As I sit down to reflect on the whirlwind moments of the past academic year, I am filled with a quiet sense of joy and gratitude.
Juggling the sacred roles of being a mother, a wife, a student, and a teacher has never been easy— but this year, it felt like everything came into alignment in its own perfectly imperfect way.
This academic year was one of the most demanding, meaningful, and emotionally layered chapters of our family’s story. From school leadership transition moments to birthday rituals, immigration lines to badminton Sundays, and all the laughter, tears, late-night reflections, and tender pauses in between—it has been a journey of showing up, staying grounded, and choosing love every single day. Special shoutout to all our family all over the world who have been supporting us in every single way they know how. We love you all.
And so, with hearts a little fuller, roots a little deeper, and memories still stirring from the moments that moved us, we turned the page to September—ready to begin again, with intention and open hands.
September: New Beginnings and Quiet Celebrations
September always feels like a new calendar in motion—a reset button where responsibilities collide with excitement. It’s the month that signals go-time for teachers and parents alike, and for our family, it was no different. The start of the academic year came rushing in with lesson planning, leadership meetings, and parental paperwork. Stepping into my new role as a lead teacher was both exhilarating and humbling. I was filled with drive, but I also knew I couldn’t have embraced this step without the steady strength and unwavering faith of my husband and our children. They didn’t just support me—they made the transition feel possible.
Amid this professional shift, we celebrated two significant milestones at home. Franco turned 16 on September 3rd, and we honored our heartwarming tradition: an early candle-blowing, a cozy family dinner, and a quiet moment of gift-giving later that night. No grand party—just presence. He received it all with maturity and grace, which made my heart swell. Then came Theonee’s 14th birthday on the 25th—equally intimate and just as special. A tiny cake with flickering candles, breakfast before school, a laughter-filled dinner, and full hearts all around. This year, they both declared it their best birthday ever—thanks in large part to Oma, whose abundance of presents brought wide-eyed joy and extra sparkle to their special days.
Franco’s 16th Birthday Moments
Theonee’s 14th Birthday Moments
Beyond school and birthdays, September unfolded as a month of administrative marathons. We renewed Franco’s visa for the first time without an agent—a milestone in itself. Thanks to the thorough guidance from Love’s school HR and the kind flexibility of my workplace (who allowed time off for immigration visits), we made it happen. And just as we caught our breath, another wave of joy arrived: love boxes from Oma in the U .S., filled to the brim with thoughtful gifts and even Fitbit watches. Her generosity lit up our home, reminding us that love, even across oceans, finds its way through every package and small gesture. This goes the same to my two sisters away from here who would extend their kindness in between their own busy lives. Thank you.
It was a whirlwind month—demanding yet deeply fulfilling, chaotic yet grounding in all the right ways.
October: Outdoor Escapes and Family Strength
October felt like stepping outside to catch our breath while still running a marathon. Professionally, I was involved in an out of town leadership workshop and our school camping trip in Kirirom—a stunning two-hour drive from Phnom Penh. Sleeping under the stars and leading students through nature reminded me how connection is formed not just in classrooms but in shared experiences and unexpected adventures.
It was also the month of dual family celebrations: both my mother’s and father’s birthdays. These two souls have shaped so much of who I am, (a bit scary, I know) and taking the time to honor them—even amidst work’s chaos—was grounding. They are our quiet anchors, holding space for us in their own not so gentle ways.
In October, Franco began his basketball season, while my husband took a bold step and enrolled in his PGCE course. As I watched him dive into assignments and lectures while balancing fatherhood and coaching, I felt proud and inspired. We also achieved a personal milestone: our first 10K run together! It wasn’t easy, but we ran by ourselves (just like how adults would do I must say) and we met at the finish line, cheering each other on, showing our kids that goals are worth chasing at any age.
Then life reminded me to slow down. I fell ill and had to seek hospital care—an unexpected pause that forced me to rest.
Though brief, that experience made me reflect on how quickly we pour from an empty cup. At home, weekends became our space of healing: cooking clean, nourishing meals, as much as possible with some food deliveries once in a while; managing side hustles, and carving out Sunday mornings for our new ritual—badminton, just the two of us.
November: Pressure Points and Tiny Victories
November came packed with pressure and precision. Exam season descended at school, and as much as I tried to keep everything perfectly synchronized, some corners couldn’t be rounded. Yet within the imperfection, I saw what mattered most: the systems I had built as a lead were working, (I would love to think so) my students were supported, and my team was showing up.
Midway through the month, we found ourselves back at the immigration office—this time for Theonee’s visa renewal. As before, it required post-school scrambling, schedule tweaks, and patient waiting. We went as a family, and while it was tiring, there was also something beautiful about how calmly we navigated it all. It’s in those quiet logistics that I see how much we’ve grown together.
In the middle of the madness, my husband and I celebrated our second wedding anniversary. It wasn’t candlelit or dramatic— a little barbecue time over our rooftop with family and the teens’ friends, and badminton. Just the way we wanted. That moment gave me an opportunity to simply enjoy and recognize each other’s presence. It’s amazing how anniversaries evolve with time—less about celebration, more about recognition.
Franco’s basketball schedule picked up, (leaving the house as early as half past 5 for some days in a week) and Theonee threw herself into volleyball ECA games, while Love juggled his new academic load. Weekends still held their rhythm: home-cooked meals, laundry folded with love, and the familiar thwack of birdies at our Sunday badminton games.
December: Voices, Vows, and Festivities
December arrived on a high note. My love’s working place—CIA—celebrated its 20th anniversary, and my husband was given the immense honor of being the voice of the video presentation. Hearing him behind the video, steady and confident, filled me with so much pride. It was more than a job—it was a moment of presence and contribution to the wider school community. He also supported the event by joining the fun run event on that Saturday morning.
On the other side, I joined my second 10K run—this time surrounded by newly invited running friends. It felt symbolic, this widening circle of support and joy. At school, the holiday spirit began to take over: I helped coordinate the teachers’ Christmas gathering, having some Christmas meals and little fun games. And at home, we celebrated my brother’s birthday—a reminder of shared roots and strong ties during Christmas Eve.
Christmas this year was intimate. Gifts were fewer, but laughter was louder.
I’ve slowly released the pressure of gift-giving to every family and friend—a cultural norm in Filipino tradition that I now hold more lightly. Instead, our focus has shifted inward, choosing to spend the season recharging, holding space for loved ones, and offering deep gratitude to the Life Giver, the universe maker—God. The new year rolled in gently with barbecue, warm food, and reflections on how far we’ve come. We also enjoyed some Laububu poppers which Franco and Theonee had fun with. Great to see them still enjoying some children’s stuff, I must say. After the hustle and hard work of the previous months, it felt like breathing again. Happy New Year!
2024- Year End-Recap
January: A New Decade, A New Perspective
January brought with it the quiet weight of reflection and the joyful gravity of turning 40. Entering a new decade felt less about aging and more about anchoring—knowing who I am, what I value, and where I want to go. We went out for a family Japanese barbecue night, which seems to be a tradition now. Thanks to my love for organizing it. It was a memorable evening. The second semester at school began with renewed energy but also heavier responsibilities. I felt more rooted in my role as lead teacher by now, and perhaps because of the camaraderie I found in colleagues, the load—while weighty—felt shared.
This month, however, also taught us how life can shift in the blink of an eye. My husband was involved in a road accident. Thankfully, he healed well, but the incident shook us. Our routines were disrupted. Our physical activities paused. Our family dinners became more intentional, more grateful. The accident didn’t just sideline movement—it stirred reflection. It brought us closer, softened our edges, and reminded us never to take each other’s presence for granted.
In the midst of it all, I made a personal leap—I enrolled in a Bachelor of Education degree. It felt like an act of deep alignment, a commitment not only to my students and my profession, but to my own growth.
Turning 40 wasn’t just a milestone—it became a marker for intentional pursuit, for choosing learning even when life feels full.
We leaned into the routines that could still bring structure and comfort. Sunday badminton was temporarily shelved, but home cooking took a nourishing lead. Our weekends remained filled with healthy meals (like Laswa Soup of Bacolod), laughter, and side hustles—quietly nurturing our long-term dreams. January grounded us firmly in the reality that time is not promised, but love and resilience can carry us through.
February: Small Gestures, Lasting Gratitude
February arrived softly, with its familiar symbols of love—roses, handwritten notes, and heart-shaped tokens—but for us, it was never about grand displays. We marked Valentine’s Day with the quiet warmth of small gestures that linger. My love gifted me a rose plant—alive, growing, and still blooming by the kitchen door. It wasn’t just beautiful; it was enduring. At school, my heart was equally full. My students wrapped me in kindness through sweet messages, and one thoughtful soul even crafted a DIY flower bouquet—proof that love doesn’t need to be loud to be deeply felt.
This Valentine’s, more than any before, I found myself reflecting on the people who continue to inspire, support, and guide us—family, friends, colleagues, mentors. Their steady presence is a form of love too, and I’m learning to notice it more, to say thank you more, to feel held in the simple act of showing up together.
It was also a bittersweet time of transition. Franco played his final basketball games of the season, capping off months of training, teamwork, and court-side hustle. Watching him get along and support his team was emotional—his journey as an athlete has shaped so much of his growth. Meanwhile, Theonee was finding her stride in volleyball, rising in confidence and skill with each match.
Amidst it all, we continued to anchor ourselves in our weekly rituals. Our Sundays found rhythm again with badminton, now that my husband’s strength had returned—a ritual reclaimed, a joy restored. And even as we navigated the financial tightrope of tuition, utilities, and life’s many demands, we did so as a team. With love at the center, we made each choice with care.
February reminded us: love is in the showing up, the cheering on, and the quiet gratitude that fills the spaces in between.
March: Remembering, Releasing, and Rooting
March carried a quiet heaviness cloaked in routine. As the month unfolded, we commemorated my late sister’s birthday on March 20—a day of remembrance woven gently into the rhythm of daily life. It wasn’t marked with loud grief, but with quiet memories, prayers, and candlelight. She was with us, in presence if not in person, and the love remains unchanged.
Franco completed his final games in the basketball league this month. It was the true close of a chapter, and as he stepped off the court that last time, I could see both pride and the quiet sting of goodbye in his eyes. These were the moments I had watched unfold since he was small: the camaraderie, the growth, the handling of wins and losses with grace.
At school, March was a time of closing loops—unit assessments, final parent meetings, and preparing for the transitional days ahead. I also found myself more immersed in the mentoring of fellow teachers, something I have looked forward to, and at the same time had anticipated. My love on the other hand, had enjoyed many activities at the work place, and one of those was the book character dress up day. There’s no doubt, this couple are a big fan of the teaching profession. Aren’t we?
Home life remained consistent and comforting. We kept up with healthy meals (as much as we could), budget check-ins, and our structured weekends. Our side hustles continued to simmer in the background, nurturing dreams we hope to grow with time. Even with financial pressures weighing on us—school fees, sport uniforms, groceries inflating—we paid every bill on time. That’s no small feat, and it’s worth pausing to honor that.
One bright spot this month was a visit from family members traveling from the U.S. We spent a day together in Phnom Penh, laughing, reminiscing, and soaking in the rare joy of shared space across continents. It was a simple kind of wonderful—the kind that stays with you.
Still, March wasn’t without its challenges. A short spell of illness took an unexpected turn, landing Franco, my husband, and me in the hospital—each of us grappling with the same stubborn infection. Though mild, it was enough to disrupt our days and remind us how fragile our routines can be.
Recovery came slowly but steadily, threaded with quiet gratitude for health, rest, and the strength of simply getting through.
April: New Year, New Light
April always brings a burst of warmth and color with Khmer New Year celebrations. This year, our days off from work were simple but full of light. We welcomed the holidays with family rest time, food deliveries, and a perfect time for my Love and I to complete study tasks. Living in Cambodia for so many years now, it felt important—sacred, even—to honor the spirit of the Khmer New Year. In our case, wearing their traditional clothes on those days are the best that we could do. I believe people at work were pretty astonished with the enthusiasm we showed during those celebration days.
Cambodia has truly become our second home, and with each year, we learn more deeply what it means to celebrate both respectfully and wholeheartedly.
We also welcomed a few new things into our lives—like badminton rackets and, yes, an iPhone 16 Pro Max. These were more than indulgences; they were reminders that it’s okay to meet our needs and wants. That after months of discipline and restraint, we don’t need to feel guilty about choosing joy or celebrating milestones with things that add to our rhythm, our connection, and even our self-care.
Sometimes, we forget that nourishment also comes in the form of play, of technology that empowers us, or a new tool that breathes life into routines.
A small milestone this month: Theonee got her first set of contact lenses just in time for more Sports Days. She wore them with a quiet kind of confidence, her movements a little freer, her focus sharp. It was a reminder that growing up doesn’t always arrive in grand gestures—sometimes it’s just a clearer view of the field ahead.
We wrapped up the final parent-teacher meetings at the kids’ school, where both Franco and Theonee received glowing reviews. Hearing the affirmations from their teachers was a tender reminder that the late-night check-ins, the post-school pep talks, the relentless structure—all of it matters. It accumulates in confidence and quiet strength.
On a personal note, I began visiting the gym after work—a new thread of discipline I didn’t know I was craving. There’s something deeply grounding about those post-work sessions, a return to breath, to body, to self. A moment to center and stretch, even when the day has taken everything from me.
It’s a small reclaiming of space amid the noise, but it’s mine.
Financially, April was demanding—with celebrations, health-related expenses, and utilities stacking up. But we endured, knowing that every penny spent was guided by care, not impulse.
May: Rooted in Her, Rising in Me
May began with a familiar rhythm and an uncomfortable interruption—I was unwell for a portion of the month, which forced a short pause from the normal pace. Yet even in that stillness, I found peace in being cared for, and in witnessing my family step up in quiet, reassuring ways. Their presence reminded me that love isn’t always loud—it’s often found in the way routines continue without complaint, meals are quietly prepared, and space is made for rest.
Mother’s Day this year was a blend of tenderness and laughter. I didn’t need a grand gesture or a wrapped-up gift. The real celebration was in the daily acts of appreciation—the sms sent to me, the hugs just when I needed them, the silence when I couldn’t find words. It was a moment of gratitude not only for the mother I am, but for all the mothers who’ve shaped me, especially my own.
Despite our differences, misunderstandings, and the occasional sharp word that time has not fully softened, I see her now with deeper eyes. Without her strength—the sacrifices she made in silence, the way she anchored our family in times of chaos—we wouldn’t be this solid. Her resilience became my blueprint, whether I admitted it or not.
At school, the end-of-year current began to build. I signed my new contract—committing to yet another chapter of service and growth. It felt like a quiet vow to keep showing up.
Our home continued in harmony. The kids took on their responsibilities with more maturity. My husband juggled studies and routines with grace, same as myself. Though there were really days and nights we both felt the weight on our shoulders. We kept our kitchen alive with hearty meals, and our weekends purposeful with small projects and hopeful ideas. And yes—Sunday badminton stayed sacred, even when the heat nudged us toward stillness.
June: Milestones and Letting Go
June arrived like the exhale we’d been waiting for. My husband turned 45 this month, and while our celebration was intimate, it was rooted in love, gratitude, and reflection. We also honored Father’s Day—low-key but full of appreciation for the quiet strength he brings into our home daily.
School wrapped up with recognition ceremonies for Franco and Theonee, both of whom finished the year strong. Seeing them leaving the house for their last days of school was a memory engraved in my core. It was a sight that reminded me that success isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s the quiet consistency—the kept routines, the emotional check-ins, the unwavering encouragement—that pushes our kids to shine.
This month was also filled with personal academic milestones. My love officially completed his PGCE—a journey marked by so much grit, passion, and late-night reflection. And I completed my Education degree modules, bringing a chapter of determined learning to a satisfying pause. We both crossed finish lines that were hard-earned and deeply meaningful.
Children’s Day also happened in June, but as our kids have grown into teens, we all silently agreed that celebration wasn’t necessary. Instead, we marked the month by renewing our family blog, Journey4Us, and taking pride in a platform that reflects our lived experiences and shared lessons. We also have started creating the fifth year anniversary segments which right now are still being polished.
We did, however, make space to celebrate another kind of achievement—the end of the school year. Each of us had our moment: Franco and I celebrated with an energizing splash at the water park, Theonee enjoyed a whimsical day at MooMoo Farm, and my love had a well-deserved dinner at his favorite Indian restaurant. These moments felt earned, joyful, and full of light.
Summer break brought space not only to recharge, but to reconnect. I had the chance to catch up with a few good friends and found unexpected connections with some coworkers—new friendships gently formed in the ease of slower days.
Financially, June tested us again. Health hiccups, seasonal expenses, and end-of-year fees added pressure to already tight margins. But, just like every month before, we made it through. Bills were paid on time. Insurance premiums settled. Investments reviewed. It took sacrifice and teamwork, but we did it.
From Milestones to Mindsets: The Legacy of 2024–2025
As the academic year 2024–2025 draws to a close, what remains is not just a collection of milestones or memories, but a quiet, resilient testament to growth. It was a year of deepened purpose—for our family, for our classrooms, and for ourselves. We juggled the pressures of deadlines, health challenges, financial strain, and shifting roles, yet through it all, we showed up—with resolve, with care, and often with laughter in tow. Our journey wasn’t perfect, but it was powerful. We celebrated achievements that lived beyond grades and certificates—like courage in vulnerability, strength in transition, and joy in daily routines.
We evolved through every late-night revision, every emotional check-in, every small moment of clarity that sparked something new in us.
This year reminded us that education isn’t just about what we learn, but who we become in the process. It’s about choosing growth even when the path isn’t clear, and daring to keep showing up for ourselves and others. So, to every parent, teacher, learner, and dreamer reading this: you did more than survive this year—you stretched, you soared, and you carried the light forward. May the lessons of 2024–2025 continue to root you in purpose and lift you toward everything you’ve yet to become.
And as we close this chapter, we invite you to open your heart—what were the moments that moved you this year? What lessons, big or small, reshaped your rhythm or renewed your fire? We’d love to hear your story.
Drop us a message, a memory, or a reflection here on Journey4Us—because your voice, like every story, has a place in this tapestry of becoming.
Yours truly,
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