When your past, present, and future keep colliding

Oh my. It has been over a year since I updated this blog. I’m not even sure where to begin. The last post I wrote was a piece about blending vomit. While the majority of the vomit has finally homogenized, there are still some curdled chunks that keep rising to the top. It’s the same chunky pieces that fester up. Again, and again, and again.

When Ray and I said those blissful words, “I do,” almost three years ago, we knew that blending a bachelor, three kids, and a control obsessed woman would be challenging. Neither one of us “adults” quite realized how challenging things would be.

I guess part of the reason that I haven’t blogged in so long is because I feel like I’m giving the details of some intimately fragile being. I’m still afraid of breaking something. Ray continues to laugh at my fears of him running out of the house screaming while Annie is running around naked asking for someone to wipe her butt, Dasha is talking to herself about an episode of some Disney soap opera, and Grant is hanging lifelessly in his darkened room in his hammock. As for me, I’m usually rendered helpless at those moments. It’s amazing how your past can continue to pop up in your future. I know there are all sorts of verses and sayings about not letting your past determine your future. Bull crap. Yes, I’m an adult. I only said crap – that time. I know the verses. I know the sayings. But, sometimes life is messy and you can’t just clean it up. You need a HAZMAT team, and you need them on stand-by because the mess will reappear at unplanned intervals.

Going into marriage for a second time, I didn’t realize how unprepared I was. If Ray didn’t have the character and integrity of a saint, I think I can say with confidence that I’d be a single mother again. Yes. I know that is a really bold statement. However, folks just don’t realize the baggage that divorce leaves. You can pack the bags up and stow them in the closet, but eventually they are going to tumble out. All of the unmentionables are going to spill into the middle of the room. That’s just how it works.
So, dealing with the idea of Ray heading for the border has been something that I’ve dealt with a lot. Ray does not like it when I compare him to folks in my past, and he wants a clean slate. I truly try to give him that, but… Let’s face it. There are plenty of days when I don’t want to be here with two teenagers and a high maintenance six year old. That’s harsh, but I think most mamas get to that point. I get tired of being a responsible adult. But, I’m bound to be here by those maternal instincts that drive mama bears to protect their cubs at any and all cost (even when the cub seems to have lost it's ever loving mind). He, admittedly, doesn’t have that bond. The girls both love Ray beyond measure, but many times, they still will look toward me when he asks them to do something. They still see me as the Alpha. As for the relationship with Grant, honestly, that’s just too fragile to be putting out in print. Our prayer is that one day he will understand and accept.

For nearly three years, we have worked so diligently to become part of one of those Norman Rockwell pictures. Well, maybe not Norman Rockwell. I think we might have been aspiring for something closer to the Simpsons. Doh! But, the road has not been easy. We have had to have some really tough and messy conversations. But, some of the most loving and growth-filled moments are when emotions are raw and naked and spilled all of the floor. (Visualize a butcher's shop after he just had the busiest day of his life). Ray has seen me at some of the lowest moments in my entire life. He has seen the bile that I had been holding in for so long spattered from floor to ceiling. And, somehow, he never flinches. Many of the discussions have revolved around what we are beginning to accept with Dasha and that she will most likely never live independently, and we will always be responsible for her. Talk about having to revisit your bucket list. The discussions that surround Grant always end up with me being nearly hysterical. Yes. I can be dramatic and hysterical. It’s not a pretty sight. Grant will forever be my “baby boy.” I just wish Ray could have known him when he was so sweet and compliant. Now, Grant doesn’t even speak to Ray. He has no use for any of us in this house. Those words came from his mouth. I’m sure they were motivated by other things, but hearing your baby boy say that he doesn’t really care for you or have anything in common with you is heartbreaking. And, then there’s Annie. Annie. Annie. Annie. This girl is something else. She loves Ray like nothing else. She asks to watch techie shows with him, and her personality reflects so much of what Ray has invested in her over the last three years. Maybe that’s why I struggle with her. It’s like having a mini version of Alton Brown and Albert Einstein mixed together with a dash of Selena Gomez running around the house. She has such a tender heart, but her brain and mouth NEVER stop.

What’s my point? I don’t know. I think I chased a squirrel back in the second paragraph. However, I had a friend recently tell me that I should blog about the challenges that have come with a second marriage. She said that folks appreciated my honesty. Well, I’m not sure that I call all of this mess honesty. It’s called a messy life. It’s called real life. I do absolutely love this season of my life, but I am learning that I have to be very intentional about my attitude, feelings, and communication. I’m not really good at any of those. I prefer to slap on the “I’m fine” face and walk it off.

The thought of posting this rambling out on the web for others to see does sort of terrify me. I’ve moved on in my life. Most of the folks who read the details of my divorce and upheaval have moved out of my circle of friends. In fact, I was thinking about the folks that are still in my life who could walk you through the events of the birth of two kids, the death of one, the adoption of one, the birth of another, a divorce, and a remarriage and they are very few. (That does sort of make me sound like a high maintenance friend, doesn’t it)? But, I’m ready for this. Folks need to realize that a second marriage will NOT fix what ailed in the first marriage. Those issues are still going to be waiting for you – more like haunting you. If the person who you’re choosing to “do life with” can’t put on some gloves and clean up a LOT of vomit, duck chairs, ignore dirty words said in heated moments, accept that you have a past, and not retaliate, then you need to rethink marriage with that person or seek some serious counsel (not Dr. Phil style – someone who will dump the dirty laundry on the floor and force you to work through the stale undies, stiff socks, and whatever else you might have been stowing there).

For those who are reading this and don’t find yourself anywhere near this ballfield called “remarriage,” just be mindful of the enormous adventure that marriage is and don’t take it lightly.

Amen
(Not the kind of Amen that you hear muttered in reverence, but the kind that a Pentecostal would yell out in the middle of a sermon)