By Melinda Castillo

There’s a kind of magic in the mundane if you slow down enough to notice it. My life as a mom at present looks very different than it did a decade ago. I have two adults who’s both in college, one unique teenager soul on the autism spectrum, and my youngest, 9, who, for me, is still my baby. Life is loud, layered, and often messy. But if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s this: the small wins are what keep me going.

So here’s a peek into the little joys I’ve learned to celebrate. The kind of moments that may go unnoticed, but sparks joy to me.

It sounds so simple, doesn’t it? But when my college kids send me a quick message, even if it’s just to ask for allowance or a step by step recipe of their favorite home meal, it’s a reminder that I’m still part of their orbit. I’ve learned not to take those pings for granted. They’re little digital love notes in disguise.

My boy with ASD, diagnosed as mild by the way, sees and experiences the world in such a unique way. Some days are stormy, and others are calm. On days when we avoid sensory overload, anger- management issues, when routines go smoothly, or when I see him trying something new without resistance, I hold those wins close to my heart. They are quiet, hard-earned victories.

With my youngest, it’s the after-school grind. There are days when we wrestle through math problems or spelling lists, but then some days it just flows. He’s focused, I’m patient, and we both survive without raising our voices. That’s a mom medal moment right there.

It’s rare these days that we’re all at the table at the same time. This is because my college ones only get to go home seldom. Only during holidays or when there’s a special O. But when it happens, and when there’s laughter, teasing, or even just a shared moment over “Sinigang” or fried chicken, I silently thank the God. It means we’re still tethered to one another, even as everyone is growing into their own worlds.

Sometimes the biggest win of my day is having coffee while it’s still hot. Or being able to sit down for a few minutes without someone calling for me. I’m learning that I don’t have to earn rest. I’m allowed to just be.

It’s not always verbal. Sometimes it’s a smile, a hug, or a message left unsaid but deeply felt. Those moments remind me that what I do matters. Even if they don’t always show it, they know I’m here and I always will be.

After menopause, my emotional ladder went up so high that thank you’s are so much appreciated. I feel loved and that I matter.

Motherhood in midlife feels like holding the past, present, and future all at once. It’s balancing independence with presence, structure with softness, patience with exhaustion. But through it all, there’s beauty, raw, imperfect, and sacred.

To every mother reading this: celebrate your small wins. They’re not small at all.

Let’s Connect

What are the quiet victories in your own motherhood journey? I’d love to hear your stories. Leave a comment or message me, let’s remind each other that we’re not alone in celebrating these simple joys.