Updated: Dec. 3, 2020
Originally Published: Nov. 15, 2015
This past Sunday, my son Jacob tiptoed into our shared bedroom around 7 AM. “Mom,” he said, “I was looking out my window and I saw a… wait, what are those birds that are bright red?”
As my mind tried to shake off the sleepiness, I managed to reply, “A cardinal.”
“Cardinal,” my partner Mike mumbled, still caught in the fog of sleep.
Jacob continued, “Well, I saw a baby one of those fall out of a tree.”
“What?” I replied, my heart racing at the thought of dealing with a possible tragedy so early in the morning.
“It wasn’t a baby, it was probably just a young cardinal trying to flap its wings and leave the nest but it fell.”
“Did it survive?” I asked, picturing myself in my pajamas, standing over a broken bird with my compassionate 6-year-old.
“No, its mom was watching from another tree to make sure it was OK and no animals got it.”
“Good. We can talk more about it later. You can head downstairs if you want.”
As Jacob left, sleepiness enveloped me again, pulling me back into a dreamlike state.
Boxes, Everywhere
Our lives have been dominated by boxes lately—full boxes, empty boxes, and those annoying half-empty boxes that cling to random items without a clear purpose.
For weeks, we packed up our belongings from Mike’s place and my own, and now our new home is cluttered with boxes in various states. It’s almost a strange metaphor for our lives, reminiscent of a chaotic Circle of Life advertisement for U-Haul.
Every decision feels monumental. What goes where? Can I place this here? Should we buy new boxes? The questions seem endless.
We’re nearing the two-week mark in our new home, and it’s getting better by the hour. Each box unpacked makes our space feel more like home. Curtains are finally up, which feels like a luxury after spending the first week figuring out how to dress without flashing the neighbors (let’s just say, I had to make do with changing in the hallway one night).
Amidst this whirlwind of unpacking, we are blending families. We’re no longer a party of three; we’re sometimes six, sometimes four, and occasionally just Mike and me. Admittedly, having time alone together is a guilty pleasure of divorce.
My thoughts often drift back to the kids. Are they adjusting well to the changes? Are they stressed beneath their smiles?
I can’t shake the worry that they’ve been glued to screens since we moved. I decided to let go of concerns about screen time during this transition, but as I stroll by, I can’t help but assess how they’re really doing.
With so much on my plate, it would be great to simply check “ensure the emotional well-being of kids” off my list.
Is This Really Happening?
Every morning, I wake up to find Mike by my side in a house I had envisioned for weeks. No more long commutes or goodnights over the phone.
Sometimes, it feels surreal. I arrange things, work in my dedicated office (instead of the cramped kitchen corner), and the kids engage in their activities, seemingly untraumatized by our changes. I occasionally wonder if I’m still dreaming.
After dropping the kids off at their dad’s on Sunday night, I realized I forgot to ask Jacob about the baby cardinal. Perhaps I imagined the entire conversation. Or maybe he did, yet it seemed so vivid.
“Did Jacob come in talking about a bird?” I asked Mike the next day.
“Yes, he mentioned seeing a baby cardinal fall out of a nest. Or maybe he thought he saw it but dreamt it.”
This made me ponder the possible meanings. The bird was no longer a baby, but a young one—much like Jacob. Cardinals are bright red, and I couldn’t help but think of their symbolism: vitality, happiness, and stability. Was Jacob the bird, concerned about his own stability?
Moving is tough. I’ve lost sleep worrying about sending my kids to a new school. I plead with the universe: “Please let the other kids be kind.” These are things beyond my control. We’ve left our cozy nest behind, and soon enough, they’ll need to step out into the wider world.
I can’t catch them if they stumble, but I can prepare them. I can offer my support, letting them know that even if they fall, they can still rise again.
I’ll be here, always watching—though that may sound a bit creepy, you get my point.
For a deeper dive into similar challenges and insights, check out this blog post that explores navigating family dynamics. And if you’re looking for resources on home insemination, this excellent guide provides great information. Plus, consider checking out Cryobaby’s at-home insemination kits for your family planning needs.
In summary, navigating the uncertainties of a blended family is a complex journey filled with challenges and moments of joy. Each day brings new decisions and emotions, but through it all, the bond between us grows stronger, reminding us that we can face whatever comes our way together.
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