adam Sandler’s movie Blended? I love that movie. Two completely unlikely families blend into a beautiful family. Once again, they blended just like when you mix Kool-Aid powder and water. You could never separate the two again. Perfection.

Those were the expectations that I headed into my second marriage with. And, let’s face it, I thought the blending of my crew of convicts and Ray would be flawless. He didn’t even have kids that he was bringing to the blender!

Folks, the time has come for me to admit that I was wrong. The reality of blending families is nothing like blending finger paints or fruit in a smoothie. I’m pretty sure that using one of the Ninja blenders wouldn’t even make the outcome any better! Blending a family is like blending two piles of chunky puke. Once the puke is out, there’s evidence of the past (be it a pizza dinner or red juice) and there’s usually no denying which parties delivered the piles-o-puke. It’s messy, and it sure ain’t easy to clean up. Although I wanted to pretend like my past hurts had healed, they hadn’t. Those hurts have shown up in multiple pukey piles at various times over the last year. Ray’s past has shown up in a few piles along the way, too. And, even if you can get to that weird sawdust-like puke picker upper stuff and sprinkle it all over the piles, the evidence of the puke is still there – be it the stank or the on-lookers left staring at you.

Ok. I’m tired of talking about puke. I’m not really sure what inspired that parallel. Gross.

So, let’s just move on to the nuts and bolts. After doing the single mom “thing” for several years, I think I sort of just assumed that marriage to Ray would be remarkably easy. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually, I knew that we would be cared for. The kids loved him. My parents adored him. What else could a girl want? (Insert large lightning bolt and ominous sounds of thunder in the background).

Let me take a step back for a moment and tell you my inspiration for carving out time to write this… Garbage Pail Kids sort of rampage today. Over the last few weeks, I’ve had several single friends who’ve gotten engaged. I’ve heard them make comments alluding to the idea that second marriages are just like first ones – you’re just getting a “do over.” One friend even said that she had expectations of perfection because she knew that her hubby-to-be would never do the things her ex did. Um, yeah. Folks, we are humans. We all do stupid… even asinine things! We are selfish by nature and would prefer to side-step the reality of hardships. Believe me. Second marriages are harder – especially when there are rug rats involved!

Let’s start by talking about those rug rats. Many times, they are like time leeches. They have needs and wants (and demands) that need to be met. It’s not like that first marriage where you came home after a long day at work and you could collapse on the sofa with a bowl of cereal. I guess I could still try that, but I’d have Annie on one side of me asking to have a bite of my cereal, and Dasha would be asking to change the channel. Grant would be in the kitchen slamming cabinet doors as he looked for something to eat more substantial than cereal for dinner. And, in our situation, Ray would be left standing in the kitchen with that wide-eyed look of, “This sure doesn’t fit that Norman Rockwell photo that I had burned into my memory!” It’s just different. Alone time is nearly non-existent. So, as a couple, serious discussions or issues that need to be dealt with are frequently done via email or text. We’ve even started using an app called Wunderlist to organize discussion topics. Doesn’t sound like a great system, does it? Starting a new marriage with kids in tow is nothing for the faint-hearted. We won’t even begin to address meshing discipline styles and expectations for each child. I have the knowledge of what each child has been exposed to and what they “know” to be right. Ray doesn’t. He’s at a disadvantage. Does that mean that he should just stand in the background and let me do all of the parenting? No. That’s not what we want. However, finding a good started point isn’t easy, either!

Who wouldn't be proud of this?

You can even see their halos! Right?

Sleeping arrangements are another laughable thing. First time around, you want beautiful linens and candles to decorate your bedroom in hopes of encouraging “the mood.” Second time around, there aren’t any linens on the bed because someone puked on them and they are in the washer. And, if you do make it into bed, you’re likely to be shish-kabobbed with a Barbie shoe or a rogue toenail from someone’s shoddy clip job while sitting on your bed! And the candles, forget it. If you light those puppies with three kiddos running around, you’re surely going to be making a homeowner’s claim for a charred bedroom. (Ray did invest in LCD candles. However, I believe they’re in Dasha’s room now). And, combining the sleeping styles of two folks who’ve had their own beds for quite a while becomes even more laughable. Our headboard has slats along the top. Ray has counted them off and knows that the exact middle of the bed can be calculated at the “nine line.” This would be where the ninth slat is located on the headboard. More than once, he has muttered, “Get on your side of the nine line!” Let’s not even get into the arrangements that happen when a storm rolls through and our bed becomes the hang out. Is this something that folks think about heading into a second marriage? Well, they need to. This is reality unless you want to be like June and Ward and invest in two twin beds. Will you new hubby be open to having the little convicts crash your bed each night?

And finances? Well, I’m not even sure that I can adequately address that. We are still working on that. He was used to controlling his money. I’d grown accustomed to controlling mine (or my lack of). Using an envelope system seems sensible, but actually making it work has been another challenge. But, my point is that I don’t think families who are blending really think through the nitty-gritty of finances. I believe many of them look at the bottom line of what gets deposited in the bank each month, and they simply agree that the income will exceed the outflow. At that point, they assume that it’ll all be ok. Have you ever really even thought about your spending habits? I’m not talking about what the numbers show. I’m talking about the WHYs behind how you spend the money. Ugh. That’s a big ugly boogie monster waiting to grab your ankles and pull you under the bed! It’s gets even uglier when your spouse’s habits are drastically different. Just think about it.

Believe me, there are lots of other things that I was unprepared for. But above all, I wasn’t prepared for how my past was driving my future. I just didn’t realize how many bruises I still had from my first marriage. In order to protect those bruises, I had created quite a system of coping mechanisms to insure that I never felt that sort of pain again. The biggest coping mechanism I nurtured was making sure that I was always in control. Yes. I know you’re surprised. Me? A control freak. Yeah, whatever. I just didn’t realize how much of a freak I’d become. Ray knew from the start that I was… oh, what was the nice word he used?... independent. And, somehow, he managed to put up with my need to continually be in control. I needed control for the safety of my kids. I needed control to keep my finances in check. I needed control to make sure that things were done the right way (that ‘s MY way in case you needed the 4-1-1). Once again, this is an area that I was absolutely oblivious of until trying to “blend.” Believe me. My pile-o-puke was full of massive chunks of control. I still deal with this on a daily basis. Do you know that I can’t even ride in the car with someone without getting carsick now? If I’m driving, I’m fine. If I’m riding, I get sick. It doesn’t have anything to do with motion sickness. It’s control sickness. I could go on forever with how bad this has gotten. While Ray is patient with my insanity, I know that he grows weary of it at times.

My past still tempers how I parent, how I cope, and how I live. I think this is called life. And, I’ve come to the point of believing that if I can take my past and use it for my good, I might be able to call it wisdom. But, that doesn’t always happen. Sometimes I’m like Elsa. I use my control to build ice castles around myself. Do you want to build a snowman? Oh wait. That was sort of random.

My point is that if you are a single mama and you believe that the answer to all of your problems is to find a man and blend, then you need a reality check. Blending is a messy job. Until you’re ok cleaning up your own pile-o-puke, don’t expect someone else to want to step in and do it. I will admit that we when we got married just over a year ago, I was partially ok cleaning my own puke. I wasn’t like the iron-stomached custodian who swoops into an elementary classroom and sprinkles puke dust everywhere and then sweeps it up without hesitation. I was still gagging and choking as I cleaned. Wait. How did we get back to puke? What is wrong with me?

Ray and I have talked repeatedly through the last year. The books that we read on blending families just didn’t do it. He read books about how to be a dad since he had never operated in that role. I read books about supporting your husband through prayer and helping blend the “beautiful colors” of a new family. I just kept hearing Dr. Phil’s resounding words, “How’s that working for you?” Maybe we did glean a few truths from those books, but the majority of what we learned came from bumping our heads on the door (and floor and ceiling and against each other). I can’t even begin to address this whole blending activity if both parents have kiddos. I would need a full-time live in counselor (and pharmacist) to implement that deal! That has to be nearly impossible!

Single ladies, take my advice. If you are looking for someone to complete you (or your family) Jerry Maguire style, stop. You are wholly perfect and complete through His grace. Blending is a messy thing. While the Bradys and Adam Sandler were able to do it on the big screen, reality looks and feels very different. Be honest with yourself and remember Andy Stanley’s words. “Are you who the person you are looking for is looking for?”

I didn’t really mean for that to be a fountain of puke covered wisdom. However, my heart is breaking for a few women who are near and dear to me. They are looking for someone else to complete them. Until they discover that they are complete in Him, another marriage will never meet their needs or expectations and will most likely cause more devastation.

In case you were wondering, Ray and I are thriving. We have accepted that “normal” in this house is absolutely abnormal. We continue to learn from each other as if we are from completely different planets (most likely Mars and Venus). He works daily to coax me out of my comfort zones and gently push (toss) me into situations where my control is minimized. My prayer daily is that God allow me to learn to trust fully again through Ray’s integrity and patience. It’s quite a story that’s being written around here. Some chapters are full of bloopers and blunders. Other chapters are full of heartbreak and frustration. But, the majority of the plot revolves around this odd little family learning to love and work together through God’s unending grace. I never know what the next chapter will bring. But I do know that we are traveling through this journey together and that Ray was worth the wait.

Ray’s thoughts:  

 Life has definitely been a roller-coaster for the past 14 months.  Puking from the ride is not unexpected.  When Susan sits with a bowl of cereal, I am not standing in the kitchen.  I am working on dinner for the kids. (We are on this ride together).  

The past year did not go as I expected, either.  I prayed for God to bring the woman into my life that I would work with, in family and in ministry, for the rest of my life.  God brought Susan into my life, with three bonuses: Annie, Grant, and Dasha.  I’ve never been a father before.  Being an uncle was easy.  I could stop over and visit.  I could even babysit.  Then I could return to the peace and quiet of home.  Everything had a place (more or less), and everything was in its place (more or less). 

Going from the quietness of bachelor life to having a wife and three kids not only turned my life upside down, but inside out and backwards, too.  Things that I’d grown accustomed to in 39 years being single, such as quiet time, a semblance of order, control over my schedule… were gone.  Yes, there have been times that I look back and think that those were the ‘good old days’.  Then I look around at my wife, son, and two daughters and realize that the ‘good days’ are happening now, with my family.

We are still working a few things out.  Sharing the bed (with a wife who crowds and steals the covers, and refuses to keep her pillows on her side of the nine line).  Finances are definitely different with five people, two cats, and a dog.  We’re working through it, though, together. 

Any men out there who are thinking about marriage, do it!  Pray, and when you are sure that it is God’s will, don’t look back.  Yes, it’s different!  Yes, there are changes that you’ll have to make!  Yes, your life will never be the same!  Yes, it is wonderful! 

God blessed me not only with a wife, but with three kids, too.  More than I had asked for.  I will continue to do my best to be the husband and father that God called me to be.

Amen

Nitty gritty...

 Picture this. You're sitting in a peaceful spot that your husband created just for you. There's soft music playing in the background. Two lovely girls are seated at the table working on summer school work. As I type, that's exactly what's going on here. Maybe. Sort of. Ok. You can stop laughing now and get a paper towel to sop up the water that you just shot out of your nose and mouth. I am seated in this perfect little nook that Ray helped create. However, the desk no longer looks this neat and tidy. There are crayons scattered all over the top now and little pictures from Annie are tucked onto, into, and around the shelves. There is also music playing. However, it can't really be heard over the racket the girls are making at the table arguing about why the word Kohl's is spelled K O H L S and not Cole's. I guess I should ask them their thoughts about Coal's. So, the truth of the matter is that I've finally tried to carve out some time to sit and write. The floor is littered with Hot Wheels cars. (The girls started making roads on poster board, but the game turned violent and they started folding the board into ramps and launching the cars at unsuspecting animals. The dog has currently taken cover under my desk, and the cat is peering out from the chair next to me). So, as you can tell, although time has passed since I last wrote, some things will always be the same around here! Controlled chaos will rein supreme and housework will be sacrificed for the sake of laughter.

In a very feeble attempt to catch everyone up to speed on this crazy life, I'm going to give you a few snippets of what's gone on around here over the last year. Please feel free to walk away from the computer as your mind becomes cloudy and you begin to drool with the lunacy that may ooze out from this point.

It's been almost a year since Ray and I got married. The learning curve on marriage between two psychos with completely different backgrounds is VERY steep! Can you imagine how he felt after about a month of coming home every day to face three stooges and a psychotic woman instead of
sauntering in the door to his cat and a calm quiet home? I think the first time we really vocalized the differences, Ray said, "I feel like I'm in a foreign land!" Over and over again, he tells me that the insanity is completely worth the blessing, though. (When he says that, I really want to ask him if we need to look into some medication for him, because that's just really hard to believe). Anyway, the roller coasters of combining someone who lived the bachelor life for almost forty years and someone who had become a certified control freak trying to keep a leaking boat afloat with three kids aboard has been fun at times, scary at others, but are well worth the loop-the-loops and mind blowing hills and dips.

Annie prefers that Ray fix her hair. She says that I am in too much of a rush. Ya think? If I get too "rough," she'll run off to find him.

I'll leave the whole wedded bliss soliloquy alone for now. That's a whole other topic.

For now, I'll just try to catch you up to speed on what's going on around here.

Dinner out to celebrate not eating at home and having to do dishes. Sounds legit, right?

I think Ray was surprised / mortified / in disbelief about  a teacher's job. Heck, I'm allowed to say it now, too. I'm surprised, mortified, and in disbelief about what teachers are called on to do. "Officials" continue to pack more and more students into classrooms and then want to hold teachers "accountable" by surveying students, looking at doctored up test scores, and reviewing observations (on which the good teachers get the same scores as the bad - just FYI), and then wonder "what went wrong?" So, at the end of the school year, I walked away. After 16 years, I walked away. It still doesn't seem real. However, I have some other opportunities brewing (one being writing). So, we shall see what happens and how long it takes me to either learn to be Martha Stewart and flip this house, or to simply lose my mind.

I'm not sure where time went. Dasha is 16, Annie 5, and Grant 14 (going on 40).

 However, since I'll be home, I will be able to devote more time to the chicken nuggets. (I can hear Grant moaning now)! Grant and Dasha will be in high school next year, and Annie will go to a small school three days a week. Yes, I'll be responsible for being the responsible party on the other two days. I'm actually looking forward to that part of this new journey. Unlike the big nuggets, Annie actually listens when I try to "teach" her. I'm sure that we'll have challenges, but, if nothing else, I can claim that the laundry didn't get done or dinner didn't get started because I was helping Annie. Right? The day I lose my excuses for those things, I'm sunk!

Despite his weirdness, Grant is still the Gentle Giant. He'll be doing marching band this year, and is really excited (do teens get excited?) about being part of the group.

 Grant is still Grant, though. His snarky comebacks always keep me in that twilight zone of trying to be the parent, but wanting to fall over laughing hysterically at the things he says. The boy is still infatuated with Legos, too. I'll never tire of passing by his room and seeing him sitting in the floor surrounded by Legos and GI Joes. I'm hoping that the Peter Pan syndrome will hold true on just that one little part of him. (I don't need him to "never grow up" completely, though. He needs to grow up and get a job so he can pay for his own Legos)!

 And then there's Dasha. Whew. I'm just not sure what to say on this account. While her chronological ages continues to increase, there are parts of her that definitely mature (yikes!!!!), but there are some parts that are still stuck in the late elementary stage. How do you parent a sixteen year old who has a range of emotions, social abilities, and physical abilities than range from about an eight year old to a twenty year old? Ray is INCREDIBLE with Dasha, though. Somehow, he never loses his patience with her, and can speak to her in a way that I'm simply not capable of doing. Dasha clings to Ray - literally and figuratively. We don't know what high school is going to bring for her. We're sort of at a "wait and see" status. While she needs the socialization, she just doesn't have the skills to navigate the social world of the average high schooler. (She was propositioned by another female student to be "special" friends toward the end of the school year. Grant got wind of the situation, and alerted us. Dasha had no idea that this girl didn't want to just be buddies. We tried to talk her through the whole situation, but then she decided to tell the pediatrician at her check up that she'd been in a romantic relationship with another girl. I can laugh about the whole ordeal now, but at the time, I was praying that God would suddenly render her completely speechless. The look the pediatrician gave me was priceless)! And, mobility wise, we just don't know what we're going to be up against. Dasha is back to wearing the braces that go up to her knees. I'm not sure if she's really falling any less, but... During her last year of middle school, she ended up with a broken finger at one point, and a broken hand due to falls. The high school campus is much larger with lots more kids jostling around. We shall see. But, beyond the crazy Dashaisms, she is still wonderful with Annie and loves to help around the house. Ray is working with her cooking skills. I normally stand back and get my drawers in a major knot worrying that she'll topple over and fall into a hot pan, but Ray is determined to help her find what she's great at. (I feel guilty sometimes because I never really looked at it that way).

 And, as for Annie... Whew! At five, she has the mental capacity of a NASA monkey. (If you aren't sure... that's way more capacity then I have). Annie loves to build and create things. She also loves to read and will attempt to sound out just about anything. Millions of times each day, she'll ask how to spell something.

When I left for the store, she was just getting started.

When I returned, it looked like this. I was sort of expecting that she'd have built a Transformer, though.

 Annie graduated kindergarten in May. At the end of the year conference, the teacher didn't even address the academic items. Her main concern was that Annie plays much better with adults than with children. Maybe the teacher thought I'd be offended by that statement. I just sort of had the Homer Simpon, "Duh," zip through my head.  Oh well. At least the teacher didn't tell me that she eats paste and boogers. (Although, that would be much easier to remediate)!

She doesn't like help. Anyone surprised?

Graduation day

 As for the rest of the family, everyone is hanging in there. Ethel and Fred are still up to their routine antics. Their newest adventure is the war that they've staged with the resident squirrel population. Each week, they add something to their arsenal of crazy things to combat the squirrels from getting to their almighty bird feeders. This week, they added empty 2-liter bottles to the ends of the line that the feeders dangle from.

 In an attempt to deter Fred's squirrel chasing, Ray decided that an RC airplane would be the ticket for Father's Day. However, I'm betting that by the end of the month, Ray will have one, as well, and the two boys will have disappeared somewhere to fly their toys. I'm so thankful for how well Ray and my dad get along. Although, I am afraid that if they ever decide to use their powers for evil, we might all be in for some trouble. (Anyone else imagine Fred using that plane to dive-bomb the neighbors' homes who don't keep their yards in tip-top condition)? Just saying!

So, as I finally wrap things up, the girls have finally stopped launching cars at the animals. They've moved on to arguing about who will get to help make the ba-sketti tonight, and which jobs are most important. Maybe I'll just hand them each a can of Chef Boyardee and let them work it out for themselves.

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Matthew 6:25 - 7:29

Forgotten treasures FOUND!

It has taken me over 18 months to break back into my original blog. This is what happens when you have too many email addresses and too many passwords.

The old blog, Happily Ever After for Now, now holds the craziness of 2013 in one nice little package. However, I'm going to abandon that site and move my exploits back "home."