I always thought motherhood would start making sense once my oldest hit seventeen, but here I am still winging it and hoping nobody notices. Raising three Black boys has taught me more about myself than any job, relationship, or life lesson ever could. I am learning in real time, growing through every mistake, and choosing to rebuild every time life knocks me flat. This is my honest look at parenting while healing, surviving, and trying to shape good men in a world that does not always protect them.
Soft Doesn’t Mean Weak: Thank God for Growth
I was having a conversation with my niece and sister yesterday when my niece boldly told my sister that she had “gotten soft.” I laughed because I, too, have been accused of going soft in my parenting journey. My oldest son once told me that I was way tougher on him as the firstborn than... Continue Reading →
