Real Talk

42 days. That’s how long we had with my dad after his diagnosis. 42 days to cram in every word we wanted him to hear and everything we wanted him to know. My dad was a smoker. Actually, he was more than a smoker. He LIVED for his pack of cigarettes. A cup of coffee, cigarettes and a pocket t-shirt (for that pack of cigarettes) are the tangible things of my dad that I will always remember. Lung cancer was obviously always a possibility, but he was our dad and bad things “never happen to your parents.” I am not sure exactly how long he was having issues. He was a pretty stubborn guy and dismissed most things. He worked in Alaska...

My unexpected lesson in fostering leadership started as inconspicuously as any other busy weekday night, corralling the three kids for supper, a soccer game, baths, and bedtime. In the process of trying to hasten bedtime, I scooped up some uniform shorts from the floor and absentmindedly searched the pockets. I found some cryptic note containing our address and tossed it on the counter. I was certain it was another innocuous doodling from morning care. I was wrong. As we picked up my oldest from carpool the next day, my husband and I started the cursory “How was your day?” only to be enthusiastically interrupted. Carson couldn’t wait to inform us that he had started a club, and he sent out...

Many of us would love to live in a world where color is a non-issue. The truth is, though, we don't and that is okay. I actually quite enjoy living in a world where we can celebrate differences. The statement "what makes us different, is what makes us beautiful" may be cliché, but it's so true. I recently have heard some backlash over the whole "Black Girl Magic" movement. People often trend against things they do not understand, and I think it's time that we as women and mothers address the topic. I find my unique, different and minority skin color absolutely fascinating. That is how I feel now, but while growing up it was difficult. There wasn't a lot...

“Terrible Twos” has long been the phrase coined for those tumultuous early childhood years where they begin testing their independence and limits. But I think that’s a lie. Two was a sweet year. We were still the coolest people around. He listened to what we told him to do. And you never had to worry if you were pouring his milk in the right colored cup.   Then came the third birthday, and with it, a newfound sense of independence while simultaneously discovering his emotions. Enter, the THREENAGER. One minute, he’s lovingly cuddled up enjoying a book with you. The next, he’s in tears because his favorite fork is in the dishwasher. He sets the table perfectly, often without being asked to....

Dearest Friend,  Thank you. Thank you for opening up to me about your struggles, your insecurities, your marriage and your life. Thank you for teaching me what vulnerability really means. Thank you for being transparent in a world where so many of us, including myself, are afraid of being authentic and strive to present ourselves as though we are happier and better off than we really are.  We only met a little over a year ago. We have no real history or longevity between us. In some ways, that made it easier for me to open up to you when I began what would become the most difficult and life altering time in my life. You live over an hour away. If...