This year in the Philippines, we have been amidst an election year for a new president. Honestly, I wasn’t too pleased with the options nor the results. In the last six months since the elections, things are looking quite bleak for our nation, with a clear divide between the people. I’ve never seen a more shameful public parade of opinions than in the last year since the campaign period began.
Compounded with the U.S. electoral campaign, my Facebook feed has become almost intolerable. Where there used to be updates about motherhood and the joys of parenting, I now find daily helpings of judgment and strife.
I can’t say more than this. You all know what I mean. We all know what’s being said and hurled around social media.
Everyday, I just get to thinking; What is this world coming to? Were we always this spiteful, this hurtful? Did social media make us more bold to spew out hate from behind our screens, or did it make us more cowardly than ever?
The biggest question of all; How does a mother in this day and age raise a child amidst such horrors? In my own country, things appear status quo on the surface, but we live in constant fear of extrajudicial killings, unsolved murders and deep corruption in the government.
How do you protect your child from what is evil, immoral and debase?
How do you explain to them that the world is still good, despite daily heralds that it is terribly, horribly twisted?
As a mother, all I can do is set an example for my children. Because what I do — whether or not my children see me in action — will reflect in how they turn out. I cannot play with their lives if I am not vigilant with my own character, my values and beliefs. Because like it or not, their perception of me will shape their future.
For my son, I hope that my husband and I can show him how to be a man for others. He is a kind soul, an old soul I feel sometimes. He watches out for his little sister, and has started ninja/martial arts lessons (after his obsession with TMNT), so that he “can protect her.” I want him to grow up to see the good in people, to be a giver at heart. Maybe he can use his talent for drawing in some good way for others; I don’t know. His future is full of possibilities.
For my baby girl, I hope that this world will still be full of wonder for her, as she is still such a baby. (She’s one and a half.) I have yet to find out what she will be like, but I hope to bring her up with a mindset of positivity and bravery, of gratitude and hope. She has such a full life ahead of her, that is why I am adamant to make her world a happy place.
Sigh. I remain hopeful. Maybe I just need to tune out of the news for a while and be with my kids more, so that I can constantly be reminded that we are all inherently good inside. Who’s with me?
Martine is a work-at-home Mom and passionate blogger. A former expat kid, she has a soft spot for international efforts, like WMB. While she's not blogging, she's busy making words awesome for her clients, who avail of her marketing writing, website writing, and blog consulting services. Martine now resides in busy, sunny Manila, the Philippines, with her husband, Ton, and toddler son, Vito Sebastian. You can find her blogging at DaintyMom.com.
I watch my son playing with Lego almost every day. He’s currently using the Basics series, you know, the ones with little neighborhood scenes and people. Most times, though, he’ll create something new, something out of the box and different. He’s an imaginative boy, so I just let him be. Sometimes he’ll work for a long time on a project, not rushing it so that he can get it right (at least in his point of view).
At some point, my daughter eventually locates her big brothers’ work and, well, swiftly ends it. Her brother is five years older, but even then it’s hard for him to not take the attack on his Lego model as a personal thing. “She destroys everything,” he has often lamented, sometimes in tears of frustration. I have to explain to him that his baby sister never means anything intentionally. She is just doing what she knows (and at this stage, it’s to be the arbiter of destruction to her brother’s toys, my laptop and my husband’s coffee gear).
“You can always start again,” I’ve told Vito. “You already know how to build things. Just make something new.”
He sniffs, annoyed, frustrated and impatient all at once. “But she’ll just break it again.”
While stroking his head, knowing he is fighting back tears, I say,
“Yes, she will. But you can always, always build it again. You can make it so she can never break it again. And maybe you can show her how to build, too.”
My boy then walks away, in a mix of emotions, half in agreement, half in annoyance. It’s just a matter of time before he moves on to something else, creating again, imagining again, all the while mindful of what I’ve said.
Sometimes I’ve had to tell myself the same thing: “You can always build it again.”
In the past year, I’ve said this over and over many times. Because life has been kind, but it’s also had its harsh way with us.
We lost our home late last year. It was the first time in six years we didn’t have a home to call our own. “It’ll be OK. You can build it again.” While we can’t build a physical house (not yet anyway), we can make a home with what we have been able to make a new home for ourselves in a small place inside my parents’ compound (which is how many Filipino families live, in fact).
My husband lost his job. It’s been almost a year since my husband has been without a regular job, and since then he has setup a new business making specialty coffee and doing coffee pop-ups. It’s not stable, but it’s a start. “It’s going to be OK. We can build this.”
I failed as a mother. Several times, I can’t even count anymore. I’ve not been the best mom, and sometimes I torture myself over not being present enough for my kids. I totally failed being a work-at-home mom the last two years. It had me out of the house more times than I had imagined possible, and I’ve been beating myself up for it quite a bit. Then I see my kids, ever-forgiving, ever loving towards me. Of course, my children do not need to worry about these things that I deal with in my soul. All they need to know is that “Mom is here, she loves us, she takes care of us. We will be OK.”
Yes, my darlings. It’s going to be OK. I can build again.
And that’s really what I want to tell you, the mom reading this. You can begin again, build again. It may not mean restoring an old thing, it can be something totally new, something you haven’t thought possible before. I’m learning to be like Lego, you could say, and letting life guide the “build,” praying that whatever chapter we’re in, we as a family will learn the lesson, accept the season, and come out of it stronger than ever.
This is an original post by World Mom Martine De Luna, a writer from Manila, Philippines. Find her daily on Instagram @martinedeluna and @makeitblissful.
Martine is a work-at-home Mom and passionate blogger. A former expat kid, she has a soft spot for international efforts, like WMB. While she's not blogging, she's busy making words awesome for her clients, who avail of her marketing writing, website writing, and blog consulting services. Martine now resides in busy, sunny Manila, the Philippines, with her husband, Ton, and toddler son, Vito Sebastian. You can find her blogging at DaintyMom.com.
In the Philippines, we have a saying that the mother is “ilaw ng tahanan.” In English, it’s literal meaning is “the light of the home.” Beautiful thought, right? It conjures up images of a well-made home, filled with laughter and warmth and hope.
It’s nice and meaningful. In fact, I think it’s sometimes a far-fetched notion, because honestly most times I feel I am the polar opposite. It’s hard to feel like “the light of the home” when — like me — you feel like a looming cloud of darkness, failure and hopelessness. I know I’ve felt this way many times, especially in the past year when our family situation was shaken up from its very core.
We have had a tough past six to seven months in our family. When my husband lost his job at the end of 2015, we knew we were going to have to make some big changes as a family. Perhaps the most heart-wrenching part of this episode was saying goodbye to our rental home of five years. I remember my son crying huge tears for several days as he saw his bedroom being packed away little by little, and our house gradually emptied of its furnishings… and most of all, his memories. I felt as though we had let him down.
It’s a common setup in the Philippines to go to family when a situation has gone awry, and that’s what we did.
It just so happened that my mom’s guest house out back had been made available, and I humbly asked my parents if we could stay in that house until we could sort things out. “You can stay as long as you need to,” my mother said, and she meant it. It’s been six or seven months since we moved in, and every day she assures me of the same thing.
And there, I see what it means when a mother is the light of the home. Because for me, my mother restores my hopes each day. We’re still working to get back on our feet, and her encouragement for us remains constant. There is nothing but acceptance and love for myself, my husband and our two young children here in this tiny little home in our childhood garden and backyard. I’m reminded every day of the goodness of my parents, and the Filipino sense of family in which our people so pride themselves. A “light of the home” isn’t something whimsical or aspirational. A mother is a light to her home when she restores hope to a darkened situation or state. No mention of keeping a perfect house or a spotless kitchen!
Maybe you’re not feeling much like a “light of the home,” dear mama reading this today. It’s OK. Like candles, we all get snuffed out at times; we get burned out and we get spent. It’s times like these that we have permission to rely on our fellow moms: friends, our actual mothers, mother figures.
There is nothing more powerful than women helping women, mothers helping mothers. In a matter of time, our light can shine again, brighter than ever.
This is an original post by Martine De Luna for World Moms Blog. Martine is a Manila-based writer and consultant for women in digital (bloggers, online entrepreneurs). Find her regularly on Instagram @martinedeluna and on her blog, makeitblissful.com
Martine is a work-at-home Mom and passionate blogger. A former expat kid, she has a soft spot for international efforts, like WMB. While she's not blogging, she's busy making words awesome for her clients, who avail of her marketing writing, website writing, and blog consulting services. Martine now resides in busy, sunny Manila, the Philippines, with her husband, Ton, and toddler son, Vito Sebastian. You can find her blogging at DaintyMom.com.
Wow. It’s been a lifetime since I last contributed to the blog. My last post was after I had just given birth. After that, things totally took a turn for the busy! And now, my second child is a year old, my eldest just recently lost two of his teeth. Already I’m feeling like I am on the short end of the stick when it comes to time! Just the other day my husband and I realized that, in four years, our eldest would be ten years old. Ten years old. I can’t even begin to fathom what I’d do.
When I watch my kids, I notice how they live in each moment. Have you ever stopped to watch your kids do the same?
It’s different for each child. I have a one year-old baby girl and a fidgety, curious six year-old son. Each day seems to stretch on forever for my six year-old, like when he anxiously awaits a new toy or the arrival of his cousins visiting from out of town. (This past week, his long wait has been his dental appointment, which we’ll go to later today.) After last Christmas Day, he asked how long it would be til the next one and sighed how it would be “forever” until we got there.
For my daughter, it’s like each minute is precious, and five minutes is an eternity away from me. (She’s a high need child, you see.) She cries when I step into the bathroom for a shower. (I’ve mastered those 2 to 5 minute ones, have you?) She complains when I leave for a meeting for an hour. My mother once said, “Imagine if your source of food and drink left you for a couple hours. How would you feel?”, and I now understand my daughter, haha! Poor thing.
We recently had a photo shoot at home with a photographer who specializes in unstyled, “day in the life” pictorials. It was a refreshing shoot, because there wasn’t any time set aside for makeup or hair, or vignette styling or wardrobe changes. It was just us, whiling the time away doing our everyday duties of play, work, rest and play again.
“Why would you pay someone to take photos of you when you’re just in your house clothes?” someone asked me on social media. In my head I replied, “Well, why not?” Because of time constraints and a clingy baby and a rambunctious preschooler and a busy-with-a-new-biz husband and a home in need of care…. I have literally no time sometimes to grab a camera. I should, but I had a friend who took on the task instead. And I’m glad she did, because I saw in those 200 or so photos what I realize I often miss or gloss over any ordinary day. It’s not the activities — I notice those, of course. It’s what threads our days, the feelings of delight, frustration, love, and passion that I sometimes don’t notice. Perhaps I needed someone else to look from the outside into our ordinary everyday, so that I could see just how much I get wrapped in time.
I watched this video recently, which perfectly describes why it feels like time speeds by the older we get. I appreciate the perspective here, and I can vaguely remember how time seemed to stretch on forever when I was a child! But very vaguely, really, like a distant memory. I only hope that as time goes by, I will like my children, live in the present.
I hope to not take each life-stage for granted, and not waste time navel-gazing, grumbling or losing myself to the squabbles of the mundane.
“Life is short… Life is long… but not in that order.”
I couldn’t have said it better.
How do you feel about time going forward, moms? How do you view time alongside your children’s point of view?
This is an original post by Martine De Luna for World Moms Blog.
Martine is a work-at-home Mom and passionate blogger. A former expat kid, she has a soft spot for international efforts, like WMB. While she's not blogging, she's busy making words awesome for her clients, who avail of her marketing writing, website writing, and blog consulting services. Martine now resides in busy, sunny Manila, the Philippines, with her husband, Ton, and toddler son, Vito Sebastian. You can find her blogging at DaintyMom.com.
On January 31st, my family welcomed a daughter, who was an answered prayer and an angel rolled into one cute and cuddly package. We had waited 4 years before deciding to get pregnant again, and so her coming was planned, stemming from a decision my husband and I made that, yes, we wanted to have another baby.
At the time when I learned I was pregnant, a slew of emotions came over me: joy, anticipation, excitement, and all the good fuzzy feelings that come with the thought of having a child you’ve been waiting for. But the strongest feeling that came over me wasn’t all fuzzy-wuzzy and free. I felt a type of uncertainty, honestly.
Could my heart really love another little human being as much as I loved my firstborn?
Well, this last month — the first month of my daughter’s life — I found out that when God decides to give you more kids, your heart grows as well. I feel so much love for both my children.
When I saw my daughter seconds after she came out of me, I felt instantly transported back in time to the birth of my son five years ago, when I felt a surge of energetic, powerful love for my child. I felt the same this time with our daughter, and yet totally different, too. When we went home from the hospital, realizing that there would forever be four of us in the family was also both delightful and daunting.
It’s not been easy. The other day I mused on Instagram about how happy yet extremely hard it is to grow the space in my mommy heart, how difficult it has been especially for my eldest child to adjust with the new person in our home, and how physically tired I feel from the past weeks of newborn care. It’s not that I feel torn between my children — not at all. However, I feel the growing pains, the sweetness and pain. Being a mom of two doesn’t split my heart in two. I know love my both my kids equally, but it is with a love that both enlarges my heart yet feels like it tears it, too.
Does that make sense? I don’t know. All I know is that I’m learning a new way of loving, and that my heart is expanding to accommodate two loves of my life right now. (Well, three, of course, including my husband!)
I’m at the start of a new leg of the journey now. I am excited yet uncertain, but I know for sure that I am full of love and expectancy. I don’t want to rush through any of it! I don’t want to miss out anything my children need me for, whether it be the little one who needs milk, cuddles and carrying, or the “bigger little one” who needs extra understanding, hugs and exclusive mommy time. These tender days of “mommy heart growth” will pass as quickly as my kids shoot up in height! I have got to slow down to savor the accelerated pace of their childhood.
Moms, how did you feel when you had your second child? Can you relate with me?
This is an original post by Martine De Luna for World Moms Blog. Martine is the resident “blissmaker” on her lifestyle inspiration blog, Make it Blissful.
The image used in this post is credited to the author.
Martine is a work-at-home Mom and passionate blogger. A former expat kid, she has a soft spot for international efforts, like WMB. While she's not blogging, she's busy making words awesome for her clients, who avail of her marketing writing, website writing, and blog consulting services. Martine now resides in busy, sunny Manila, the Philippines, with her husband, Ton, and toddler son, Vito Sebastian. You can find her blogging at DaintyMom.com.
At some point, my daughter eventually locates her big brothers’ work and, well, swiftly ends it. Her brother is five years older, but even then it’s hard for him to not take the attack on his Lego model as a personal thing. “She destroys everything,” he has often lamented, sometimes in tears of frustration. I have to explain to him that his baby sister never means anything intentionally. She is just doing what she knows (and at this stage, it’s to be the arbiter of destruction to her brother’s toys, my laptop and my husband’s coffee gear).
I’m a new mom all over again.
