palettemuse

[palettemuse]

Where did my color go?

06212025

Lately, everything feels... different. Not necessarily bad. Just not the same.

I’ve been quiet — not because I want to be, but because that’s all I have the energy for. I used to feel this spark, this lightness, this pink in me. That soft, jolly color that made me feel warm, playful, alive. But now? It feels like I’m losing it little by little.

Motherhood changes you in ways no one really prepares you for. It’s not just the sleepless nights or the endless responsibilities — it’s how your identity begins to blur. You love so deeply, so fiercely, but in that love, parts of you begin to fade. I’m carrying another life inside me, and while that’s beautiful, it’s also heavy. Not just on my body, but on my spirit.

I want this pregnancy journey to be over. not because I’m ungrateful, but because I long to feel like me again. I miss being lighthearted. I miss laughing without reason. I miss the version of myself who wasn’t just surviving.

I’ve been distant, cold even. Especially to my husband. And I know he feels it too. But I don’t have the energy to explain. It’s not about anyone else — it’s about me. I don’t feel jolly. I don’t feel bright. I feel... neutral. Like I’m floating in between who I was and who I’m trying to be.

And yet, I am happy with my kids. They are my joy, my reason, my grounding light. I laugh when they laugh. I feel whole in the moments I hold them. But still, there’s something inside me I can’t explain — something missing, quiet, uncertain. As if a part of me is gently slipping away while the rest of me tries to keep everything together.

And in the quiet, I wonder — will I ever get my pink back? That gentle joy. That soft spark. I don’t know. But I hope.

Even if I can’t see it right now, I’m trying. Every day, I wake up and keep going — for my children, for myself. Maybe one day, when the fog clears, I’ll find my pink again. Maybe it’s not lost — maybe it’s just waiting.

And until then, I’ll keep showing up. Quietly. Softly. Still loving, even if not loudly.

[palettemuse]

Choosing Quiet Over Chaos

06|19|2025

Lately, I’ve been feeling a kind of tiredness that words can’t fully capture. It’s not just physical... it’s something deeper. A quiet kind of sadness that comes from giving so much and still feeling unseen.

I’ve tried to talk, to reach out, to understand. I’ve stayed patient, hoping that maybe things would shift if I just loved a little harder. But sometimes, no matter how much effort you give, the change you hope for never comes.

And that realization hurts.

I’m not angry anymore. Just weary. I’m slowly learning that I can’t keep pouring from an empty heart. That maybe the kindest thing I can do for myself is to stop waiting for something that’s not being offered freely.

So today, I choose peace.

Not because everything is okay — but because I’m ready to stop losing myself in what isn’t.

I’ll continue showing up where I’m needed — especially as a mother. But the part of me that kept holding on so tightly? I’m letting her rest now.

I deserve peace, even in the smallest ways.

I deserve to breathe without walking on eggshells.

I may not know what lies ahead, but for now, I’ll take it one quiet day at a time.

And maybe, just maybe… that’s where healing begins.

[palettemuse]

A Someday Kind of Hope

There are days when I find myself imagining the future — not too far ahead, just a quiet glimpse of what I hope for my children. I picture them joining a ballet class, moving gracefully across the floor, or maybe sitting in a cozy room with music playing, attending a class where their voices can shine. I imagine their little hands learning how to play an instrument — perhaps a violin tucked under the chin, tiny fingers pressing piano keys, or strumming gentle chords on a guitar. Whether it’s through dance, song, or music, I want them to find something that speaks to their soul and gives them confidence to express who they are.

One day, I also hope to introduce them to a sport that feels right for them — something that helps them move with joy, build confidence, and learn teamwork without pressure. More than anything, I want their childhood to be filled with experiences that light them up from the inside.

I dream of giving them more time outside — to run, explore, and simply be kids. Less screen time at home, more turning pages of books, asking questions, building things, and learning by doing. I hope we can focus on practical life skills and gentle routines that teach them independence and curiosity. And yes, I dream of travels too — whether near or far — so they can see and feel the world beyond our everyday.

It’s not about giving them everything. I know I can’t. But someday, I hope I can give them these things — moments that matter, lessons that last, and the space to grow into kind, grounded, and graceful little souls.

It’s a soft, quiet kind of hope… but it’s always there, tucked gently in my heart.

[palettemuse]

Blessed The sky turns blue whenever I’m with you, And fades to grey when I’m without you. You hold me close in December’s chill, And warm my hands in summer’s still. I keep falling for you, time and again, Grateful for love I can’t quite explain. Sometimes I wonder, quietly and true— Do I really deserve someone like you? But even when questions cloud my view, One thing remains— I’m blessed to love you.

A Piece of My Heart - 03042020

I wrote this poem back in February 2020—during a quiet moment of reflection, love, and gratitude. I’m posting it here not just to remember the words, but to honor the feelings that inspired them. Some memories deserve to be kept, not just in journals, but in the open where they can breathe again.

[palettemuse]

Music has always been a special part of our daily routine. I created a playlist on Spotify just for my daughter Madeline, filled with songs she loves and tunes that make her smile—even though she doesn’t know this playlist exists yet.

Each song in this playlist reminds me of the little moments we share—morning cuddles, silly dance sessions, quiet nap times, and those long afternoons where her laughter fills our home. These songs are a part of her growing-up story, and one day, I hope she’ll hear them and feel just how loved she’s always been.

Soon, I’ll be putting together another playlist for our second baby—something equally special and soothing.

Here’s Madeline’s playlist on Spotify:

[palettemuse]

A Small Pause...

It’s just me and my little one at home today. My husband’s at work, and I try to keep things running—chores here and there, even while expecting.

There’s a certain peace that comes when I finally get my baby to sleep. It feels like a small breath of relief. “Finally, I can rest,” I tell myself. But most of the time, rest has to wait. There’s still more to do, and I try to finish everything while the house is quiet. Sana mahaba-haba ang tulog ni baby.

Right now, it’s raining. The sound is calming, the atmosphere still. Yet there’s this feeling I can’t quite put into words. I just want to breathe and cry.

But then I wonder—does that make me weak? Am I a weak mom?

Maybe not. Maybe I’m just human. And maybe it’s okay to feel everything all at once sometimes.

I’ll take this moment gently, quietly—reminding myself that showing up every day is more than enough.

[palettemuse]

June 10, 2025

Today, I just want to slow down and soak it all in. Maddy is growing right before my eyes. She can now point to pictures of dogs and cats, and she’s starting to follow simple commands like sit, stand, crawl, and walk. It’s not always perfect — but we’re getting there, and that’s what makes it even more special.

She even understands little tasks now. When I say, “get your toy,” she actually goes and gets it. That tiny moment felt so big to me.

Lately, she’s been acting so silly — talking like she’s a grown-up, giggling, making faces, and just filling the room with joy. I couldn’t help but record her. Honestly, she’s the only reason I’ve been smiling this wide lately.

My heart feels full in ways I never imagined. She’s so beautiful, so pure.

This… this is exactly why I want to work from home.

My goals shifted the moment I became her mama.

💗

[palettemuse]

When Plans Shift, and Life Happens

There was a time when doors seemed to be opening everywhere—job offers from abroad, exciting teaching opportunities in the city, and even an interview with an international Montessori school. It felt like everything I had been working for was finally within reach. I was excited, hopeful, and ready to take a big step forward in my career.

But in the end, they all remained as emails and conversations that never moved forward. Nothing truly materialized. I didn’t know then that I was already pregnant—and that life had quietly shifted in a different direction. Back in 2023, I had made up my mind to go abroad. But now I see that all of those moments were part of my “almosts.”

Maybe God had a reason why none of it happened. I believe He did. Still, those offers meant a lot to me. They reminded me of my worth and gave me a sense of confidence—that I was capable and qualified, even if I hadn’t landed a public school position here in the Philippines. Maybe my calling to teach is for somewhere else—or maybe, it’s for a different season in my life.

Now, I have my daughter, and soon, I’ll be welcoming our second baby girl. I’m still learning so much every day as a mother. I find myself contemplating whether to work onsite or from home. Working from home feels like the best fit—it allows me to be present for my children, to see them grow and care for them in ways that matter deeply to me.

I was hoping we could provide a better life for our children. We’ve decided to stop at two for now—our hearts feel full. My husband hoped for a boy, but I believe God always gives what’s best for us. And maybe, two girls are exactly what we’re meant to have.

I’m truly praying and claiming that one day soon, I’ll be able to work from home and that we’ll no longer have to struggle financially. I hope we can live more peacefully—focused on our daily lives, with fewer worries and more moments of joy.

We’re still young, and we know we have a long journey ahead of us. But we’re walking it together—with faith, love, and hope for better days.

[palettemuse]

Tonight, the room is dim and quiet, wrapped in a calm I haven’t felt in a while. Our daughter fell asleep earlier than usual, her soft breathing resting on her fluffy little pillow.

As I scrolled through my phone, waiting for sleep to find me, my husband came over and kissed me—once, then again, and again. I missed that. I loved that.

We’re both doing our best every day. I can feel the weight he carries, the quiet stress behind his eyes. He’s thinking of our future, of how to hold everything together.

Then he leaned in close to my belly—our second baby. She was kicking so much, full of life. But as soon as he spoke, she stilled. Like she was listening to her father’s voice. He kissed my belly and gently said, “Don’t get sick easily, baby.”

We talked for a while, soft and slow, until he drifted off to sleep beside me.

And here I am—our daughter snuggled nearby, the house finally still. No noise, no rush. Just love, all around me.

One of those quiet, beautiful moments I’ll carry in my heart for a long time.

[palettemuse]

When the Night Asked Too Much of Me

Last night felt heavier than most.

It began like any other evening—we followed our usual rhythm: warm bath, soft pajamas, bedtime play. I thought we were easing into peace. But as soon as I gently said no to screen time, everything shifted.

Madeline cried.

And then she cried harder.

It wasn’t just fussing. It was the kind of cry that comes from deep, desperate need.

She wanted the phone. She wanted to watch something familiar, something comforting. I offered toys. Books. A cuddle. But nothing else existed in her world except the screen she couldn’t have.

I tried to hold space for her big feelings.

I really did.

But the waves of her cries began to crash against my own fragile edges. I hadn’t rested well. I had worries tucked into every corner of my mind—finances, pregnancy, never-ending chores.

And I snapped.

I raised my voice. I scolded her. I slapped her little butt — not hard, but it was enough to make me feel instant regret. She was still crying. And I felt like I had failed both of us.

So I did the only thing I could think of in that moment — I gave her to my husband and walked away. I went to the laundry area, not because it couldn’t wait, but because I couldn’t face how I was feeling. I was on the edge of tears. I whispered to myself,

“Why is this so hard?”

“Am I still a good mom if I keep messing up?”

I want to gentle parent. I want to raise Madeline with calm and connection. But it’s hard to be gentle when my heart feels so tired. It’s hard to show up softly when I haven’t had time to soften myself.

Later, I hugged Madeline tightly. Whispered, “I’m sorry.” Told her, “Mommy got upset, but Mommy always loves you.” And even though she may not fully understand, I believe she felt it. That I still chose closeness. That I still showed up.

When she finally fell asleep — peacefully, softly — I hugged her close and kissed her again. Quietly, I let the tears fall. It was a small moment, but it was filled with so much love and regret. It was my quiet promise to try again tomorrow.

In that moment, something softened again. In her. In me.

So tonight, I choose to write this down. Not to relive the guilt, but to remember the turning point. The moment I could have stayed in shame—but instead, I chose connection.

This isn’t a perfect story.

But it’s a real one.

It’s the kind that reminds me: I may stumble, but I can always begin again.

If you’re reading this and you’ve had a moment like mine — one you regret — please know you’re not alone. You are allowed to feel tired. You are allowed to get it wrong. What matters most is what you do next.

So today, I will rest when I can. I will breathe deeper. And I will try again, with love.

— A mama trying her best

[palettemuse]

Second Heartbeat, Same Wonder

There’s a quiet rhythm in my days now — a second heartbeat, small and steady, growing beneath my own.

This season feels different. Not louder, just deeper. It came quietly, and honestly, a little unexpectedly. But as the days pass, it begins to feel like something we were always meant to make room for.

This time around, things are calmer. No chaos of cravings, no waves of sickness — just a few quiet nudges from within and a love for cold juice that seems to stay. I still manage most days with full hands and a tired smile, folding little clothes and chasing little feet. Sleep comes late, but the joy comes early.

She’s likely to be a Virgo — thoughtful, observant, a little old soul tucked into a tiny body. Maybe that’s why this journey feels slower, more grounded. Like she's already helping me find steadiness in the middle of uncertainty.

Because yes, there are worries. Quiet ones. This wasn’t something we had planned so soon. And honestly, we’re not as ready as we’d like to be. Not everything is in place — especially the parts that involve numbers and bills and checklists. But still, we show up every day with what we do have: trust, prayers, and a heart that's learning to let go of control.

We don’t need to start over completely. Soft clothes from before are folded and waiting. Some things, we’ll reuse. Others, we’ll find a way to gather again — in time. And maybe that’s enough for now.

What brings me quiet joy is knowing that my first daughter — still small, still discovering the world — will soon have someone by her side. A built-in best friend, a lifetime companion. Someday, when we’re no longer in this exact place, they’ll have each other to lean on — to talk to, to comfort one another, and to share life with in a way only sisters can. That’s a kind of peace I carry close.

We pray not only for healthy bodies and strong hearts, but for the kind of character that lasts. That they both grow up respectful, disciplined, brave, and kind. That they carry wisdom, not just knowledge. That they walk with compassion and grow with a quiet strength. And above all, that they live with faith — hearts that seek God, even when the world pulls them in every direction.

As for her name — I keep circling back to one. It’s simple, yet strong. It holds a quiet kind of light. One part carries wisdom, the other a calm brightness. It sounds like softness and steadiness, like someone who moves gently through the world but leaves a lasting warmth behind.

This isn’t a grand announcement. Just a quiet note — a way to remember that in the middle of everything uncertain, a new little life is already finding her place in our world.

And I’m finding my way too, one steady heartbeat at a time. 🤍

[palettemuse]

Quiet Afternoons and First Books: A Little Reader in the Making

Today was one of those simple, quiet afternoons that gently reminded me of the beauty of slow moments with my little one. We didn’t turn on any screens or play anything loud. Instead, we stayed in our room, tucked into the comfort of stillness, with only a few books and the soft hum of the day outside.

It was raining too — soft, steady, and calming. The kind of rain that makes everything feel a little slower and a little cozier. I remember days like this when I was younger, curled up in bed with a book, warm and safe. And now, it feels like my little one has taken my place — flipping through her books, tucked in the same comfort I once cherished. It’s such a sweet shift to witness.

She loves the rain, by the way. I don’t let her get wet, of course, but she’s always so fascinated when the sky turns gloomy and the first drops start to fall. She stops and listens, curious and calm — as if even the weather holds a story for her to follow.

She sat on the floor, flipping through each book with such care and focus. Page after page, she explored with her tiny hands, her eyes wide with curiosity. She didn’t say much — just turned the pages as if she already knew what the stories were about. It was a small thing, really. But to me, it felt like witnessing the beginning of something special.

Since she was five months old, we’ve been reading to her — simple picture books, bright colors, soft stories. Back then, she mostly looked, touched, and sometimes tried to chew the pages. But I believed that if I kept showing up, if I kept sharing those stories, one day she would love them too.

There was something about today that filled my heart. It made me hope — hope that these little sessions, these screen-free afternoons, will plant a love for reading in her. I want her to find joy in books, to discover the magic in stories, the lessons in pages, and the quiet confidence that knowledge brings.

I’ve always believed that while children don’t need to know everything early, they do need to feel safe, curious, and encouraged. That’s what I hope these moments offer her: the space to grow, to wonder, and to love learning for its own sake.

It’s not a grand milestone — not a “first word” or a “first step” but it’s a quiet kind of progress. One that reminds me she’s growing, slowly but meaningfully.

More books to come for my little reader in progress.

[palettemuse]

School Days Daydreams: A Happy Momma’s Little Thought Bubble

Lately, I’ve been seeing fellow mommas post about their kiddos going to school—whether it’s their first time or not and it honestly makes my heart feel so full. I can’t help but think, what if my baby is next? Maybe just nursery or kindergarten, or even playschool—but it already feels like such a big moment! And let’s be real—shopping for tiny school supplies and those little uniforms? Absolute cuteness overload.

Then there’s the fun chaos of it all—prepping lunchboxes, making breakfast while half-asleep, brushing little teeth while looking for lost shoes, and fixing their hair before heading out. Especially if you have a daughter… just imagine the hair clips, the tiny socks, and those sweet “Mommy, look at me!” moments. My heart can’t take it!

Of course, I know not every day will be smooth. There’ll be fussy mornings, running late, spilled milk, or little meltdowns over mismatched socks. But even those messy, frantic moments? I know they’ll become some of the most precious memories one day.

Time is flying by so fast. It feels like just yesterday I was cradling a newborn in my arms, and now I’m already imagining school drop-offs, making new friends, and hanging art projects on the fridge. I’m excited, a little nervous (okay maybe a lot 😅), but mostly, I’m just soaking in this stage where everything still feels new, sweet, and magical.

It might seem like a small step for others, but for us mommas? It’s such a special milestone. One of those beautiful “firsts” that stays with you forever.

So for now, I’ll keep daydreaming—until that first school day finally comes. ✨

[palettemuse]

Little Moments, Big Milestones — Maddy at 15 Months

Today, I just want to bottle up these tiny, magical moments with Maddy and keep them forever.

While watching the “In and Out” video by Ms. Rachel on YouTube, Maddy grabbed her little basket of toys and started copying exactly what Ms. Rachel was doing. She babbled, “in... out,” and looked at me with the biggest smile—like she had just solved a secret code. And just like that, a simple moment became a milestone. She still does it sometimes, repeating the play like it’s her own little show.

She walks freely now, with so much pride in her tiny steps. From our room to the kitchen—no falling, just pure determination. Days are flying by. I still can’t believe we’re already at this stage.

She tries to jump and even run a little. It makes me nervous a hundred times a day, but underneath the worry is joy—so much joy.

Maddy’s favorite game lately? Playing ball. Her rainbow ball is her treasure. She kicks it around like a little soccer player, chasing it down the hallway with laughter in her footsteps. She loves it, and I love watching her play.

At bedtime, she finds comfort in lying on me, her safe place. Sometimes, even when she’s already sleepy, she still climbs into my arms—because it’s where she feels most at peace. Soon, she’ll be a big sister. These cuddles are even more precious now.

She’s learning to eat on her own, holding her spoon and fork with purpose. It’s messy, but it’s hers—and that independence is blooming beautifully.

She smiles easily when she’s comfortable, and when someone laughs, she laughs too—as if happiness is something meant to be shared. Our little sunshine, always lighting up the room with her silly ways.

She loves to copy dances from videos, her tiny body bouncing to the rhythm. And when she sees letters, she “reads” them like a tiny professor.

And the rest? It will come in time. For now, I’m just standing here in awe, watching her grow with a heart full of wonder and love.

[palettemuse]

[palettemuse]

One Afternoon

My baby and I were lying in bed. It was quiet, and the afternoon sun came through the window, soft and warm. She fell asleep first, just like she always does. I was still tired, so I let my eyes close too.

After a while, I felt her move. She had already woken up, but she didn’t cry or call for me. She just went to her toys and played quietly nearby. I opened my eyes now and then to check on her, and every time, there she was—just sitting and playing on her own, calm and content.

Later, she came back to me.

“Ma… ma… ma… ma,” she said, her voice sweet and soft.

She looked at me, and then—just like that—she kissed me on the cheek.

It surprised me in the best way.

“Okay, anak. I’m really awake now,” I told her, smiling.

She hugged me. Then she lay down beside me again, like she just wanted to be close.

And I lay there, thinking—how lucky am I to be loved like this?

She’s so sweet. I love her more than words could ever say.

[palettemuse]

Little talks, full hearts

This afternoon was simple, but so special. My one-year-old and I just lay together, side by side, like best friends. There was no rush, no distractions—just the two of us sharing a quiet moment. She kept babbling away in her little language, like we were having our own cozy afternoon chat.

It melted my heart. Her tiny voice, her expressions, the way she looked at me—it felt like we were truly connecting in our own gentle way.

I can’t believe how fast time is flying. It feels like just yesterday I was cradling her as a tiny newborn. And now here she is, holding her own little conversations with me.

My heart is so full. These are the moments I never want to forget. 🥹💗