Being Real with Your Kids – By Phoenix Rising
Hey empresses!
So today we’re diving into something that makes most parents want to suddenly remember they left the stove on, need to check their phone, or have an urgent appointment with literally anything else. Yep, we’re talking about those difficult questions our kids ask that we dread answering every. Single. Day.
“Where are you?”
“Why are you never home?”
“When will you be back home?”
And my personal favorite gut-punch: “Mommy, is your job more important than me?”
Insert the sound of my heart shattering into a million pieces here.
The Elephant in Every Room (Or Visiting Area)
Look, let me keep it real with y’all. Most parents who have travel jobs, military duties, long work hours, or, yeah, are incarcerated like me, we’re all dealing with the same core issue. We’re not there. Period. Point blank. No chaser.
Now, okay, YES, there might be one slight difference between someone who travels for work and someone who’s writing this from behind bars (you know, the whole “I can’t exactly hop on a plane and come home for the weekend” thing), but we’re not going to get into all that right now because that’s not the point. The point is this: we all share one thing in common, and that’s not being able to be there for our children during those difficult times of need due to our life circumstances.
The “But the Benefits Though!” Excuse
I know what some of y’all are thinking. “Phoenix, but that traveling job pays better!” “The military benefits will set my child up for life!” “I’m securing their future!”
And you know what? You’re absolutely right. Those benefits ARE excellent. That extra money DOES help. Those opportunities WILL make a difference.
But real talk? Let’s take a seat and discuss something for a moment.
Those parentless nights? Those dinners where your seat is empty? Those school events where they’re scanning the crowd looking for your face? Those are doing damage that no college fund is going to fix. I said what I said. The emotional detachment they’re feeling while you’re “securing their future” is creating wounds that won’t show up on a bank statement but will definitely manifest in their relationships, self-worth, and ability to trust people later in life.
I’m not saying don’t take that job. I’m not saying don’t serve your country. I’m definitely not out here acting like I had a choice in my situation (spoiler alert: I didn’t). What I AM saying is that we need to stop hiding behind the “benefits” and start being honest about the cost. Both can be true simultaneously.
The Lies We Tell (And Why We Need to Stop)
Here’s where I’m going to get vulnerable with y’all, and trust me, this ain’t easy to admit.
For YEARS—and I mean years, empresses—I lied to my daughter. Every single time she asked me where I was, I hit her with the same line: “Mommy is at work.”
Work.
Like I was out here in some corporate office making PowerPoints or something. Like I could clock out and come home if I wanted to. Every visit, same question, same lie. I thought I was protecting her, you know? I thought if she didn’t see the truth, it couldn’t hurt her.
Plot twist: I was wrong. Like, SO bad.
Now my son? He’s way younger, so I excluded him from these conversations completely. Listen, I do NOT need him going to daycare, telling everyone his mom is in prison. Can you imagine? “And for show and tell, I brought a picture of my mom behind bars!” Yeah, no. That’s not the energy we’re bringing to Ms. Jennifer’s classroom right now, okay? We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, but today is not that day.
The Question That Broke Me
But back to my baby girl.
One day, this child looked at me with those big, beautiful eyes and asked: “Mommy, is your job more important than me and my brother? Is that why you can’t leave?”
Y’all.
Y’ALL.
How do you think that made me feel as a mother? Like, really sit with that question for a second. This precious little human that I grew in my body, that I would literally die for, thinks that I’m CHOOSING to be away from her. That I’m picking something—anything—over her.
I wanted to throw up. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scoop her up and run away from this whole situation. But I couldn’t do any of that because guess what? I did this to myself. I put myself in this position. And now my daughter was paying the emotional price for MY mistakes.
That’s when I realized something: by lying, I wasn’t protecting her. I was confusing her. I was hurting her. I was making her question her worth in my life. And that? That was worse than any truth I could tell her.
The Day Everything Changed
A few months before she turned 7, I decided it was time. Time to stop running. Time to stop hiding. Time to have the real conversation.
We’re sitting in a visitation—you know that special place where you have to sit a certain way, can’t touch too long, and there are cameras everywhere reminding you that even this moment isn’t really private—and I asked her: “Baby, what do you think this place is?”
Now, mind you, somebody had already slipped up and told her I was in jail. Kids hear things. Kids know things. But here’s the thing about kids—they’ll almost always believe what their parents tell them before anyone else. So I’d been able to cover my tracks for a bit longer with the “work” story.
She said, “Your job?”
I took a deep breath. “Do you see me wearing the same uniform as the officers here?”
She looked around, then back at me. “No.”
And that’s when I explained to her, in age-appropriate terms because she was only 6, what prison is and how you can end up here. I didn’t give her all the gory details—she’s not ready for all that, and honestly, she doesn’t need to be. But I told her the truth: “Something bad happened, and that’s why I’m here. I have to be here until I learn my lesson and become a better person.”
The Moment That Destroyed and Healed Me at the Same Time
You know what my baby girl said?
Are you ready for this?
She looked at me with those same big, beautiful eyes, now filled with understanding instead of confusion, and said: “Awwww mommy, I don’t think you are a bad person. Mommy, if nobody told you, I forgive you for whatever you did.”
Have you ever seen a grown woman completely lose it because of a lecture FROM a 6-year-old? Well, let’s say they had a “cry cam” in the visiting area that day, and it would’ve caught me absolutely sobbing. Like, ugly crying. The crying where you can’t breathe, your face gets all puffy, and you’re trying to hold it together because you’re in public, but you just can’t.
That moment right there? That’s when I understood the power of truth. The power of transparency. The power of taking accountability with our children.
Why We Avoid These Conversations (And Why We Shouldn’t)
Let’s be honest about why we avoid these tough talks:
We’re scared
Scared they’ll think less of us. Scared they’ll be angry. Scared they’ll be hurt. Scared they’ll love us less.
We’re ashamed
Especially those of us in similar situations. There’s so much shame attached to incarceration, and we don’t want that shame to transfer to our kids.
We think we’re protecting them
We convince ourselves that ignorance is bliss, that what they don’t know can’t hurt them.
We don’t know how to put it into words
How do you explain adult mistakes to a child’s mind? How do you break down complex situations into simple terms?
But here’s what I learned, and what I need you to hear: Kids don’t need perfect explanations. They need honest ones. They don’t require you to have all the answers. They need you to be honest with them.
The Benefits of Being Brutally Honest (Yes, There Are Benefits!)
Now, I know the title of this post mentions benefits, and you might be thinking, “Phoenix, how in the world is there a benefit to having these painful conversations?”
Let me tell you:
1. It stops the confusion
When kids don’t have answers, they make up their own. And trust me, what they make up in their heads is usually worse than the truth. My daughter thinks I chose something over her. That was killing her slowly. The truth, while hard, gave her clarity.
2. It builds trust
When you’re honest with your kids, even about hard things, you’re showing them that they can trust you. You’re showing them that you respect them enough to be honest with them.
3. It teaches accountability
This is BIG, empresses. When we take responsibility for our actions in front of our children, we’re teaching them to do the same. We’re showing them that it’s okay to make mistakes, but it’s not OK to make excuses or blame others.
4. It creates a deeper connection
Those conversations, as painful as they are, create intimacy. They create understanding. They form a bond that surface-level “everything is fine” conversations can never achieve.
5. It prepares them for life
Life is hard. Life is complicated. Life doesn’t always make sense. By having honest conversations with our kids, we’re preparing them for the realities of the world, rather than setting them up for disappointment when they realize everything isn’t perfect.
How to Have These Conversations (Because I Know You’re Wondering)
Keep it age-appropriate
You don’t need to give your 6-year-old all the details. But you CAN give them an honest, simplified version they can understand.
Take accountability
This is NON-NEGOTIABLE. Don’t blame your job. Don’t blame the other parent. Don’t blame circumstances. Own your part. Even if it’s just “I made choices that led me here” or “This is the situation I’m in because of decisions I made.”
Reassure them of your love
Make sure they know that whatever the situation is, it has NOTHING to do with their worth or your love for them.
Answer their questions
Even the hard ones. Even the ones that make you uncomfortable. Even the ones you don’t fully know how to answer.
Keep the door open
Let them know they can come back and ask more questions as they think of them. This isn’t a one-and-done conversation.
The Humor in the Hard (Because Sometimes You Gotta Laugh)
Look, if I don’t laugh about some of this stuff, I’m going to cry. And I’ve already cried enough for one blog post, okay?
Can we talk about how kids have zero chill with their questions? They’ll just hit you with “Why are you in jail?” in the middle of a game of Uno, like they asked you what your favorite color is. No lead-up. No warning. Just straight devastation.
Or how about when you’re trying to have this deep, meaningful conversation and they’re like, “Okay, but can we get snacks from the vending machine now?” Like baby, I just poured my heart out to you, and you’re worried about some Cheetos? I mean, valid, but also… read the room, kid.
And don’t even get me started on how kids will just casually drop bombs in conversation with other people. Thank God I haven’t had the whole truth conversation with my son yet, because I already know he’d be out here telling his entire life story to anyone who’ll listen. “Hi, nice to meet you, my moms in prison, what’s your name?” Sir, please, we’re trying to keep a low profile here!
A Message to All the Parents Out There
Whether you’re traveling for work, deployed overseas, working long hours, going through a divorce, dealing with addiction, or like me, serving time—if you’re not present in your child’s day-to-day life for ANY reason, I want you to hear this:
Your children deserve the truth. They deserve transparency. They deserve to hear from YOU what’s going on instead of piecing it together from overheard conversations and Google searches.
And yes, it’s going to be hard. Yes, it might make you cry. Yes, they might ask questions you don’t want to answer. But I promise you, empresses, the alternative is worse. The confusion is worse. The made-up stories in their head are worse. The feeling that they’re not important enough for the truth? That’s worse than any difficult conversation could ever be.
Final Thoughts from Your Girl Phoenix
Look, I’m not going to sit here and act like I have all the answers. I’m 26 years old, incarcerated, and trying to parent two kids from behind bars. I’m literally figuring this out as I go, making mistakes, crying in corners, and praying I’m not messing them up too badly.
But you know what? I’m doing the work. I’m having the hard conversations. I’m being real with my daughter about where I am and why I’m here. I’m taking accountability. I’m showing her that even when we mess up—even when we mess up BIG—we can still be honest, still be loving, and still show up in the ways we can.
That’s all any of us can do, really. Show up. Be honest. Take accountability. Love hard.
So to all my empresses out there who are struggling with these difficult conversations: I see you. I feel you. I AM you. And I’m telling you right now— you can do this. Your kids need you to do this. And you’re stronger than you think.
Now have that conversation. Take that Transparency Challenge. And then come back and tell me how it went, because I really want to know.
Remember: We’re not perfect parents. We’re not always present parents. But we can be HONEST parents. And sometimes, that’s precisely what our kids need most.
Keep rising, empresses. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. With love and accountability,
Phoenix Rising
P.S. If you take the Transparency Challenge, use the hashtag #TransparencyChallenge and share your experience. Let’s normalize being real with our kids. Let’s normalize accountability. Let’s normalize hard conversations that lead to healing. P.P.S. And if my son’s daycare teacher is reading this… We’ll talk when he’s older, okay? For now, I’m still “at work.” Thanks for understanding.