“Oh, honey, I’m still learning,” she’d say with tears in her eyes. “I’m trying so hard to be a good mother to you. I guess I’m just not perfect like your real mom was.”

Dad would always comfort her, telling her she was doing great. And I’d feel guilty for even bringing it up.

Then the comments started.

“Jocelyn, don’t you think that skirt is a little short for school?” she’d say in front of Dad. “I just worry about what message you’re sending.”

When I got excited about making varsity soccer, she said, “That’s nice, dear. Just remember, not everyone can be good at everything.”

The way she said it made me feel small.