A Strong Foundation for the Three of Us. . .

To say I'm protective of my home, is like saying Santa Claus is from the North Pole. It's not so much the structure or contents, but what "home" represents to me.

After being single for so many years, it was a piece of cake to keep the household free of fighting, misunderstandings and someone else's baggage. A stable home life is something I worked hard for - financially and otherwise. It's my safe place - where the crazies can't get to me (except through the nightly news or e-mail, hello channel remote and delete key). There is enough going on out there in the real world to scare the bejesus out of any of us, so with a turn of a lock - here I am in my safe little world. La la la la la la la. Where peace and love exists and the cat and dog run freely and happily. I get to eat whatever I want and watch whatever crap I want to watch on the boob tube. I could laugh out loud, cry out loud and burp out loud (although, I'd say 'excuse me' to the animals).

So, then I decide to get married. When my husband moved in, one of the first things he did was remove my eyesore of a mailbox. This was a mailbox that I sweated over in the hot Florida Sun making a tile mosaic all over it. I received a very nice compliment from a neighbor: "Weeeelllll, that's interesting. . "

As the lumpy prodigious sculpture began to lean, it only added to the character. I was shocked when the mailbox was gone, and my husband proudly showed off his new straight green one straight from the generic department of Home Depot. But that was okay, it was only the outside of my safe place. And I do believe, by the mailbox's demise that he added value to the home.

We had one rule in the house - he had to STAY OUT of my bathroom. He very wisely moved slloowwwllly in, and cooked us such incredible gourmet meals on the grill that it was like living with Bobby Flay. I got to be exactly who I was before (only eating better). But I worried that MY home wouldn't feel like his safe place. A loving place, yes - but not his yet.

As he took over the garage and half the backyard with his hobby and work-related items, that part of our sanctuary was definitely his. When he added a 1952 Willys Wagon to the mix - his comfort level was complete.

Four months ago, on a Friday night at about 9:30 - we added another addition to the house - his 15 year old stepdaughter, Amanda. He scrambled through our spare room making room in the closet - stuffing his clothes into my closet and organizing my seasonal clothes. Instead of feeling like he's disrupting my L-I-F-E and T-H-I-N-G-S, I was so grateful with the ease and speed he was able to do it all. I was in la-la land - which is a great place to be when your life is about to change. La la la la la la la la la la la la la la. La la la la la la la la.

"I'm going to move my stuff into your bathroom," he said.

"OH NO YOU'RE NOT!" I screamed, as I snapped back into reality. "You guys have to share a bathroom." I'm the type of person who is concerned with sharing a bathroom on vacations. My bathroom is my safe place! That was a no-brainer that my husband easily conceded.

When Amanda moved in - we had a healthy, beautiful, funny, giggling, intelligent, absolutely non-complaining teenager. Her rules? Be good to the animals, keep them safe. No fighting allowed. And any dysfunctions she lived with at her other household had to stay there - we have enough craziness for her to adapt to here. We didn't need more. Our home had to be Amanda's safe place for her to escape from her outside craziness and stress.

There were some major adjustments for her and she politely questioned what they meant. Why did we ask so many questions? Of course, I was intrigued and excited by her teachers, her friends, her sports. It was horrifying and exhilirating to remember what it was like to be a teenager again! (I finally stopped asking her what her new vocabulary words were.) On Meet the Teacher night, I almost threw up. (Even more incredible was knowing one of the teachers. She wasn't Mrs. Bliss - she was Pat.)

Amanda acclimated beautifully and her room was her nirvna. I gotta tell you, she made the room MY idea of the perfect escape. Music, tv, clutter, fluffy blankets and pillows - I wanted to move in. I loved visiting in her room, but I respected her private sanctuary. She earned it through great grades at school and being generous and considerate to her Dad and me.

The thing I had to learn was how to deal with disharmony in the house. I'd go into panic mode. I would think things are going to be permanently like that and it is "unacceptable" (in my ugliest tone of voice!) in our home. Amanda's Dad always keeps the cool head and I think I'm losing control of my surroundings that are the WORLD to me.

Recently, Amanda's safe place was shaken after she returned home from a visit to her other household. Lack of good solid communication that made her Dad and I think the worst was what greeted her when she came home. I will always remember her stunned silence, the stop in her walking, when I said that I felt she was 'deceitful' to us. She sobbed later in her room, which made me as miserable as I've ever felt in my life as both her father and I tried to get to the bottom of the story.

The 'worst' was not applicable here, and both her Dad and I apologized to her. I've been falsely accused of things totally out of my character, and it takes me two centuries to get over it. I wondered how long it would take Amanda. While I pondered the lesson of never again jumping to a wrong conclusion, I thanked God that we gave her a chance to defend herself and listen. Really listen to her.

The worst part for me was that her Dad and I made HER home a scary place. A place she wanted to leave.

With three people in the house, this former single woman learned that there will be times when Amanda and/or my husband will make ME want to leave home. With different moods, different outside factors, different stresses of the day - we can't be cheery all the time. But we can always care about each other and respect when someone is down.

With our home's main foundation - of common consideration and most importantly, love and caring - our structure of peace and love, will remain strong and sturdy. Our roof may leak tears at times, but can easily be patched.

By the way, Amanda recovered in what I considered a record time. She made us a beautiful cake and a star for me. She's the shining star and I thank her for the lessons she teaches me.