It's not about the Money, Money, Money

Yeah. 


It's not the case of the cha-ching, cha-ching and the ba-bling, ba-bling. 
Neither the case of how many times we go out on a date, watch a movie or have dinner with friends. 
Not even about the boredom of staying at home for the rest of the week. 


It's about how, one day, you're too sweet and the next morning, you won't even mention a word.
It's about you being so makulit, and the next day, too quiet. 
It's about consistency. 


For someone who's infused with extra hormones of estrogen, I don't want money, out-of-town trips or a shopping spree. I just want to feel happy and cared for every step of the way, in every chance possible, in any simple way. 


Carrying a bun of joy for nine long months is hard enough. The journey is filled with sleepless nights, backaches, pains here and there. And the only thing I could ask for is a little act of sweetness each day.