Final Blog...Again
Dear Blog
When people ask about my family, I usually pause for a second—because it’s hard to sum up a crew like mine in just a sentence or two. We’re not small. We’re not traditional. Furthermore, we’re definitely not quiet. We are real though. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from growing up in a blended family of ten kids, it’s that love doesn’t always follow a formula.
I live in Idaho now for school (BYU–Idaho, shoutout), and my older sister Azren lives in Arizona, closer to home. Being away has actually helped me look at my family with fresh eyes. Back home, there’s my mom, my stepdad, Big Mikey (he’s not technically "big" but the nickname just works), and my siblings—a full squad of brothers and sisters, all with their own personalities, jokes, and noise levels. It’s a beautiful kind of chaos.
Mike, my stepdad, honestly deserves his own blog post. He does most of the cooking (and somehow makes it fun), is the mastermind behind “chore time” being something we actually laugh during, and is always down for a late-night gas station run. He’s super chill, goes with the flow, and never tries too hard to "act like a dad," which—ironically—makes him a pretty great one. Furthermore, he earned our respect not by demanding it, but by showing up, being steady, and caring in his own way.
But let’s be real: it hasn’t always been sunshine and Slurpees. Blending a family is hard. There were a lot of moments growing up where things felt unclear or even awkward. After my mom divorced the younger kids’ dad, Jasper, it created a ripple effect. There were unspoken tensions between siblings—who’s close to whom, what parent do you feel most connected to, and what “side” are you on? These weren’t things we talked about out loudly, but we felt them. In nuclear families, those lines are usually pretty straightforward. For us? Not so much. There were invisible lines drawn sometimes, and we were all just trying to figure out where we stood.
What helped me personally was finding unexpected connections. This year, I got close to my sister Madison. We didn’t grow up together—she has a different mom, but we share the same dad—and we only recently started getting to know each other. I clicked, and now we’re always calling each other, spilling the tea about work, boys, and whatever family drama is currently unfolding. Even though we didn’t have a shared childhood, we’re building a bond as sisters that’s real and full of understanding. And that’s the cool part about blended families: you don’t always know where your closest connections will come from.
Azren, on the other hand, has been my built-in best friend for a while now. We both live away from home, but even with states between us, we have this unspoken “I got you” vibe. We check in, vent, laugh, and keep each other grounded. Sometimes, being away from the chaos gives you clarity—and makes you appreciate the madness a little more.
Another thing that makes blended families different is how traditions are formed. In a nuclear family, most traditions are passed down. In our house? We had to make our own. Some were totally random—like what counts as “family movie night” or how chores are split. It took time, arguments, compromise, and a lot of adjusting. Somehow we got there.
Reading about the differences between nuclear and remarried families in class made me reflect hard. There’s no guidebook for families like mine. In the process of learning and growing in a family like mine, you learn things like how to communicate better, how to be flexible, and how to give people grace when they’re figuring it out too.
So yeah, my family’s blended. We’ve got different parents, pasts, personalities—and a lot of love. We’ve been through confusion, change, and a lot of growing pains. Through all of that, we’ve also built something strong, something loyal, something real.
And honestly? I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I love my family forever and always.
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