Month: August 2025

The Stories that Shape Us: Six Minutes, Dragons, and Big Words

The Stories that Shape Us: Six Minutes, Dragons, and Big Words

by Ranada ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I can’t believe it’s been 7 years since I wrote this post about the podcasts Frederick and I were listening to. Back then, we were exploring the joy of shared stories in audio form. Of course, we also watched shows like Yo Gabba Gabba (which came up as a trivia question the other day!) and others as he got older, and we read out loud to each other. Now, those stories have expanded across podcasts, books, and shows—threads that weave together our routines, our conversations, and even the way relate to one another.

Our current car-ride soundtrack depends on what’s happening in the news. Sometimes I start with The Daily or Up First because I think it’s important for him to know what’s going on and to have an opportunity to ask questions or discuss our thoughts before he hears about it or talks about it at school. I want him to have a safe space to be able to process his own thoughts and opinions and to have gentle pushback or validation or whatever else our conversations bring up.

If we have time or if I don’t prioritize the news or politics, our go to podcast right now is Six Minutes. It’s short, interesting, and just the right dose of suspense for our commutes (even though we definitely listen to multiple episodes at a time). Frederick has become a pro at anticipating the plot twists or figuring out the mysteries (just like my mama!), and we get to have “What would you do if that were you?” convos, and my hope is that we’re regularly building blocks for his critical thinking. Also, this morning, because of the plotline, I asked him if he thinks he’d be friends with me if he met me when I was a kid. We had an interesting exchange about that, and of course, I’m also thinking about what I’d think about my parents if I met them at my age (or as kids). Food for thought!

TV wise, we’re watching the How to Train Your Dragon animated series. After watching the live-action movie before school started, Frederick wanted to dive deeper, and here we are. Now it’s part of our evening unwind over dinner. This too has become a jumping point for conversations, and I love that for us.

Of course, books are still a large part of our lives, even though we’re no longer reading out loud to each other. We started listening to Dear Haiti, Love Alaine, and while the story pulled us in quickly, it also got a little heavy sooner than expected. We decided to press pause, a reminder that it’s okay to honor our own pace with stories—especially ones that carry real weight.

In the meantime, he’s deep in his reading list for his school’s Reading Bowl team. Right now, The School for Invisible Boys has his attention. It’s been so fun to see him stretch his imagination while also honing the discipline of reading with a purpose. The way he breaks down plot points with me—plus the sheer size of his vocabulary at 13—reminds me that all these years of bedtime stories and library trips are bearing fruit.

What I love most is that none of this is just passive consumption. Every book, every show, every podcast has the possibility of sparking a conversation. We talk about fairness, bravery, identity, tough situations, ethics, and so much more. Sometimes the conversations are lighthearted and fun, and sometimes they’re unexpectedly deep. Sometimes they are the gateway to sharing experiences or problems that maybe wouldn’t have been discussed otherwise. Sometimes hearing his general perspective is so insightful. Each one is a reminder that these shared stories are shaping him—and me too.

Parenting doesn’t come with scorecards, but when I hear him pull out a word that makes me pause (words or word combinations I know most adults wouldn’t reach for so easily) or get excited about choosing our next podcast or book, it feels like a quiet nudge from the universe: You’re doing alright. Keep going.

What are y’all reading and/or watching with your kiddos? Let me know!

Soundtrack of My Life: Reading Rainbow

The Burden of Strength

The Burden of Strength

by Ranada ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

People talk a lot about the blessing of being strong. They call it resilience. They call it beating the odds. They admire how you always get back up, keep moving, keep holding it all together. However, they rarely wonder or ask what it costs.

The truth is, being “the strong one” is a lonely place to live. It means that when life piles on, when your body is tired, when your heart is stretched thin–people assume you’ll handle it. They forget that you, too, need soft places to land. They forget that the defender sometimes needs defending. They forget that you’re human and are sensitive even if you don’t usually wear that sensitivity on your sleeve. They forget that strong doesn’t mean unbreakable.

These days, the weight feels heavier. I’m watching my parents age. I can see their needs growing, and with it my worry: worry that I won’t have enough time, enough resources, enough of me to give. At the same time, I’m raising a teenager. Teen years so far feel complicated and overwhelming. They require an abundance of patience (that I do not always have), guidance, and the kind of steady love that doesn’t waver even when your child pulls away. Doing it alone sharpens the edges of that challenge. There’s no one to trade shifts with. There’s no one to tag in when I’m drained. There’s no one who witnesses what’s going on.to vent to. There’s no one to brainstorm with in moments of strife. There’s no one to carry half the load.

My life feels like it’s becoming a balancing act between generations. I’m trying to give my child wings while also making sure my parents still feel held. And in the middle of it all, I’m trying not to lose myself while I pursue my passions and try to do my part in this world.

The hardest part? Very few people check on the strong ones. They assume we’re fine because we make it look fine. Yet sometimes, we aren’t. Sometimes we’re standing in the kitchen at midnight staring into the fridge, wondering if anyone sees how tired we are. Sometimes we’re smiling through the meeting or the church service or the family dinner, holding back tears because we know if we let them fall, we might not stop. Sometimes we’re biting our tongues when people talk recklessly to or about us because we feel like we have to be the bigger person. Sometimes we want to not be the responsible one who considers everyone else because we never seem to be considered. Sometimes we want to be more (or perhaps less?) than the person held to the highest of standards. Sometimes we want to be given the benefit of the doubt when things go awry. Sometimes *I* just want to feel like someone has my back no matter what.

But alas. Here I am. On a Friday night fighting through my feelings of so very rarely being held with care. And of course, this isn’t a plea for pity because pity is something I can’t imagine being given either. It is, however, a reminder—for me, and maybe for you, too—that strength and softness can coexist. That the strong ones deserve tenderness, too. That it’s okay to admit the load is heavy, to ask for help, to say out loud, “I need care.”

So if you love someone who always seems to have it together, check on them. Handle them with care. Let them know that they matter. They may not say it, but they need it. If you are that person—the strong one—let this be permission to take off the cape for a while. To breathe. To rest. To be held, instead of holding everything. I can’t tell you just how to do that because I haven’t quite figured it out myself. But I do know we deserve it.

Because even the strongest need somewhere safe to rest and recharge before going back out there and being that one.

Soundtrack of My Life: Hear My Call by Jilly from Philly