Dinner together in a new blended family feels forced at first. Forced is how a lot of good habits start.

Awkward is what new arrangements feel like from the inside, and it is not a verdict. A table of people who did not grow up together has no shared rhythm yet: no established jokes, no routine about who speaks first, nothing to fall back on when a silence arrives. Repetition is the only thing that fixes that. What feels staged in March is what Wednesday is by September.

Turn up to the ones you can and bring something to say. One question for somebody at the table, prepared in advance if that helps. And if it is too much some nights, say so to your parent rather than disappearing.