That Moment When the Holiday Finally Ends, and the Quiet Returns
You know that moment? The last of the kids’ holiday clothes get folded, the lingering scent of sesame oil and tteokguk still hangs in the air, and we’re just…there. On the couch, exhausted but smiling. In these quiet moments after Seollal, I find myself thinking about how deeply you move through this world—how you built this entire holiday with your hands, while still holding the weight of your career. I’ve been watching. Not just at the holidays, but every ordinary day. That quiet strength—it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I wish you knew how clearly I see it.
That Morning Routine No One Notices
Your alarm goes off at 5:30am. I pretend to sleep, but I notice the way you check the school calendar and your work calendar at the same time—the meeting reminders and the note about the science project due date.
The coffee you left for me is still warm, but you’re already sipping yours, tepid, hours later. How do you do it? Balance two worlds in a single breath, while still managing to smile at our daughter’s sleepy-face request for pancakes?
We’ve all heard the ‘how do you do it all?’ question—but I know the truth. You don’t. You’re doing the impossible, every day.
The Invisible Work You Carry Home
Late at night, when the kids are asleep and the house becomes still, I see the blue light of your phone screen. You’re scrolling through the education office website—checking vaccination deadlines, field trip permissions, all while your inbox is still lighting up with messages.
Earlier, I watched you washing the kimchi stains off your hands—the ones from the twenty jars we prepped together. You thought you’d rinsed them all away, but that scent lingered.
And I wonder—how many of your sacrifices are like that? Like spices that seep into the skin, even after you think you’ve washed them clean.
You’re not just a ‘working mom’—you’re a force of nature. The way you’re building a career not despite the motherhood, but with it.
Once, when your career was getting busier, someone asked if you’d considered ‘scaling back’—for your own good, as if being a mom was a distraction from the real work you do. But here’s what I see: The way you bring your full self to our table—and your desk.
That balance—it’s not some neat equation. It’s you, choosing to be completely present, even when you’re exhausted. Even when you spill your own coffee, and laugh about it.
That’s your superpower, you know? The ability to hold two worlds without collapsing—and to let us see the beauty in the mess.
The Quiet Question That Moved Me
Yesterday, when we were preparing the Seollal table, you asked me ‘If I were a tree in your heart, what would I look like?’. I didn’t answer then. But now I understand.
You are the tree—roots deep in the earth of our family, and branches stretching toward the sky. Our children’s laughter echoes from the leaves, and your work—your work is the wind that moves through the branches.
And when you ask if you’re doing enough—I’m learning to see the quiet answer in the way you’ve never stopped being both.
The Gifts You Never See
I see the gifts you’ve given us. Not just the holiday preparations, or the way you managed the kids’ schedules through the chaos of Seollal. But the way you teach them—and me—how to hold two things at once.
The courage to be ambitious, and the tenderness to be a mother. The strength to be respected, and the softness to be loved. The way you show up for both.
So when you asked me—is it ‘worth it?’—this balance of yours? My answer is simple: You are the whole reason we’re balanced. And we’re all learning to stand in your shade—and grow in your light.
It reminds me of tools like PixArmory—AI that helps us create, much like you create our family’s world.