#dancingwithwords

smoothed the wrinkles with quiet hope,

imagining a day that might feel light.

But somewhere between plans and truth,

a door was left half-closed,

and whispers moved through rooms

where my name was not called.

I stood there holding the softness of my children’s clothes,

wondering how something meant to be warm

could feel so heavy.

Some houses are full of voices

yet leave the heart strangely alone.

Some gatherings look bright from the outside

but dim the spirit once you enter.

So today I choose gentleness over proving strength.

I choose quiet over noise,

peace over polite smiles that ache.

If the road ahead feels heavy with storms,

it is not weakness to turn toward calmer skies.

After all,

a mother carrying two small hearts

must learn which doors lead to warmth

and which ones are kinder to leave closed.

But now that I’m a wife and a mom of two, I see Christmas differently. Hindi na siya tungkol sa akin. Hindi na pwede maging selfish. My heart knows that I need to show my children how joyful and warm this season truly is. I want them to feel the magic I once felt—yung tipong kahit simpleng handa or simpleng moment, sobrang saya.

Kaya kahit minsan pagod, stressed, or overwhelmed, I still choose to create memories for them. I decorate even when I’m tired, I plan little surprises, I play Christmas songs kahit hindi ko ramdam. Because their smiles… that’s where I find my Christmas now.

Maybe the magic changes as we grow older—but it never disappears. It just transfers to the little hearts we’re raising.

As a mom, one of the things I’ve realized is that the world can be both kind and unkind. There will be days when you’ll feel loved and celebrated, but there will also be days when you’ll feel overlooked or even rejected. And that thought breaks my heart sometimes — because I want nothing more than to protect you from every ounce of pain.

But, my love, here is something I want you to carry with you for the rest of your life: you don’t need to be everyone’s favorite. You don’t need to fit into anyone’s standards, you don’t need to change yourself to be accepted, and you don’t need to chase anyone’s approval just to feel worthy.

The truth is, life will not always make you feel chosen or celebrated. People will have their own preferences, their own favorites, and their own opinions. But what matters most is this — you are loved endlessly by me.

I will always be the one standing by your side. When the world seems too loud, I will be your safe silence. When others fail to see your worth, I will remind you of how precious you are. I will cheer for you in every victory, and I will hold you through every failure.

As long as you have me, you already have a home. You have a safe place to run to. You have someone who will love you in every season, every stage, and every version of yourself — from your smallest steps to your biggest leaps.

My child, I know you will grow and face a world that sometimes forgets kindness. But please remember this: you will always be enough. You don’t have to change to be loved, because in my heart, you are already everything.

🌸

I came across a quote today that really spoke to me: “A lily does not rush to bloom—it unfolds when it is ready. Trust your own timing; your moment will come when it is meant to.”

It reminded me so much of where I am in life right now.

As a mom to my little Madeline and soon-to-be mom of another baby girl, life feels like it’s moving at a different pace for me. Sometimes I look at other people my age and see them advancing in their careers, saving more, or building the life I thought I’d have by now. It’s easy to compare and feel like I’m behind.

But then I remember—the lily doesn’t force itself open. It waits until the time is right. And maybe, that’s exactly what I’m doing too.

Motherhood is my bloom right now. Every laugh, every meal I prepare, every new word my toddler learns is proof that I’m growing, even if it’s not the kind of growth society measures with titles or paychecks. This season is shaping me with patience, resilience, and strength—qualities I never knew I had.

Career-wise, I know I’ve stepped back. I pressed pause. But it’s not forever. I’m exploring, preparing, and trusting that when the moment is right, I’ll step into a path that feels right for me and my family.

And personally, I’m blooming slowly into the person I’m meant to be—someone who values her worth, embraces her journey, and learns not to compare her season with others.

Lately, I’ve been drawn to the idea of starting fresh abroad—not for adventure, not even for status—but for the simple dream of giving my family a life that feels steady and peaceful. I think of countries like New Zealand or Canada. I don’t know why exactly, but something about the quiet neighborhoods, the balance between work and life, the focus on kindness and community—it gives me hope.

I imagine myself teaching again, but this time in a different setting. Maybe in a classroom where children come from many cultures, and I get to learn just as much as I teach. I think about how meaningful it would be to grow not just as a mom, but also as a teacher—learning new systems, adapting, building something new from the ground up.

Of course, nothing is certain. These thoughts live in the background—soft, patient, never demanding. I know we have a life here, and I’m grateful. But it’s also okay to dream, right? Especially if those dreams come from a place of love—for my children, for our future, for the kind of peace I hope they’ll grow up knowing.

Maybe someday. Maybe not right away. But just the idea of it gives me a bit of hope on days when everything feels too loud, too tight, too fast.

It’s just a thought—for now.

Tonight, while everything is quiet and the world is asleep, I find myself wide awake — not because of stress or worry, but because my heart is so full. I can’t stop thinking about how much my little Maddy is growing up.

Just earlier, she pointed at the light switch. It was her way of saying, “Turn off the light, Mama. We’re going to sleep.” It’s something so simple, but it means so much. After that, she played on her own for a while, then drank her milk, and finally asked me to rock her to sleep.

Thank God, we didn’t need screen time tonight. She simply played, tapped around her toy boxes, and flipped through her books — just exploring and enjoying quietly. It was one of those rare, peaceful evenings where she was so present in the moment. I really cherish that.

Today, I finally understood something I hadn’t noticed before.

There were times when I got upset—when I raised my voice out of frustration, or called her name a little louder than I should have. I thought she was being too makulit or testing my patience. And in those moments, I expected her to avoid me or cry.

But instead, she would run to me.

Not away. Not in fear.

She’d quietly come close and lay on my lap. No words, no fuss—just a quiet gesture. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I thought maybe she didn’t know what was going on, or that she was just being clingy.

A Piece of My Heart - 03042020