Grace

​This blog is my digital scrapbook: a space to honor the fleeting light of childhood and the simple artistry of a table filled with good food. Life often throws experiences my way like tangerines—bright, unexpected, and sometimes a little tart—but I find sweetness in every season through God's strength.

Lately, life has been moving so fast. Some days leave me completely drained, and by the time I finally sit down, I realize how much I've poured into the day.

There are moments when I wonder how I managed to get through everything, but then I look around and see all the little reminders of God's faithfulness. I'm grateful for the opportunity to work, to slowly build the life we've always dreamed of, and to enjoy simple things that once felt out of reach.

And at the end of every day, I come home to the role that means the most to me—being a mom. It's not always easy balancing work, home, and everything in between, but somehow, love makes the hard days feel lighter.

I'm tired, but it's the kind of tired that comes from living a full life. One filled with purpose, growth, and countless little blessings I never want to take for granted.

I am so grateful for this job. I prayed for this opportunity, and I know I'm working for our family's future. But there are moments that break my heart in ways I didn't expect. Like when I see my kids playing by themselves while I'm lying down, trying to rest because I'm exhausted from work. In those quiet moments, I can't help but wonder, "What if I never applied for this job?"

For three years, I was blessed to spend every day with my children. I knew their routines, their little stories, their every laugh and every tear. Now, some days, I feel like all I have left to give them is the tired version of me. And as a mom, that hurts more than I can explain.

I know that choosing to work doesn't mean I love my children any less. I know I'm doing this because I want to give them a better future. But no one really talks about the grief that can come with being a working mom—the guilt of missing moments, the exhaustion, and the constant feeling that you're being pulled in two directions at once.

The kitchen fills with the comforting smell of home while little giggles echo through the living room. Our children run after their papa as if the whole world exists within those four walls, and for a while, it does.

Later, we wander outside together, sharing meals, holding tiny hands, and collecting ordinary moments that somehow become extraordinary.

There are tears that need comforting, little bodies asking to be carried, and the occasional tantrums that remind us they're still so small. But between every cry is a laugh, between every mess is love, and between every ordinary moment is a memory quietly finding its place in our hearts.

And for those precious hours, we simply get to be a family. No one questions the noise we make, the way we choose to spend our time, or the joy that fills our day. There are no expectations to meet, no limits on our laughter, no reason to rush—just the freedom to be ourselves, together.

These weekends aren't perfect, and that's exactly what makes them beautiful. They're the gentle reminder that one day, the little feet will grow, the tiny hands will let go, and the house will become quieter.

Last night, our bedtime felt a little more special than usual.

Like every night, Maddy and I cuddled in bed and read a few books together. It's one of my favorite parts of the day—a quiet moment after all the chaos, where it's just the two of us.

As I hugged her, I smiled and said, "I love you, Maddy."

Without thinking twice, she looked at me and softly replied, "I love you, Mama."

I froze for a second.

I turned to look at my husband, and we both just smiled. It was so unexpected, yet it felt like one of the sweetest moments we've ever shared.

It's funny how three simple words from a two-year-old can make every bit of exhaustion disappear. Motherhood can be overwhelming, but moments like these remind me why I cherish it so much.

I know she'll grow up, and one day this bedtime routine will look different. But for now, I'll hold these little moments close to my heart—the cuddles, the books, and the first "I love you, Mama."

As I carried her because she wanted me to put her to sleep, I gently swayed her in my arms and asked:

Me: "Mama will go to work again on Monday. Is that okay?"

Her: No response.

Me: "Is it okay if Mama goes to work and isn't here at home?"

Her: "No, Mama."

Me: "Do you want Mama to just stay at home?"

Her: "Yes, Mama."

Then she looked at me and said,

"Love you, Mama." ❤️

I smiled, but honestly, my heart broke a little.

Being a working mom is so hard. We work because we want to provide the best for our children, but sometimes, all they really want is for us to be there beside them.

God, please help me be strong enough to carry this. Sometimes, moments like these make me feel like I might just resign and stay home with my babies. 🥺

Tonight, I’m ending the day with the fullest heart. 🤍

Earlier, I was cuddling my toddler, pinching her soft little cheeks, and covering her with kisses. Like I always do, I told her, “I love you.” I wasn’t expecting anything in return—I was simply enjoying one of those quiet, ordinary moments that make motherhood so special.

Then she looked at me, reached for my face with her tiny hands, and softly said, “I love you, Mama.”

My heart completely melted.

Lately, being a working mom has been an adjustment. Every morning, I leave my girls to go to work, and while I’m grateful for this season of life, there are days when I miss them so much it hurts. There are moments when I wonder if I’m missing too many little things, too many cuddles, too many ordinary afternoons.

But today reminded me that love has a way of finding us, even in the simplest moments.

That sweet little “I love you, Mama” felt like a warm hug straight to my heart. It reminded me that despite the busy days, the long hours, and the guilt that sometimes sneaks in, our bond remains strong.

Motherhood is funny that way. Sometimes the moments that stay with you forever aren’t the big milestones. They’re the quiet ones—the cheek kisses, the tiny hands on your face, and three little words spoken so sincerely by the person who means the world to you.

Tonight, I’m going to bed grateful. Grateful for my girls, for their love, and for these little moments that make every sacrifice worth it.

It has only been one week since I started working onsite again, but my heart already misses the little routines I used to have with my kids so much. I miss waking up beside them every morning, hearing their voices first thing in the day, preparing everything for them, hugging them whenever I want, and simply being there for all the small moments that used to fill our days.

I never realized how much those ordinary routines would become the very things I’d cry over at night.

And the hardest part is… I am genuinely grateful for this job. I know I’m doing this for them. I know I’m working hard so I can help give them a better future, a more comfortable life, and opportunities I never had. But if I’m being honest as a mom, there’s still a quiet part of me wishing life were easier financially, so I could stay home longer and take care of them myself every day.

I also can’t deny that sometimes, I feel jealous of moms who still get to stay at home with their children or work from home while being present for every little moment. I know every mom has her own struggles, and I truly respect that, but there are days when I wish I could still have that kind of time with my babies too.

Motherhood is such a beautiful but painful kind of love. You carry so much guilt even when you know you’re doing your best. You miss them while you work, and you work because you love them.

Soon, my season as a stay-at-home mom will come to an end. After years of waiting, I finally got a permanent job. I am truly happy… and I’m also proud that I can now help provide for them. Ayokong maranasan nila yung mga pinagdaanan namin.

I prayed for this work, and for this life.

But even with all this joy, there’s a quiet sadness in my heart. It feels like I’m closing a chapter I’m not quite ready to let go of.

For almost four years, I’ve been a stay-at-home mom—and that season became my whole world. And now, I’m about to step into something new.

Uuwi naman ako in the afternoon after class… pero iba pa rin talaga when you’re there the whole day.

They’re my lucky charm, my reason for everything. And I hold on to this truth—everything I’m doing now is for them. 🥺🤍

I was just there… distracted, on my phone (sorry, anak 😔), while she quietly drank her milk. I didn’t even notice when she fell asleep.

When I finally looked at her, my heart sank a little—like I missed something small but important.

So I stood up, ready to clean, to do the usual things moms do.

But then she woke up.

With her sleepy little voice, she kept calling, “Mama… mama… sleep, sleep.”

She gently pulled me back beside her, like she needed me there more than anything else in the world.

And in that moment… I felt it.

That kind of love that doesn’t keep score.

That doesn’t care if you were distracted a few minutes ago.

That forgives you before you even say sorry.

I lay down. I held her close.

And she fell asleep again… safe, peaceful, content—just because I was there.

And suddenly, I wanted to cry.

Because how can someone so small love me this big?

How can she choose me, over and over, even on days I feel like I fall short?

Maybe I didn’t earn this.

Maybe I don’t have to.

Maybe this is grace.

The kind that comes in tiny arms, sleepy eyes, and soft whispers of “mama.”