Conscious Parenting Is Cute… Until Your Ego Gets Checked

Okay family… now this is a story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down.

Don’t act brand new. If you didn’t rap the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air intro in your head, I have questions. But I digress.

If you’ve been rocking with me for any length of time, you already know I practice conscious parenting. And let me be clear, conscious parenting is not for the faint of heart. It requires constant unlearning, frequent self-checks, and a daily wrestling match with your own ego.

Baby… today was no different.

We kicked off 2026 with a Texas ice storm, and she did not come to play. Schools closed, days blurred, and cabin fever moved in like an unwanted houseguest. With nowhere to go, the boys relied on devices as their main social lifeline. And honestly, I get it. When you’re stuck inside, you want to connect with your people however you can.

For Myles, that looks like extended group FaceTime calls with classmates and friends. And like clockwork, during any extended break, I start hearing the familiar complaints:
“He said this to me.”
“He doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

They’re eight and nine. The frontal lobe is under construction, emotional intelligence is loading slowly, and they’re mimicking what they see modeled around them. Myles is my “say it with his chest” child. He’s expressive, emotionally charged, and deeply relational. When a friend says something hurtful, he doesn’t just brush it off. He wants to understand what went wrong and see if the friendship can be repaired.

That child did not get my friendship philosophy.

That’s Bryce. He moves like me.

See, I’m firmly in the you get one time to show me who you are camp. I don’t do three strikes. I don’t linger. I operate heavily in the DELETE. DISOWN. LEAVE. BLOCK. IGNORE. school of peace preservation. Shoutout to @CAABCustoms for capturing that energy so beautifully on a graphic tee.

Myles, however, lives in the “let’s talk it through” space. Growth. Repair. Understanding. Bless him.

So when he ran to me upset and said a friend told him he didn’t want to be his friend because his breath stank… I responded from ego first.

“Phuck him.”

Listen. It was not my finest hour. But at that moment, I was sitting at a solid 8.5 out of 10 on the Let Them meter. My tolerance for anything threatening our mental or emotional well-being was low.

He ran off more upset than before.

That’s when I had to pause and ask myself the question I return to often:
What would Tanisha do?

Because conscious responses are not always my default. I don’t always get it right. But one thing I refuse to do is double down when I miss the mark. So after that pause, I went into his room, sat with him, and we talked.

I validated his feelings. I asked how the comment made him feel. Did he think it was true? What did he want to do next? After talking it through, he decided he wanted to take a short break from FaceTime with that group.

About thirty minutes later, I heard his iPad buzzing again. He wasn’t answering, so I checked in. He told me he felt ready to re-engage and wanted to tell his friend that the comment wasn’t okay and set a boundary.

Before he could do that, he joined the call and heard the word “monkey.”

He asked, “Who said monkey?”
Another child said it was the same friend and it was directed a him.

Myles immediately said, “Yeah, I’m leaving,” and hung up.

In our home, we have very clear conversations about words that are not meant for you. As soon as our boys are old enough to understand, especially once they enter broader school environments, we talk about language and safety. Words like monkey, ape, nigga with the hard R or the A are non-negotiables. They are not playful. They are not jokes. They are not allowed in connection with them.

I’ve been consistent about this since birth. You will not find monkey imagery anywhere on their baby registries. No “mommy’s little monkey” onesies. If it came into my home, it quietly left. That has always been my line.

If you’re Black and unbothered by that word, that’s your business. But don’t bring it to the Jamison household.

What struck me in that moment was realizing my son had listened. He remembered. He applied what we’d discussed and removed himself from the situation. He sat with it quietly.

Me? I was livid.

But I couldn’t hand him my rage. He doesn’t carry my lived experience. And this is where conscious parenting asks you to do the hard thing.

I’m the cut-you-off-and-never-look-back type. That works for me. It does not work for this child. So I stretched.

Instead of reacting, I modeled conflict resolution.

Before you grab your pitchforks and label these kids or parents villains, pause. This moment wasn’t about punishment. It was about understanding and alignment.

I reached out to the other child’s mother and asked if we could talk. I explained what happened and why that word is a hard stop in our home. She immediately shared that it wasn’t racially motivated. The child’s grandfather uses the word playfully, and it hadn’t been framed as harmful in their household.

Then she did something rare.

She asked me how she could approach the conversation with her son.

No defensiveness. No dismissal. Just openness.

I shared how we talk about language in our home. I explained that my boys are taught that slurs of any kind are unacceptable, including words that don’t apply to them. They are also taught that if they hear language that feels unsafe, they should remove themselves and find an adult.

As a parent raising two Black boys in today’s climate, I can’t afford to send them into the world uninformed. The ignorance we see online is being absorbed in homes every day, and children adopt what feels normal based on what they’re taught.

We ended the conversation in a better place than I expected. She thanked me, followed up after speaking with her son, and committed to being proactive in addressing topics moving forward. That matters.

I don’t have the capacity or desire to educate adults. Books exist. Podcasts exist. But when it comes to children, I believe there’s a responsibility to engage and see if growth is possible.

Today, my son taught me two things.

He has been listening.
And he has been watching.

Another prayer answered. That my children see my faith, my values, and my love through my actions, not just my words.

Today, I was his compass.

So I’ll leave you with this:

How are you modeling conflict resolution for your kids?
What would you have done differently in this moment of conscious parenting?

Let’s talk.