Even now, she still picks the cheapest option whenever we eat out, always wanting us to save our money for ourselves and the important things.

What she doesn't realize is that she’s the reason I work hard. The reason I push myself.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I love you. You’ll always be my biggest motivation. ❤️

We shared months together in our own little space, and I was honestly terrified to meet her. From the moment we met, she brought out the best version of me. She taught me resilience, patience (though it still feels like it’s never enough some days) and humility. She continues to surprise me in the best ways.

What once scared me about parenting has become less dreadful - like chapters I can pour myself into, full of lessons and growth not just for my girls, but for me too. It has never been easy and I’ve had my fair share of ups and downs as a parent, but this stays true - my capability to love so unconditionally is something I would never trade for anything.

I could share so many unforgettable moments as a mom, but nothing compares to the memory of meeting the one that made me one.

It was overwhelming. No mother is ever truly ready for something like that.

The countless hospital visits, diagnostic tests, and the number of times my baby was pricked by needles—it broke my heart each time. Yet through it all, I had to stay strong for him and for the rest of my family.

During his hospitalization for surgery, I was incredibly grateful to still be able to work. A huge thank you to Hammerjack for giving us the flexibility to be present for our kids while continuing to grow in our careers.

Wishing a Happy Mother’s Day to all the amazing Hammermoms out there—you are stronger than you know.

It was quiet in the room, but inside me was a storm. Fear, excitement, exhaustion, and awe all tangled together. And then, there you were. Tiny, wrinkled, with a cry that made my heart both ache and swell. When they placed you on my chest, the world shifted. Time stopped. I didn’t see the nurses or hear the beeping machines. All I saw was you.

I had waited months to meet you—months of wondering what you'd look like, what your laugh would sound like, who you'd become. But in that moment, none of it mattered. You were here. Real. Warm. Breathing. Mine.

That first night, I didn’t sleep. Not because you cried much—you were surprisingly calm—but because I couldn’t stop watching you. I kept checking to make sure you were breathing, that you were okay, that I hadn't just dreamed you into existence. Every sigh, every stretch of your tiny fingers, every blink felt like a miracle.

And I was terrified. Terrified I’d do it wrong. That I’d miss something. That I wasn’t enough for you. But somehow, even through my trembling hands and sleep-deprived tears, you seemed to trust me. You looked at me like I was your whole world—and in that look, I found the strength to try.

You taught me what unconditional means. Not just love, but patience, surrender, grace. You softened parts of me I didn’t know needed softening. You made me fierce and gentle all at once.

And every day since, as I watch you grow—learn to smile, to crawl, to speak—I realize I’m growing too. Becoming not just your mother, but the woman I was meant to be.

So thank you, my sweet child, for making me a mom. For choosing me. For showing me that love isn’t just something you feel—it's something you become.

It’s a daily battle of tantrums - flying toys, fearless climbs up stairs and windows, endless running, and non-stop cries and that is all while I’m trying to hold it together and work.

The “terrible twos” are real, and yes, it is exhausting. But I live for these moments. I love it when she looks for me, when she seeks my comfort, when she grabs my hands with her little fingers. These moments never fail to fill the gaps in my heart and gently answer all my “what ifs”.

Lately, I’ve been reminiscing - watching old videos and looking through pictures (and yes, it made me cry!). It hits me that life really has no rewind. She’ll never be that tiny and cutesy again (acute na siya now)… and this time, I want to live it more and cherish every bit of it.

Behind this picture is a day full of little tantrums! She was a bit cranky with her mum (I guess?) for making her wear that dress with the itchy flower design :D

I have three kids. Aya, my eldest—my only daughter—she’s my cool cucumber. Always watching the chaos unfold like she’s just at the movies. Then there’s Aki, my 7-year-old boy, who feels all the feelings all at once. And finally, there’s Arkin—my 5-year-old—sweet, sneaky, and apparently very resourceful when it comes to household weaponry.

So, picture this: Aki and Arkin are playing in the living room. All seems well—too well. That kind of calm where your mom senses start tingling, because you know the storm is coming.

And then… it happens.

I hear a cry. Not your average "he took my toy" cry. No. This was a primal, soul-shaking scream from Aki. I run over, and what do I see?

Arkin—tiny, innocent-looking Arkin—is holding our pure Narra rolling pin. You know the one your grandma gave you? The heavy one that could survive the apocalypse? Yeah. That one. And Aki? Blood pouring from the top of his head like someone turned on a faucet.

Aya? She’s just… laughing. Like it’s a sitcom. I'm like, "HELLO? BLOOD! CHILD! HEMORRHAGING!" And she’s over there like, "He looked so funny, Mom, the way he screamed!"

Meanwhile, my husband takes one look at the blood—and faints. Just like that. Boom. Down. I’m suddenly the only functioning adult in a room full of carnage and cartoon-level nonsense.

Instinct kicked in. I grabbed a towel, pressed it to Aki's head, trying to stop the bleeding. I’m praying, yelling, squeezing, wondering if I’m qualified to be a field nurse because this felt like combat.

3 to 5 minutes later—thank everything—the bleeding stops.

I’m still shaking, heart racing, my shirt soaked in someone’s blood (hopefully not mine), when suddenly…

The boys are back at it. Running, giggling, like NOTHING happened.

Ten. Minutes. Later.

I’m standing there, holding the murder weapon—I mean, the rolling pin—my husband still horizontal, Aya still laughing, and the boys are arguing over a toy truck like one of them wasn’t just concussed.

And in that moment I realized something:

Motherhood is wild. It’s not the soft-lit diaper ads. It’s blood and fainting husbands and rolling pins flying through the air.

It’s holding it all together with one hand while holding the bleeding child with the other.

And yet... I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

But I am hiding that rolling pin.

She’s the kind of woman who walks into a room and suddenly everyone’s posture improves. Confident. Alluring. Like she’s in her own perfume commercial. But it’s not just the looks—she’s kind, she’s fair, and when she gives, she gives like there’s no tomorrow. She’s been an overseas worker in Israel for more than 30 years, and somehow, after all that time away, she still runs our house like she never left.

But nothing—and I mean nothing—prepared us for that day in high school.

She was finally home on vacation, freshly showered, wrapped in a towel, hair still wet, smelling like sampaguita and imported shampoo. We were just lounging around when suddenly—vroom-vroom—my cousin shows up outside on her shiny new motorcycle, revving it like she’s in "Fast and the Furious: Barangay Drift."

And then—without warning, hesitation, or any regard for local gossip—my mom walks out the front door, still in her bath towel, hops onto the back of the motorcycle like she’s auditioning for a movie called "Fifty Shades of Barangay Grey."

My brothers and I froze.

For two seconds.

Then all chaos broke loose.

Three teenage kids, sprinting around the village, waving towels, clothes, scarves--any clothing we can get our hands on-- in the air, shouting, “MA!!! PUT THIS ON!!” It looked like a parade—except the parade queen was my mom, wind in her hair, towel flapping dangerously, looking way too confident for someone half-naked on a motorcycle.

The neighbors? Oh, they got a show. Tita Baby nearly choked on her pancit. Mang Feanco waved--Waved!

And my mom? She just laughed. Like a queen on a chariot. Zero shame. Just joy.

Eventually, we caught up to her, wrapped the towel around her like she was a Miss Universe contestant in a spa-themed national costume, and begged her to please never do that again.

But honestly?

That moment stuck with me. Because yeah, we were embarrassed to death—but also, I saw something powerful.

I saw a woman who, after decades of sacrifice, distance, and hard work, finally let loose. Who didn’t care what people thought. Who rode that bike with joy, in a towel, because why the heck not?

That day, I realized: my mom isn’t just cool—she’s fearless. And maybe a little too spontaneous when freshly showered. But unforgettable.

And I wouldn’t have her any other way.

When I got my dogs, she stepped up even more, making sure they were cared for—especially when they were sick. She gave them the same love and attention she gave me when I was down. Her mother's instincts always kicked in, no matter what the situation. Her patience, calm, and understanding are unmatched. If I had the chance to be reborn, I’d still choose her in a heartbeat, and I’d make sure she has everything she wants and needs. She’s not perfect, but to me, she’s the absolute best mom.

Love you, Ma! And to all the moms here, Happy Mother's Day!!

Fast forward the time came. I grew up, I was in the legal age and my mom needed me so, I flew all the way from Philippines to Middle East, only to realize that my mom is going to have a surgery that's why she needed me. During my stay there I saw everything. I saw her life there, realization hits me big time and I cried to my mom. I felt sorry and I felt all her sacrifices, her loneliness, her longing for us for a really long time. So I decided to stayed with her and worked as well for the first time. I saw how tough she is and I was really amaze on everything she did for us. My mom is so cool and the strongest woman I know and I'm proud to be her daughter.

Now I have a family of my own. I still look for my mom everytime something comes up😅. Another realization for me is that even if I'm old enough and mature enough. I still need my mom specially during those down times. I still feel her unconditional love and how excited she is as a grandmother to my son. Now I'm much more comfortable to raise my son knowing that I was raised by the strongest and wisest mom by my side.

I LOVE YOU EVERYDAY MA!❤️ HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!❤️

Our love wasn’t loud; it was subtle but deep.

She’d make me breakfast and dinner without me asking, pick up my favorite snack when she went to the store, and wait with me every morning until my ride came; and always waving goodbye like it was the most important part of her day. It wasn’t the loud kind of love or spoken words - just something quietly shared through actions.

Even my second name, Rose, came from hers — Rosanna. A little piece of her I get to carry with me.

And if there’s a next life, I’d choose her to be my mom all over again.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mama!

As a mom of twins and at the same time, a first time mom, I always wonder and fear how will we nurture them. Are we able to give the same attention to both? Are we able to meet both babies' needs equally? Are we doing it right?

There's a lot of unforgettable moments we had already. The sleepless nights were experienced doubled, as we already formed the 2AM gang - one will start the command by 'crying' and the other one will be woken up by the command cry of his twin brother. Everytime we need to run some errands or go to somewhere, we always packed everything like soldiers going to war— 2 diaper bag, 2 pair of backup clothes, many bottles, extra burp cloths, and 2 strollers - everything is doubled.

Above all else, I'm thankful and blessed for having the twins and for discovering a kind of love that stretched my heart in ways I never imagined.

Happy Mother's Day to us, HammerMoms! ♥

Thank you, Mama for everything. I love you so much. Happy Mother's Day!!! <3

We were far from perfect, and our circumstances were far from ideal, but her sacrifices are something I can never fully put into words. This photo captures one of those simple yet beautiful days: a Mother’s Day when we celebrated not just her strength, but the love, resilience, and quiet perseverance that kept our family whole. She has always cared for us with unwavering dedication, and through her, we’ve seen and felt just how deeply God loves us. She is a living testament to His grace—a blessing we are endlessly grateful for.

I always put her advice into heart -''Never stop loving'' and she lives that truth everyday. 😭❤️

lovelovelove (Krissy laugh)

Dear Mama Josie,

Salamat sa pagiging Superwoman ng buhay ko! Grabe ka, Lodi sa lahat ng bagay—parang may infinite energy ka - Motolite ba battery mo?? di ka napapagod linisin buong bahay eh kulang na lang pati bahay ng kapitbahay eh linisin mo!! Salamat sa walang sawang pagmamahal kahit minsan para akong WiFi—strong ang signal sa katigasan ng ulo!

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY SA LAHAT NG MAMA NATENG LAHAT AT LAHAT NG HAMMERMOMS! <3

It felt like just yesterday you left us, but I know you are in a much better place to rest and be at peace.

I love you, Ma!

Saranghae, Eomma! 💖

In that moment, it felt like the ground shifted beneath me. There were so many emotions, confusion, fear, sadness, and an overwhelming sense of the unknown. I worry about what his future would look like, and whether I would be strong enough to guide him through it.

But overtime, that moment became less about the diagnosis and more about discovery. Lukas has shown me a different kind of beauty in the world - one filled with honesty, resilience, and a quiet strength that inspires me every day. He's taught me to celebrate small victories, to listen more deeply, and to love more deeply.

What once felt like the most difficult chapter turned out to be the most defining. That diagnosis didn't limit him; it opened a new path - one where every step, no matter how small, is meaningful. And walking that path with him has been the greatest gift of all.