Still Trying, Still Growing: A Mama’s Honest Parenting Diary

Y’all, I really thought that by the time my oldest child turned seventeen I would have at least a basic grip on this parenting thing. Sis, guess what. I am still winging it. Like, fully. I keep waiting for the moment where I wake up and magically know what the hell I’m doing with these boys, but nope, I’m still over here Googling, praying, crying in the shower, and then pulling it together like nothing happened.

Don’t get me wrong. There are battles I’ve managed to win. Some were small victories, some damn near took me out, and some left permanent scars that I wear like invisible war paint. And then there are the battles I know I’m still fighting today. I know I’m not the only mama who feels like this, so if anyone has some practical advice they want to share, please step up to the mic one at a time. No crowding around the podium. We are all struggling together.

Jokes aside, this parenting journey has been the most intense, educational, soul-stretching class I’ve ever enrolled in. My certificate better be made of gold one day because the tuition is outrageous. I’m paying in blood, sweat and tears.

Here’s the truth I’ve learned. You can rebuild yourself after almost anything. And I mean anything. Some of my hardest failures tried to swallow me whole, but my boys kept me alive. They gave me a reason to dry my face, square my shoulders, and stand up again even when life was dragging me across the floor. I’ve had recent professional failures and relationship disappointments that would have had me curled up in bed if I didn’t have three sets of eyes watching how I handle life when life hits back. Because to them, their mama has never failed at anything. And I want to honor that.

As Black women, especially Black mothers raising Black sons, we deal with a different level of pressure. We are expected to be strong, soft, wise, patient, protective, professional, resilient, and magical all at the same time. And most of us are doing all of that while healing from things we never had space to unpack.

Here are a few practical things that have been helping me keep my footing while trying to raise good men in a world that doesn’t always protect them:

1. Giving myself permission to not know everything

There is no perfect path for motherhood. Our families, our experiences, and our challenges are unique. What works for one mama may not work for another. Giving myself grace has kept me sane and it took some time for me to realize and accept this.

2. Establishing a real support system

Every mother needs at least one friend who understands what it means to raise Black boys in America. Someone who can talk you off the ledge, remind you that you’re doing your best, or send a “you good?” text when the house is too quiet on a school night.

3. Creating moments of emotional honesty with my boys

We don’t have to pretend to be superheroes twenty four seven. When I show them how I handle disappointment or stress in healthy ways, they learn that vulnerability is not a weakness. It’s a strategy.

4. Teaching life skills early

Not just chores, but emotional language, decision making skills, financial basics, and confidence. I want them to grow into men who know how to lead their own lives without fear or ego.

5. Protecting my peace at all costs

Motherhood is heavy. Being a Black woman is heavy. Being both at the same time? A whole workout. I am learning that when I take care of myself, I show up better for my boys.

So yeah, I may still be winging it, but I’m doing it with intention. I am choosing to grow right alongside them. And honestly, that might be the real win.