Blended Family: Waffle House Inspiration: Revisited

This was posted originally on January 17, 2011 by exwifenextwife blog, which is now Louder Than Most Women. I feel passionately about trying to create the best situation for children in all cases, especially divorce. As this was written over 3 years ago, there will be an update on the how this philosophy has worked for me outside of a mere theory. However, the back story has to be revisited.

In late 1997, I was a low-level hooligan. I wasn't old enough for the bars, but I certainly spent my fair share of post "ugly lights" time at the local Waffle House. I went to drink coffee, smoke cigarettes, flirt with slightly older, drunken men and torment my boyfriend in one fashion or another. 

At no point during that time was I considering that the future would hold a marriage, a child, a divorce, and step-parents. Not once did it occur to me that the lady in yellow and brown polyester would share a wisdom through her life experience that would impact my ideas of raising a child in a divorced home.

No one gets married thinking that one day they will get divorced. No one holds their child in their arms for the first time and thinks, "When your daddy and I divorce, I am going to do my best to get along well with your step-mom." 

My only thoughts were of love and happiness that day. 

But more than that, I do not think any woman reacts to the news that her Ex Husband plans to marry the "love of his life" with the thought of a 12 year old conversation with a Waffle House waitress.

I think her name was Debbie. She had severely bleached hair with harsh roots. She was obviously once a dazzling woman, but years of grease splatters, smoky rooms, and natural tanning had taken a toll on her. I knew that her husband was the manager of the local Waffle House and that her best friend, a plump brunette, was a fellow waitress. In my naive and limited world, I viewed all of them as sad souls with nothing more to offer than coffee and scrambled eggs (slightly burned).

When I had overheard her planning her child's birthday party, I realized that she, her manager/husband, waitress/best friend, and all of their kids lived in the same house. Having just gotten my first apartment and taste of freedom, the thought of sharing a home with that many people was too much for my 18-year mouth to refrain from commenting on. I asked, "How can you stand that many people in your house? I know she is your best friend, but don't you like private time?" She smiled a toothy smile and said, "Sweetie, that is the mother of my child's brothers and sister. I can't let her be homeless and all the kids get to grow up with their father."

Now remember, I was naive and stupid in my limited world, so it is understandable when I said, "Oh! Are y'all polygamists?" In her street-wise manner, she said, "I don't even know what that is, but I do know that family is forever. My best friend is my husband's ex-wife." WHAT!!! Hold the coffee!!! "You mean to tell me that you would let someone stay in your house that your husband used to sleep with? Are you crazy?" She laughed and explained that their previous marriage had nothing left but a friendship and wonderful children. She told me that she trusted them both, but that more importantly, she maintained a philosophy about how she wanted to raise her children. She even added "You would be surprised how much an Ex Wife and a Next Wife have in common." Yup! She was nuts. I imagined some sort of perversion or dysfunction was occurring in that house, but I listened politely, as I did not want to get my bacon served raw.

Debbie went on to explain that she did not hate, dislike, distrust, or have any other emotions that overruled the love she had for her child or her willingness to work her hardest to give her child a full life. Shirley believed that her child had the right to love The Ex-Wife because she was the mother of her children's brother and sister. To her, that was blessing enough. She chose to focus on family and love instead of jealousy and the past.

I left around 2 a.m. that morning thinking that those Waffle House workers needed to step away from the heat of the grill and get a reality check. After all, hostile work environments (have you been to a Waffle House on a Saturday night?) and dehydration can cause confusion and mental instability. I threw that conversation in the "junk pile" of my mind and did not think of it until 2009.

So, when I realized that The Next Wife was going to be a part of my life, I remembered Debbie and decided to develop my own philosophy about raising a child in a split family.

My  #1 Rule of Blended Families – Love your child more than you hate anyone else.

My next blended family related blog will be – Robert Burns Warned Us about "Best Laid Plans"

Until next time, BE LOUDER THAN MOST!!!!

Out of Context: Movies in the Park: Parenting 101

One of the things that I look most forward to in the oppressively muggy summers in Little Rock is the Riverfront spectacular known as Movies in the Park. Having to combat monster mosquitos and lapsing into dehydration every hour are small prices to pay for this weekly summer event.  It is free; it is entertaining, and it is set at the beautiful river bank of the Arkansas River. You can bring a picnic dinner and relax while your child is simply going bonkers seeing their favorite cartoon on the big screen without being restricted to a seat. Plus, the program also often takes can and dry food donations for local charities. What is there not to love?

Movies in the Park Website

This year's schedule was released and for the most part, I am excited.

• ·         June 11 - Man of Steel (PG 13)
• ·         June 18 - Office Space (R)
• ·         June 25 - Eat Pray love (PG 13)
• ·         July 2 - Frozen (PG)
• ·         July 9 - Harry Potter & The Sorcerer's Stone (PG)
• ·         July 16: The Hunger Games (PG 13)
• ·         July 23 - Friday Night Lights (PG 13)
• ·         July 30 - E.T. the Extra Terrestrial (PG)

My child is at an age where I do not bat an eye at PG movies. He is a rowdy, comic-book loving boy, so we work with the PG-13 for certain superhero movies.

There are some great movies this year.

http://tjhouston.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/ET.jpg

However, there are some movies that are questionable. I completely believe that there should be options for people who do not wish to see "kid" movies, so don't misunderstand my frustration.

There are parents everywhere that have no issue exposing their children to adult material or are too unaware of the content of a movie that is rated R (There is this lovely thing called Google, people! Use it!).

You know that there are people that will bring their kids to the R movies. I imagine the conversation being something like, "Oh! Little Johnny isn't even paying attention. He just wants to run around and blow bubbles."

Those moms grow up to be like the Oblivious Mom meme.

Really? Is that what you think happens? That mentality is why children go to their pre-school or elementary school mimicking "The O face" and Jennifer Aniston's finger gestures that show her "flair" for her job in Office Space. If you take them to see Friday Night Lights, be prepared for them to be scared of their coaches or worried that their father will comment on the physical development of a girl when they eventually get caught making out with someone.

Yes, this is Tim McGraw playing a drunk, abusive father. 

Are these things that you truly want your school age children to learn?  Certainly not. In most cases, when a teacher would call to address such behavior, a parent is likely to say, “Well, Little Johnny didn’t learn that at home. What are the other kids doing at school?” Parents tend to forget the minor details of a rated R movie that they thought their child wasn’t paying attention to when their precious does their own production of the movie in October. 

I say this as a mother whose child hummed "The Imperial March" in front of a priest while a reenactment of Jesus carrying the Cross was taking place during a live version of The Stations of the Cross (this same child asked the same priest if Yoda was God and wants to tell the whole school about Hellboy because, as my son puts it, "He was born a demon, but became a Catholic.").

I also say this as a teacher who often sees and hears many things that your child would not dare do in front of you. 

Most parents, I believe, genuinely try to raise the best kid possible. I have never heard a parent say that they wanted their kid to flip off their 2nd grade teacher or behave sexually by 4th grade. It comes down to being responsible for knowing what the content is before you go to the movies, and some parents seem to forget that when everyone just wants to get out of the house and enjoy a free event.

I love Office Space (I have a red Swingline stapler on my desk) and I enjoyed Friday Night Lights.

This is almost exactly how I look on most prep periods. I love my stapler. 

I am glad that adult options are available because not everyone has kids and for those of us that do, we want a date night occasionally without trying to shield a child's eyes and ears or having our spilled adult beverage ruining our pretty summer dress because some other parent is letting their kid is run around like a wild banshee.

I hope everyone enjoys Movies at the Park. My family certainly will. However, if you cannot find a babysitter on June 18th and July 23rd, then stay at home and make your own movie night for the sake of everyone involved. Most of all, to keep your child a little more innocent for a little while longer.

Until next time, 

BE LOUDER THAN MOST!

Out of Context: The Deadly Dentist

Has anyone ever since this movie? I know that it is a poorly made B movie, and I probably saw it while watching "Up All Night" with Rhonda Shear on The USA Network; nonetheless, this movie created a fear of dentists. Sadly, these evil beings are a necessity. 

As I mentioned in my previous post, I have had extensive dental work done on my teeth, much to the suffering of my nerves, my jaw, and my wallet. I HATE going to the dentist. I dreaded starting my Monday morning going to a Root Canal Specialist. I was shaky, nervous, and irked that I had to have a root canal re-done. It sounded like a total racket to me. 

I like to think of myself as logical and as a critical thinker, but the truth is that I am superstitious. I try to ignore all omens and symbols, but between being raised in the Deep South with two very superstitious grandmothers and having an ardent love of literature, I see omens and symbols everywhere and in everything. The "Root Canal Specialists" had an office FULL of omens and symbols. 

My first stop was the bathroom. There was this odd sign about "impregnated toothbrushes." If they can impregnate toothbrushes, then what kind of experiments was I going to be in for today?

She looks like a Stepford Wife

 As I entered the waiting room, I noticed how beautifully decorated and warm it was. I just knew if I let myself relax that an ax murder was going to pop out from the closet. I talked myself out of this non-sense and started to relax. Then, I saw him. 

Nemo and a selection of his cast mates were in the tank. Certainly, this doctor had seen Finding Nemo. Who hasn't? That was when I decided that "specialist" was a reincarnate of Orin Scrivello, D.D.S. He must be into psychological mind games to have poor little Nemo in his office, right? My anxiety took full control as I started develop a getaway plan for Nemo and me.

http://www.krystalgrant.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/dentist8.jpg

Just as I was about to make my daring rescue and escape, the all-too-perky dental assistant called my back to the dreaded chair (most psycho-killers have some crazy chic or brainwashed fool hanging around to lure unsuspecting victims to the death). 

Again, the environment was lovely, but a little too clean and to quiet. There were a few distractions that were good enough to almost make me let my guard fall: a beautiful view of the forest, a rather nice flat screen, and a massage chair (YES!!! The deadly dental chair was giving me a massage). Alas, I had seen too many horror movies in my life to fall for such tactics. 

I start using my profiling expertise, taught to me by Dr. Spencer Reed. I start noticing pictures of the "specialist" with numerous victims. He did not appear to have a specific type, but his m.o. was always the same: He left his victims with a hook in their mouth and took pictures of them hanging by a hook and thread while he was sadistically grinning. I knew that this was going to the end of my life. I also knew, based on my profile, that I was going to have to suffer a great deal of physical and psychological pain. 

http://www.wearysloth.com/Gallery/ActorsG/tve67660-20080507-1791.gif

Enter the "Specialist" stage left... 

This man immediately earned his serial killer moniker: Dr. Jolly. He was friendly and thorough in his explanation as to why this whole procedure was needed. He assured me that the procedure would be very quick with minimal pain. I became mesmerized by his charisma and felt myself relax. 

Alright! Alright! Alright! I will try to give it up with the dramatics, even though the above was essentially an exact description of my inner thought.. My previous dentist, who is retired and safe my wrath, had made some serious mistakes with one of my root canals. He missed a fifth root (proof that my mutant powers will reveal themselves with the radiation hits). Left-over broken drill files were rusting away within my roots and jaw. 

This is the sexiest before and after comparison that I have right now. 

Dr. Jolly did work quickly, and the pain was minimal. It was a much better experience than any other regular dentist procedure that I had previously. The tooth was severely infected, and if I had not gotten treatment, it would have eventually abscessed. 

I may have become a cult member because, by the time I left, I was begging Dr. Jolly to be my regular dentist. He only does what the voices in his head tell him to do apparently because he only does root canal work. 

As I left, I was happy that I could put a positive dental experience in my memory bank. He even called this evening to check on me and my pain level. Dr. Jolly must want to develop full trust before hooking his victims for his picture trophies.

 I still should have saved Nemo.

Out of Context: How Blondes Made Me Fat

Barbie

I think every woman that I know has been affected by "The Barbie Effect." I was a child of the 80's, a time when even cartoon heroines like Jem and She-Ra looked like Barbie. It was what I was supposed to be. I spent my entire childhood wanting to have blue eyes with a large bust line and a small everything else. I was already blonde, so I dreamed of completing my Barbie transformation once puberty hit, including the mandatory blue contacts.

I was around six years old when I decided that I did not want to be fat. I looked at my family, and most of them were obese, a fact that many of my school mates loved to point out when they were in an especially aggressive mood (the tomboy in me delivered playground justice for this infraction). My father most resembled a Gorg from Fraggle Rock from where I was standing. The only people in my family who were not overweight was my bulimic aunt and my naturally petite mother, who was always on a diet and did 99 crunches every night.

http://kumquatwriter.files.wordpress.com/2012/01/the-gorgs-garden.jpg

Marilyn

http://www.movieposterskey.com/postersimages/marilyn-monroe-chanel-no-5.jpg

In my tween years, just as I started the awkward phase of pre-puberty, I discovered Marilyn Monroe. She altered my vision of future me slightly because she was not a plastic doll or a cartoon. The vision of an ideal me was reinforced by a real person who was admired by so many. It had not occurred to me that she was, sadly, a plastic, cartoon, used "Barbie" doll herself. I had no such insight at that age. Observing her in only still shots, advertisements, and a few funny movies, I came to the brilliant conclusion that planning stupid along with my future Barbie/Marilyn look would be the best route to take in life. 

Good bye, Winnie Cooper. You almost had me because you were close enough to a tomboy, and you made smart okay, but the illustrious lure of being a pampered Blonde Bombshell seemed like it would be more fun.

http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/47/f8/93/47f893c165080d83f3b8c8d196d2b5d2.jpg

Pamela 

http://byebyepie.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54f9367fb88340133ece40cfe970b-pi

As I entered my teen years, the popular stars on cable TV were Rhonda Shear ("Up All Night"), Christina Applegate, Jenny McCartney, and, the epitome of "The Barbie Effect", Pamela Anderson. I learned very quickly that I had to start adding an amount of sex appeal into my act if I was going to truly accomplish this, which I learned from watching 90210.

http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2012/11/30/article-2241034-1649BC4F000005DC-473_306x488.jpg

These were my role models, despite my mother who was  desperately tried to get me to focus on the quality of my character and the importance of my education.

Once I got breasts (it felt like overnight process from nothing to a 32D), I just knew that my life was going to be made forever. Most teenagers are self-absorbed and vapid on any given day, but I had unknowingly turned myself into a plastic shell.

Plastic shells are hard, cold, and empty. I lived many years that way in an attempt to be a source of perfection with my own pink Dream House and a pink Corvette. I thought that I would work on the side as a singer and fashion designer, but mostly, I would simply be lavished upon by some perfect Ken.

SLAM. ON. THE. BRAKES.

As I mentioned, most of my family was obese. I had a small body with a big chest for about a year before my hips and thighs caught up with me. I was taller and had broader shoulders than almost every girl I knew and now, I was getting wider. During the early 1990's, no one was talking about eating healthy or the importance of exercise. The exception was my mother, who had learned how vital a healthy body image was for girls by this time; but, what teenage girl listens to their mother? The solution for me was bulimia.

When you become an empty, superficial person, you are very susceptible to becoming an equally dark and angry person. This happens for a few reasons, but for me it was a combination of a fake identity, a self-hatred for not being Barbie or Pam, and past "demons" that alienated me from being able to reach out to anyone with anything other than anger, hatred, and manipulation. 

Although I was surrounded by family and friends, I stayed alone in my dark world. The only thing that made me feel better was eating a gallon of ice cream or an entire pizza. Afterwards, I would feel the shame and regret that all bulimics do and simply want the horrible feelings to be gone.

I struggled with my bulimia on and off for almost 15 years. After paying over $8,000 to fix teeth that I had damaged over the years, I decided that I would not binge anymore. It was a rare occasion that I purged after paying those dental bills.

What I didn't stop doing was binge eating.

By this point in my timeline of life, I had no clue how to love anyone, especially myself. Any attempt at intimacy in my adult life was plagued with my deeply-rooted insecurities, which I masked by transforming myself mentally into some Marilyn Monroe/ Pamela Anderson mash-up character, fulfilling whatever fantasy that I thought would work.

http://37.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lyosu86Bev1rocqroo1_400.jpg

The binge eating went from being a solution for a bad day to a daily pattern of sneaking to the gas station to fill my heart with the love of Little Debbie and Mr. Pibb. They made me feel whole and gave me warmth, yet my self-hatred grew along with the rest of my body. The more I hated myself, the more I ate. I was still blonde, and I still wore Pin-Up Girl make-up, but I had ballooned to a B.M.I. of 37.6 (245 lbs.). I was no Barbie, no Marilyn, and no Pam. I was an empty mess who had managed to turn everything that was good in my life into a reflection of the darkness that grew inside me (NERD ALERT: feel free to insert a Red Witch comment here).

What was I going to do now that my life-long idea of the only thing that would make me worthy had not only failed, but had also destroyed me?

My next weight-related blog will be - Being Fat Made Me a Better Person

Until next time, BE LOUDER THAN MOST!!!!