Hello 🤍 I’m Grace—a Kindergarten teacher by trade and a mother by heart, grounded in my faith and led by His grace. My world is choreographed by the laughter of my two little ballerinas, who turn every ordinary day into a performance of love and a bit of beautiful chaos.
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.
Whether I’m flouring the counter for a baking session, reflecting on the lessons of marriage and career, or reviewing a story that moved me, I am always searching for everything beautiful. Join me as I navigate the dance of who I am and who I am becoming.
Lately, I've been realizing just how important it is to be mentally and physically present for our children. And honestly, the guilt has been hitting me hard.
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.
Maybe this season of life is teaching me that love isn't always about being there every second of the day. Maybe it's also about making sacrifices, even when they break your heart a little. But tonight, if I'm being completely honest, I just miss being with my children. And I think a part of me always will. 🥺🤍
If weekdays are the pages we hurry through, then weekends are the ones we read slowly.
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.
Until then, we'll keep turning these pages together—one beautiful weekend at a time.
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."
Grabe, maiyak-iyak ako sa conversation namin ng toddler ko tonight. 🥺
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. 🥺
To all the working moms silently carrying this kind of guilt and longing in their hearts every day, I see you. We're doing our best, even when our hearts ache the most. ❤️
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.
No matter what has or hasn’t happened in your life or how many questions you have about it, know this: you are still perfectly loved by the Most High God.
Everything about God is about His love for you! It was His love that caused Him to plan our redemption. It was because of love that Jesus came to the earth to die a horrible death and pay the price for our sin.
The Bible doesn’t say God sent Jesus because He was angry with mankind. John 3:16 says He came for you and for me because He loves us. Never doubt it!
It is the kind of love that does what is best for you at every turn, whether that means correcting you or bestowing a blessing on you.
Some days, being a working mom feels heavier than I expected.
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.
To all the moms out there trying to balance everything while silently missing their babies every day… I see you. This season may be hard, but it doesn’t make us less of a mother. If anything, it shows just how deep a mother’s love can go. ❤️
Missing those baby days—crying, staying at home, and simply being with my kids all day.
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. 🥺🤍
Still… I know I’m going to miss this version of me so much.
Tonight was one of those small, ordinary moments that quietly turned into something unforgettable.
It came to us as a bit of a surprise. We’ve been gently teaching our 2-year-old daughter to say “sorry” whenever she hurts someone—even when it’s unintentional. You know, the usual parenting routine… repeating, reminding, modeling, hoping someday it sticks.
And then tonight happened.
The kids weren’t asleep yet, but we were already lying in bed, trying to rest. Our 8-month-old baby was crawling around, curious as always, slowly making her way toward her ate. Her ate, on the other hand, was busy exploring a mini cabinet—opening and closing it like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
Then in just a second, it happened.
She opened the cabinet door, and a cup fell—straight onto the baby’s head.
My heart jumped.
I immediately got up and carried the baby away, just to prevent anything else from happening. She cried so hard, the kind of cry that makes you question everything. I wasn’t even sure—was she crying because of the impact of the cup, or because I suddenly pulled her away?
Everything felt a bit overwhelming in that moment.
But then… something soft, something unexpected, happened.
Our toddler walked closer to her baby sister. No prompting. No reminder. No “what do you say?” from us.
And in her small, gentle voice, she said,
“Sorry, baby.”
I froze for a second.
Then I looked at my husband—and we both just smiled. That kind of smile that says, “Did you hear that too?”
Before we could even react, she hugged her little sister and gave her a kiss.
And just like that… the crying slowly faded.
Baby calmed down in her ate’s arms.
And my heart? Completely full.
In that quiet moment, I realized something important.
All those times we thought she wasn’t listening…
All those times we kept repeating simple lessons…
All those little efforts we made every single day…
They were sinking in.
Not perfectly. Not instantly. But deeply.
Because empathy can’t be rushed.
Kindness can’t be forced.
But when it grows—it shows up in the most unexpected, beautiful ways.
Tonight, I didn’t just see my toddler say “sorry.”
I saw her feel it.
I saw her care.
I saw the beginning of a sister who will protect, comfort, and love.
