Valued

A mother’s job is the most unappreciated and at most times, overlooked. Mothers don’t get a raise or a commendation for the job done. Often than not, all they have is a constant struggle to meet the demands of the family.

As a mother, I can live without gracing the covers of a magazine or getting an award, but there are days when it rankles when I have spent three hours laboring in the kitchen and all the kids want to do is to spit out the food I cooked.

Growing Up

(I had too much fun writing ME, the last post, that I had to write a sequel to it.)

Once upon a time, not quite so long ago, I had another conversation with my true self—the girl who at times don’t know her mind, but can be sure of certain things. She is certain that she wants to grow up, but is still not sure what growing up is. So we played Grown Up.

ME

Today I had a talk with my true self-- the girl who is too loud but is quiet and pensive most times. She was the one who knew exactly what she wanted but I have failed to remember. And today, she reminded me of the things that I have forgotten.

Better Dreamer

Something about racing gets me on the edge of my seat, and off of it, jumping, waving and shouting wildly. I usually avoid being IN the race as I am very slow. Really slow.

I remember being in my P.E. class running with a classmate and being evaluated by our P.E. teacher. My running mate got to the end of the track while I still labored on huffing and puffing my way to it. Even with all the effort I made, I was still extremely slow that our PE teacher can’t help but ask, “Are you running or walking?”

Heart Check

It’s 2013! A new year, a new beginning, a fresh new start to vault into higher purposes looking at life with Heaven’s perspective, doing humble duties with a positive attitude and with noble motivations in mind...

It’s January 1 (as of writing) and I am sitting in a mall with an over-sweetened iced drink, my notebook and pen in hand while watching people go by. It’s one of my favorite past time-- people-watching and thinking. That is, if my face is not buried within the pages of a book or I am not desperately digging around for books in a bookstore, which I just did minutes before coming to sit down in this café.