It was a typical Sunday morning when my son, Oliver, quietly wandered into our shared bedroom, his eyes still heavy with sleep. “Mom,” he announced, “I saw a bird out of my window… what’s the name of those bright red ones?”
As I fought through the fog of slumber, I replied, “A cardinal.”
“Cardinal,” my partner, Ryan, echoed, still half-asleep.
Oliver continued, “I saw a baby one trying to fly out of its nest, but it fell.”
“Wait, did it die?” I thought, imagining the early morning spent in the backyard, comforting my sensitive six-year-old over a fallen bird. The image that came to mind was reminiscent of a cartoon character from my childhood.
“No, the mom was watching it from a tree nearby,” he reassured me.
“Good to hear. We can chat more about it later. You can head downstairs if you’d like.”
As the remnants of sleep washed over me again, I drifted back into a light slumber.
Home is a Mess of Boxes
Boxes have dominated our lives for weeks now—some filled, some empty, and others still clinging on to random items with no clear purpose. We’ve spent countless hours packing up Joe’s home and mine, creating a landscape of cardboard that signifies our new beginning. It feels like a peculiar representation of life itself, with U-Haul as an unwitting sponsor.
There are endless decisions to make: What goes in which box? Is this where that belongs? Should we buy new supplies or just use what we have?
As we approach the two-week mark in our new home, things are improving. Each time we unpack a box, the space becomes more welcoming. We finally have curtains, a luxury I didn’t realize I missed when I was frantically trying to change clothes without flashing the neighbors—one evening, I resorted to changing in the hallway.
With unpacking and settling in, I also have the weight of blending our families, transforming our party of three into a sometimes chaotic party of six. Occasionally, it’s just Ryan and me, and while we feel a tinge of guilt about enjoying those peaceful moments, we embrace them.
My main concern, though, is the kids. Are they coping with all the changes? Are they happy or hiding their feelings behind smiles? I worry they’ve become too reliant on screens during this transition, but I’ve chosen not to monitor their screen time too closely now. As I pass by, I attempt to gauge their emotional state in fleeting moments.
There’s been so much to do—so many lists to check off. I wish that “ensure the mental well-being of my children” could simply be added to that list and marked as completed.
Did This Really Happen?
Every morning, I wake up to find Ryan beside me in this house I had fantasized about for so long. He’s there every night, without the burden of an hour-long commute or saying goodbye over phone calls.
Sometimes, it feels surreal. I find myself organizing our space while the kids engage in their activities, and no one seems overly distressed by the upheaval. Yet, I occasionally question if this is all just a dream.
After dropping the kids off at their dad’s house one Sunday evening, I realized I forgot to ask Oliver about the baby cardinal. I began to wonder if the entire conversation had been a figment of my imagination. “Did Oliver come in talking about a bird?” I asked Ryan the following day.
“Yes, he mentioned seeing a baby cardinal fall from a nest. Or maybe he just thought he saw it.”
Interesting. I love analyzing dreams for fun, so I began to reflect on this potential dream of Oliver’s.
The bird, once a baby but now a “kid,” mirrored his growth. Cardinals are vibrant red—an interesting detail for someone like me who often connects colors to emotions. My mind raced with thoughts of stability and security as I considered Oliver’s feelings. Was he worried about his own grounding in this new environment?
After consulting an online dream dictionary, I discovered that seeing a cardinal symbolizes vitality and happiness, which left me pondering if Oliver’s happiness was waning or if he felt overlooked. Yet, I recalled that even though the bird fell, its mother was there, keeping a watchful eye.
This transition has been challenging, and I can’t express the anxiety I’ve felt about sending my kids to a new school. I’ve thrown countless wishes into the universe, hoping for kindness from their peers and meaningful friendships to blossom. These things are beyond my control.
Ultimately, I realize I cannot be there to catch them if they stumble, but I can equip them for what lies ahead. I can cheer them on and instill the belief that even if they fall, they can rise again.
I want them to know that I am always here, watching over them—not in a creepy way, of course.
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In summary, navigating the complexities of blending families can be overwhelming, but with love, support, and clear communication, we can create a nurturing environment for our children to thrive in.