Mom,s Life

The child who grows up with two homes but one team of parents…
learns that family isn’t broken, it’s just built differently.

They learn that love doesn’t disappear just because it has two addresses.
That home can be found in both places
in the smell of mom’s cooking,
in the sound of dad’s laughter,
in the safety of knowing they’re wanted in both spaces.

They don’t feel torn when both parents choose to work together.
Instead, they feel doubled.
Double the cheers at games.
Double the hugs at milestones.
Double the support when life feels heavy.

They don’t see parents competing for their attention.
They see parents sharing it.
They don’t feel pressure to choose sides.
They feel the freedom of knowing they don’t have to.

And that changes everything.

Because kids who grow up with two homes but one team of parents
learn that love isn’t defined by walls or a roof.
It’s defined by consistency.
By presence.
By showing up.

One day, they’ll become adults who know that “different” doesn’t mean “less than.”
They’ll believe in healthy love, because they saw respect outweigh resentment.
They’ll build families of their own without fear that love can’t survive change.

So when you see a child running between two homes with a smile,
know this:
They’re not broken.
They’re not missing out.
They’re whole.

Because family isn’t about where you live.
It’s about who shows up.
And kids who have two homes but one team of parents?
They grow up knowing they are loved everywhere.

Stop telling foster parents they cannot feel pain.

Stop telling them they knew what they were signing up for.
Stop telling them they are just glorified babysitters.
Stop telling them they are not real parents.

We are the ones rocking babies through withdrawals at 2 a.m.
We are the ones showing up to court, school, and therapy.
We are the ones wiping tears after visits that left them broken.
We are the ones loving them like they are our own because while they are here, they are.

Yes, we know reunification is the goal when it is safe.
Yes, we know this is not meant to be forever.
But do not mistake that for detachment.

We bond.
We love.
We grieve.

That is not weakness. That is the cost of loving children in hard places.

Foster parents are not babysitters.
We are not placeholders.
We are parents in every way that matters for as long as a child is in our home.

And the fact that we are willing to open our hearts knowing it will hurt is not something to mock.
It is something to respect.

I’m not raising my kids to have everything, I’m raising them to experience everything.
I had a good childhood. One filled with love, laughter, and lessons. But we didn’t have a lot. Money was tight, and “extras” were rare. We made the most of what we had, but I always told myself that one day, if I could, I’d give my kids the chances I didn’t get. Not because I grew up unhappy, but because I want them to experience life,really live it.

It’s not about spoiling them. It’s about supporting their curiosity, their passions, their sense of self. Because I know that the things they fall in love with now, the hobbies, the friendships, the experiences, will help shape who they become.

I love watching their faces light up when they discover something new they love. I love being able to say, “Go for it,” instead of, “We can’t afford that right now.” It’s a small thing, but for me, it feels like closing the gap between what I wished for and what I can now give.

The best part? It’s not just about material things, it’s about opportunity. The chance to explore, to fail safely, to find what makes them them. And every time I see them dive into a new interest or chase a new dream, I see the cycle shifting away from “we can’t” toward “we can, and we will.”

I may not have grown up with much, but I grew up knowing what mattered. And now, I get to blend that foundation with possibility to give my kids not just the things I never had, but the freedom to become everything they’re meant to be.

Your little ones aren’t interruptions.
They’re eager to belong.
They want to pour the ingredients, tighten the screws, and clean beside you.
They’re not trying to slow you down — they’re trying to grow with you.

Invite them in.
Even if it means extra time.
Even if it means more cleanup.

Because a day will come when they won’t reach for your hand to help anymore —
and you’ll long for the moments when they did.

BRO, IF YOUR BABY'S MOTHER takes care of your children day in and day out taking them to every appointment, making sure they eat, stay safe, and are happy, and you still can’t respect her, you’re the kind of "man" that will never respect anyone. She is the hero who picks up all your slack to ensure the little humans you created are taken care of. She loses patience, sleep, friends, alone time, and more just to pull her weight and yours. So the next time you call her names or belittle her, think about everything she does for your child. You little boys need to open your eyes. Being a full time mother isn’t easy. Respect is the least you can give her.

The sacrifices she makes are immeasurable, and her efforts often go unnoticed or unappreciated. She's the one who nurtures, cares, and loves these tiny humans, often putting their needs before her own. She's the one who sacrifices her own identity, dreams, and aspirations to ensure the well-being of your children. And what does she get in return? Disrespect, belittling, and a lack of appreciation.

You need to wake up and smell the coffee, bro. Being a mother is not a part-time job; it's a 24/7 commitment that requires patience, love, and dedication. And if you can't even show her the basic respect she deserves, then you're not just disrespecting her, you're disrespecting yourself and your own children.

It's time to take a hard look at yourself and your behavior. It's time to acknowledge the unsung hero who works tirelessly behind the scenes to keep your family afloat. It's time to show some gratitude, some appreciation, and some respect. Because, let's be real, bro, you wouldn't be where you are without her.

Show up exhausted.
Show up undone.
Show up with kids who aren’t in the mood.

Bring your little ones when sleep is just a dream.
Pull up a chair when your heart is too full to hold it alone.
Sit quietly if you don’t have the energy to speak.
Let your frustration breathe if the world feels too heavy.

There’s no mask required here.
No forced smiles.
No need to prove anything.

Come exactly as you are.
I’ll stand beside you.

Motherhood was never meant to be walked alone.
You deserve your people.
Let me be part of your circle. 🤍

To the One Who Was Raised by a Parent Who Wasn’t Sober,

You didn’t get the version of childhood you deserved.
You got the kind where the air in the room shifted depending on how many drinks/substances they had. Where you learned to read slurred words like a second language. Where you memorized the creak of the floorboards and the timing of moods.

You became responsible too early.
Too quiet. Too careful. Too aware.

You kept secrets. You made excuses. You hoped they’d change. And when they didn’t—you wondered if maybe you were the problem.

But you weren’t.

You were just a kid—wanting stability, safety, and love. And what you got was inconsistency, broken promises, and emotional whiplash.

Maybe they were functioning enough to convince the outside world everything was fine. Maybe no one saw what happened behind closed doors. Maybe you still question whether it was “bad enough.”

But trauma doesn’t need to be loud to be real.
It doesn’t need to come with bruises to leave scars.

And now, you’re here—doing the work.
Trying to build a life where love doesn’t come with fear. Trying to be the kind of parent you needed.
Trying to rewire a nervous system that never got to rest.

And I just want to say:
I see you. I honor the weight you carry.
And I’m proud of the way you’re learning that peace is your birthright—not a privilege.

You didn’t deserve the chaos.
You deserved to feel safe.
And it’s okay to grieve what you never had.

You’re allowed to walk away from their pain without carrying it any longer.

You don’t owe them your healing.
But you do owe yourself your freedom.

And you’re finally allowed to have it.

“The Kind of Love That Stays”
I didn’t know my heart could stretch this far
until I held the child of my child.
Something ancient and eternal stirred inside me
a love that felt like both a beginning and a return.

I see my son in the curve of his daughter’s smile,
my daughter in the way her little boy laughs,
and suddenly, I’m back in the rocking chair,
soft hair against my cheek,
the sound of lullabies echoing through the years.

I remember the long nights,
the prayers whispered over cribs,
the hope that I was doing it right.
And now, here I am, watching the next chapter unfold,
realizing those ordinary days
were the very best days of my life.

There’s something holy about being a grandparent.
It’s seeing your legacy walk on tiny feet.
It’s being known not for what you did,
but for how deeply you loved.

It’s the way they run to you,
arms wide,
no judgment, no expectations—
just joy.
Pure, unfiltered joy.

It’s the way your house becomes alive again
with toy cars and bedtime stories,
crumbs on the counter,
and laughter in the halls.
And for a little while,
you forget how fast time moves.

You find yourself thanking God
for letting you live long enough
to see the fruit of your prayers.
You remember the moments you almost gave up,
the seasons that felt endless,
and how somehow, grace carried you here.

Now you look at your grown children—
parents themselves—
and you see how much they’ve learned,
how much they’ve forgiven,
how much they’ve become.

And when you hold that grandchild,
you know what matters most.
Not the house,
not the titles,
not the years you wish you could redo—
but this.
This small hand wrapped around your finger.
This moment where heaven feels near.

Because being a grandparent
isn’t just watching life continue—
it’s seeing love multiplied.
It’s the kind of love that doesn’t fade with age.
It only deepens.
It stays.

With a child like Joel…what do you actually do???
Obviously not what his dad does because…. surely that doesn’t count as parenting!!!!

But in last night’s episode and what he did to Vicki ( it had my full attention!!) we saw different parents try different things but I don’t think they’re getting through to their kids.

So what do you do with a child like Joe? Do you always show him there is someone stronger than him? Do you only try and be vulnerable with him or do you have to institutionalise him? 😭😩🥲

I’m just thinking if someone has a kid like this IRL what can you even do?!!! Scaryyyy

How could this boy ask such a question?

“Ndimwe bofunta?” (Are you a mental patient?) he asked Idah Banda Musakanya, his voice soft but trembling. Idah, with a smile that carried both grace and sorrow, replied, “No.”

We thought that was the end of it. But then, with eyes searching for something deeper, he asked again:
“Koma ine… Ndine ofunta?” (Unless me right, am I really a mental patient?) And in that moment, something broke inside us. All of us, as if moved by one spirit, cried out: “NOOO!”

It wasn’t just a word. It was a cry from the soul. A cry that said, you are seen, you are loved, you are whole.
And then… he smiled. Not the smile of someone who had been reassured, but the smile of someone who had just been embraced by truth. A smile that said, I believe you.

We are here now, with this boy and his grandmother who have been sleeping at Chipata Level I Hospital. We are preparing a surprise for them. They don’t know yet. But they will. And when they do, may that moment remind them-and us-that love doesn’t always shout. Sometimes, it whispers through a smile.

Meanwhile check our first comment and do justice for us👇

It’s okay if you don't love your stepchild.

(Cue the collective GASP from the peanut gallery.)

Whoever decided that it was a stepparent prerequisite to “love them like your own” must have lived inside a lovely Hallmark movie, completely unaware of the nuances of millions of different stepfamilies.

Some children welcome stepparents with arms wide open. Some are being coached into hatred by their other parent. Some were babies when stepparents came into their lives and don't remember any differently. Some are teenagers whose worlds turned upside down just last year.

It’s easy to love a child who wants to be loved by you. It’s much harder to love a child who wishes you didn't exist, or only visits twice a year, or believes that if they make you miserable enough, you'll leave and their parents will get back together.

If you struggle with guilt because the thought of your stepchild arriving for the week makes you wince instead of smile, I see you.

You're not an “evil stepmom,” You're human. Society may make you feel like you can only marry or be with someone if you already love their kid too, but the truth is that a bond with someone else’s child cannot be forced.

At best, it takes time. At worst, you may be giving everything You've got just to have a respectful relationship that doesn't cause harm. And that’s okay!