**A Diary Entry: Blended Families and the Quiet Battles**
*”You’re the one whos turned him against me.”* Those words from my husbands ex-wife still echo in my mind.
Earlier, my son, Oliver, flipped through his stepbrothers school diary and asked, *”Mum, why does Thomas have a different surname?”*
I froze, the ladle hovering over the pot of stew. The question hung in the air like a held breath. Oliver, sitting at the kitchen table doing his homework, didnt even look up as he waited for my answer.
*”Because he has a different dad,”* I said quietly, stirring the pot.
*”Wheres his dad?”*
*”He lives separately.”*
Oliver finally glanced up, his sharp blue eyes knowing far more than I wished an eleven-year-old could. *”Why does Thomas cry at night sometimes?”*
My chest tightened. Of course, I knew. Seven-year-old Thomas often curled into his pillow, muffling sobs in his sleep. The child psychologist said it was the stress of divorce, a new stepfather, a fractured world.
*”Hes still adjusting,”* I murmured, turning off the hob.
*”I didnt mind when James moved in,”* Oliver said. *”Hes brilliant, isnt he?”*
I smiled. James *was* brilliantkind, patient, everything my first husband wasnt. After the divorce, Id raised Oliver alone for three years, juggling two jobs, falling asleep with his schoolbooks in my lap. Then, at a parents evening, I met Jamesalso divorced, raising Thomas.
We took it slow, terrified of repeating mistakes. But love, stubborn thing, outlasted fear.
*”Emily, Im home!”* James voice carried from the hallway.
*”Dads back!”* Oliver dashed off to greet him.
I watched him go. Oliver had welcomed James effortlessly. Thomas, thoughThomas was a battlefield.
James wrapped an arm around me, kissing my temple. *”Hows everyone? Wheres Thomas?”*
*”In his room. James Sarah called earlier.”*
His face darkened. Sarah, his ex-wife, Thomas mother. Every call from her was a grenade.
*”What does she want now?”*
*”Thomas for the weekend. Says hes withdrawn, struggling at school.”*
*”And you said?”*
*”What could I say? Of course he can go. But she implied”* I hesitated.
*”Implied what?”*
*”That its my fault. That Im cold to him.”*
James sighed, slumping into a chair. *”You know thats rubbish. Youve done nothing but love him.”*
*”But does he feel it?”* My voice cracked. *”Oliver took to you straight away. Thomas still flinches when I reach for him.”*
*”Give him time. Oliver remembers your exhaustion, your lonelinesshe was ready for a father. Thomas had both parents, then suddenly didnt. And Sarah fuels his resentment.”*
I knew it. After our wedding, Sarah declared war. Shed stormed the ceremony, screaming Id stolen her familynever mind that James had divorced her *years* before we met.
*”Remember her at the reception?”*
James grimaced. Oh, I remembered. Sarah, elegant in champagne silk, shrieking insults while guests gawked.
*”Shell never stop,”* he muttered. *”But we cant let her poison the boys.”*
Thomas appeared in the doorway, small and solemn.
*”Come eat, love,”* I coaxed.
He sat as far from me as possible. The usual dagger to my heart. *What am I doing wrong?*
*”How was school?”* James asked.
*”Fine.”*
*”Your teacher said youre distracted.”*
Thomas shrugged.
*”Is something bothering you?”* I ventured.
He shot me a glance, then stared at his plate.
*”Mums trying to help,”* James said firmly.
*”Shes NOT my mum!”* Thomas exploded. *”I HAVE a mum! A REAL one!”*
I blanched. James fists clenched.
*”Apologise. Now.”*
*”NO! Shes NOTHING to me! I hate it here! I want MUMMY!”*
He fled, his bedroom door slamming.
I pressed my hands to my face. James pulled me close.
*”He doesnt mean it.”*
*”He does. And hes right. I *am* nothing to him.”*
*”Emily, stop. Sarah and I were over long before you. You know why.”*
I did. Sarah had affairs, flaunting them, claiming marriage suffocated her. Yet when James filed for divorce, shed suddenly foughttoo late.
*”Thomas doesnt know that. To him, his life fell apart when I arrived.”*
*”Hell understand when hes older.”*
*”Until then, Im the villain who stole his dad.”*
Oliver peeked in. *”Mum Thomas is crying.”*
James and I exchanged helpless glances.
*”Ill talk to him,”* I said.
Knocking on Thomas door, I whispered, *”Can I come in?”*
A muffled *”Go away!”*
*”Please, love. I need to tell you something.”*
Silence. Then a small *”Okay.”*
He was curled on his bed, facing the wall. I sat gingerly on the edge.
*”Want to hear about my dad?”*
No reply, but he stilledlistening.
*”My parents split when I was eight. Dad left for another woman. Mum remarriedUncle Mark. Know what I did?”*
Thomas turned slightly.
*”I hated Uncle Mark. *Hated* him. Thought if I was awful enough, hed leave, and Dad would come back. I broke his things, screamed, threw tantrums. Poor Uncle Mark he never stopped trying.”*
Thomas rolled over. *”What happened?”*
*”I grew up. Realised Dad left *long* before Uncle Mark. He just fell out of love. Uncle Mark loved us, wanted us happy. But by the time I understood”* My throat closed.
*”Too late?”*
*”He died when I was sixteen. I never thanked him. Never said I loved him.”*
Thomas studied me. *”Aunt Emily do you want me to forget Mum?”*
*”Never. Youll always love her. I just want us to be friends. Im not replacing her.”*
*”You wont make me call you Mum?”*
*”Only if *you* want to.”*
*”And if I miss her you wont be mad?”*
*”Of course not.”*
*”Can I tell you about her? How pretty she is?”*
I smiled through tears. *”Whenever you like.”*
That Saturday, Sarah collected Thomas. Through the window, I watched hertall, glossy-haired, designer coatguide him into her sleek car. Me, in my worn jumper and jeans, waved back, forcing a smile.
James hugged me from behind. *”Hell come home.”*
*”I know. Its just shes so *put together*. And Im”*
*”Youre *everything*.”*
Sunday evening, Sarah returnedbut this time, she marched upstairs, face thunderous.
*”We need to talk,”* she hissed.
*”Thomas, go to your room,”* I said gently.
*”NO,”* Sarah snapped. *”He stays. Listen to this.”*
She yanked out Thomas schoolbook. *”His assignmentMy Family. Shall I read?”*
Her voice shook with rage:
*”My family has five: Dad James, Mum Emily, brother Oliver, me, and my real mum Sarah. Mum Emilys kind. She cooks my favourites and helps with homework. She doesnt make me call her Mum, but I know she loves me. And I love her too. Mum Sarahs glamorous and has fancy dresses, but shes always busy. Mum Emilys home when I get back from school”*
Sarah slammed the book. *”YOU did this! Poisoned him against me!”*
*”I never”*
*”LIAR! Youve *stolen* him! Made him compare us!”*
James stepped in. *”Sarah, calm down. He wrote the truth. Emily *is* here when”*
*”I HAVE A CAREER! I cant *play house* like your little homemaker!”*
*”I work too,”* I said softly. *”I just”*
*”Just *what*? Took my son? First my husband, now *this*?”*
*”M
