A Child’s Tears, A Mother’s Healing.

 

Today reminded me of something I often forget:

People, whether kids or adults, sometimes feel emotions they can’t name or understand.

And sometimes, before we react, we need to pause and try to see the reason behind their actions.

I was about to get some sleep.
During these hours, my kids stay with their Mama Bel, so I know they’re safe and well taken care of.

Tantrums aren’t new in our home. With kids, it happens almost every day.

But this moment felt different.

My eldest son, Jiro, who’s four, suddenly cried nonstop. He was looking for his stuffed toy.
Things got worse when my best friend Peng (my kids call her "Nanay") said she had to go home. That’s when Jiro completely broke down.

He screamed. He bawled his eyes out. He was overwhelmed.

Normally, I’d get irritated. Especially when I’m already exhausted and just trying to rest.

But surprisingly… I didn’t feel any of that.

No frustration. No anger.

Just silence.
And then a wave of understanding.

Hearing him cry like that made something inside me click.

Because in that moment, I saw myself in him.

I, too, have had emotions I couldn’t explain.
Moments where everything inside felt too much, and I didn’t know what to do with it.

And if that’s hard for me, how much harder must it be for a four-year-old?

So I got up.

I unlocked the door and went to him.

Here’s what I did:

I knelt down and told him gently, “I’m here.”

I said, “I know you’re feeling big things right now. You might not understand them, but I’m here to help.”

Then I asked, “Can I hug you?”

He nodded. And I hugged him.

I asked what he needed, and he said he wanted his comfort toy, Foxie.

I offered a quick bath (even though he already had one). Sometimes a bath helps me reset, and I hoped it would help him too.

He agreed.

So I helped him shower.
Wrapped him in a towel.
Hugged him.
Handed him Foxie and Snuggles, his two favorite plushies.

“Do you feel better now?” I asked.
He nodded again. “Yes.”

“Do you want to nap?”
He said yes.

So I hugged him again, ran my fingers through his hair, and held him until he fell asleep.

That moment healed something in me, too.

Because if I’m being honest, I haven’t always handled things like this well.

There were days I got frustrated and snapped.
Days I told them to stop crying.
Days I reacted before thinking.

No, I never hurt them.

But my tone? My energy? It showed my exhaustion. My disappointment.

And I know that’s not who I want to be.

I grew up in a home where crying got you punished.
Where showing emotion or expressing yourself meant you’d get yelled at or worse, hit.

I know what that felt like.
I still carry it.

And I refuse to pass that pain down to my kids.

So every day, I try to do better.

Every day, I try to re-parent myself while parenting my kids.

I still have a long way to go.
Still have so much to unlearn.

But this moment with Jiro? It reminded me that I’m growing, too.

If you’re reading this, I want you to remember these things:

Kids are not giving us a hard time—they're having one.

Sometimes, they just need someone to sit with them in the storm.
Someone who says, “I’m here. Let’s figure this out together.”

Reacting is easy. But understanding...

That takes intention.

And love from our kids? Trust? Respect?
We earn that by being present. By being safe. By being kind, even when it’s hard.

Parenting is tough.
You will mess up.
But that doesn’t make you a bad parent.
What matters most is that you try again. 

That you show up. 

That you love them through it all.

Today reminded me:
My son didn’t need a perfect mother.
He just needed me.
Present. Patient. Trying.

Maybe that’s what we all need, too.

If you’re in the middle of a hard moment, take a deep breath.
Pause.
Look at your child, not as someone being difficult, but as someone who needs help.

We’re all doing our best.
We’re all learning.
And that’s enough.

Remember, your love is their safe place, even when words fail. 

Keep showing up, keep trying, because that is what truly matters.

You’ve got this. 

One deep breath, one hug, one moment at a time. 💜