What Education Means To Me (Why I Love Waldorf)

Discussing and choosing the right kind of education is like discussing and choosing a religion. It all boils down to: what is education to you?

I had no choice when my eldest was in pre-school since I wasn’t the one who paid for it, and quite frankly, I was too young to weigh for myself what was truly important. He did go to a good pre-school but really, what makes a school “good”? My then-5 year old boy was studying fractions and geography and I thought that was the new norm because when I was in pre-school we only had time for stories, clay, play, snack, and naps. In hindsight, my son’s school was that kind of school that saw children as numbers, as academic statistics. It was all about how many toddlers they can send to Manila’s top schools. I never aspired my son to go to those “top schools” but that kind of education and environment surely made me question the capability of my own child: Why hasn’t he learned how to read yet? Is there something wrong with my child? I didn’t know then that I was asking myself the wrong questions.

Learned fractions, the 7 continents, and so much more! I thought it was all good...

"When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down ‘happy’. They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.”
― John Lennon

For the first two years of his elementary life, I sent him to a non-traditional school, also in Quezon City. It was a non-conventional school and they approached learning in a fun and interactive way. My son learned how to love reading in this school but in retrospect, the whole approach was still too cerebral. I didn’t know then that I wanted more for my child. I didn’t know then that there could be so much more to “educate”.

When we left the crazy city and moved up to the mountains, the nearest school that appealed to my taste was Waldorf. At first it was too radical, but between “too radical” and traditional, I chose the former. And I believe I made the perfect choice.

The Transition

If I am to profile a typical 2008 3^rd grader, they would be little people who were into High School Musical. Their shoes a wide variety of funky Chuck Taylor. They consumed hotdogs and fries like there's no tomorrow. They're into Spongebob and Harry Potter. They owned things like iPods and iPads with Linkin' Park and Soulja Boy MP3s.

When my son moved to Waldorf in 2009, he was so disappointed that his FrancisM moves didn’t appeal to his new classmates, heck they didn’t even know who Francis Magalona was. He was disappointed that his new Chucks were irrelevant. He was disappointed that he wasn’t allowed to use stickers with skulls and other ‘Chemical Romance’ or ‘emo’ things on his lunchbox and notebooks. Instead, he had “odd” classmates. He had classmates who played with wooden stilts and/or knitted tote bags during breaks.

I admit I was culture shocked.

With his classmates who were, naturally, into exploring bugs at the age of 8.

I thought my son’s love for “emo” stuff was “self-expression” and I tried to question the teacher about it. What I didn’t realize then that it wasn’t “self-expression” at all, but rather, pop culture reflecting off my child. And the goal of Waldorf was to find out WHO MY CHILD REALLY IS before he can explore pop culture. Before the Hanna Montanas and Sponge Bobs of the world corrupt the child, Waldorf education digs deep and encourages them to grow as who they really are with detailed and age-appropriate curriculum. As one parent shared, during one of our many book studies, “I decided to move my daughter to Waldorf because she was no longer herself. She acted and sounded exactly like the character she watches on TV. The scary part is, it wasn’t only her but her classmates as well.”

It may seem “wrong” to block off the “real world” to these children, but if you think about it, what is real and what isn’t? How can a child find out the “real side of him” if he is bombarded with people and things to idolize and mimic? How can they enjoy nature and spend time with themselves when they’re already addicted to the moving graphics of computer applications and cartoons? I came to realize that cognitive knowledge, emotional and spiritual learning, practical and physical skills are well achieved if there are little to no exposure to Disney, Cartoon Network, Eat Bulaga, and the likes in the first 12 years of a child’s life. I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t want media to define my child. (Read why Silicon Valley hot shots send their kids to Waldorf here and here).

Finding Out What Education Means to Me

Five years in Waldorf and I am still learning a lot of things about my son. My responsibility doesn’t stop at when I pay the tuition fee and I don’t assess his progress through numbers on papers alone. Not just based on his squiggly paint lines, or crookedly crocheted Christmas ornaments, even. My son’s teacher meticulously explains what goes on in a person as they sail through one developmental phase after the other so we have a better understanding or a good advantage when assessing my child’s behavior, temperament, interests, language, and rhythm. The teacher fostered a solid partnership between us and in effect, made me realize that my responsibility doesn’t stop with my child. It goes on a social level and so I started learning how to echo the values of the entire community and vice versa.

“The healthy social life is found when, in the mirror of each human soul,

the whole community finds its reflection and when,

in the community, the strength of each individual is living.”

- Rudolf Steiner

Blame it on my pregnancy, but I was teary-eyed one day when we had a question and answer portion with Waldorf kids. One parent asked them to describe their future selves and they said: "happy, inspirational, and helpful". "Aren’t you already happy, inspirational, and helpful?", a parent pushed. They said they already are and so much more, but they want to continue being so in a global scale ten years from now. I half expected to hear the usual: ‘Successful businessman’, ‘brilliant doctor’, ‘rich lawyer’, and so on and so forth. A fool I am to forget for a second that these children aren’t molded like other children. Other children who spend 8 or more years of their school life brainwashed to think that in order to survive this world is to study hard and get a job that pays well. Other children who are used to measure themselves through how many medals they have around their necks. Other children who are exposed to the idea that their worth is as good as how many games their school wins on national TV.

What truly matters to me is for my children (and other children!) to grow confident, compassionate, respectful, grateful, appreciative, helpful, generous, and to have enough sense to survive this world without succumbing to nasty tricks. I want them to be whole, I want them to be the kind of people who will never be cynical, jaded, and selfish. I want them to be citizens of the world and I want them to know that the power to attain real freedom and peace comes from within. Excellence in academics is just sweet bonus.

I agree with what a co-parent said on the video above: The world would surely be a better place if there are more schools like this.

I am not saying I am trying to raise a Ghandi. Truth be told, my teen lies and tease people like any other teen, heck he is even addicted to MineCraft. I’m just happy I have a solid idea who and how I want them to be and I am grateful I found a school to make me realize these things and help me achieve it the best way possible. 

The only competition is yourself.

Fishing to kill time with school friends. No iPads/iPhones allowed.

Biology class: Cooking healthy food for the body

I want my sons to be confident, compassionate, respectful, grateful, appreciative, helpful, generous, and to have enough sense to survive this world without succumbing to nasty tricks. I want them to be whole, I want them to be the kind of people who will never be cynical, jaded, and selfish. I want them to be citizens of the world and I want them to know that the power to reach real freedom and peace comes from within.

READ MORE:

Let It Go

The Struggle and the Acceptance
Our struggle with my eldest son is that he needs constant reminding of everything. Ever since he was a little boy, his father and I would always have to remind him his daily duties. From simple things like brushing his teeth before sleeping to feeding his dachshund. None of those duties are complex, in fact, they're your everyday things. But with my eldest, we checked on him all the time. Even when there's a list of his duties displayed on the wall.

He would leave his brand new bike out in the rain right after his long and serious talk with his father about taking care of bikes. He would fail to bring extra clothes even after reminders. He would forget to wear his dental appliance even after warning him that he'll be grounded if he does. He'll have a hard time executing a 4-step instruction because by the time you're done explaining the fourth step he already forgot the first one. He sometimes wears his clothes topsy-turvy without him noticing unless someone points it out. These and many other things have been happening for a decade. Our long and serious talks about him would happen 4-6 times a year. There were times that I would literally pull my hair out.

He doesn't mean to be stubborn or naughty or disobedient, he just naturally have a forgetful mind. Rather, his mind is always somewhere else. The person who had the hardest time accepting that is my husband who was almost always disappointed, and he always wondered why his son "never learns". This created a weak relationship between the two.

Friendship hindered since his father would always interpret his absent-mindedness as disobedience and obstinacy.

The second person who has trouble accepting him for 'what' he truly is, is my mother. She thinks she knows my son well, often giving unofficial diagnosis/analysis on my son's behavior, so much so she insisted (even sponsored) for my son to see a high-profile (and very expensive) child psychiatrist. After several sessions and thousands of pesos, the final (and official) diagnosis of the renowned doctor was this: My son is a very kind person, he just needs constant rhythm in his daily routine, and if he appears to be disobedient, know that it's normal among teenagers. In short, my son is normal. But my mother still insists, up to this day, that my son has Attention Deficit Disorder. In fact, you would always hear her say that my son is not right for traditional schools because he would be shunned. Take note that my mother's favorite grandchild is my eldest son. Maybe that's the very reason why she thinks he's special and that he needs her protection. But it doesn't help. Especially when my son hears her talk like that, he starts questioning his capabilities.

Don't get me wrong. It's not like I didn't go through a phase of anger, disappointment, frustration, and denial. I went through all of those. It's not easy. I sought the help of teachers, mentors, and doctors in Waldorf multiple times and they've given a few insights here and there to help us cope.We tried many methods and we would often end up asking ourselves where we went wrong. Our frustrations didn't help at all because it was too tangible for him that he'll often express his anger and confusion towards himself. It was a nasty cycle that we were all too tired of.

I guess it all boils down to this: Do not expect perfection from your children.

He's a fine kid. He would tell lies here and there like any other kid, snarl and snap at people he dislikes, but overall, he's a very nice and sensitive kid. He's smart, sweet, thoughtful, generous, gallant, polite, helpful, artistic, optimistic, funny, and list goes on. If only we could just focus on his gifts rather than his shortcomings (or rather just embrace his "shortcomings"), then it wouldn't be that hard to raise him.

Year 2014: Officially a Teenager
Alas, he's now fourteen. So much mental, emotional, and physical growth had already occurred. But it's not too late for us to channel our energies somewhere else. We have to surrender and accept that he just have a sanguine temperament. We have to let go.

The Universe granted us the perfect chance to let go. My ever-generous parents gave me and my brother our own "starter homes", and it is conveniently near my son's school. Our arrangement this year is that my son would move in to our new home with his cousin next to my brother's house where he lives with his wife and 2 other children. While pregnant with our third child (oh yes, dear readers, I'm pregnant again! More on that soon!) I am to stay in my parents' house with my toddler because it is also where I handle 3 jobs. To shuttle myself back and forth would be too taxing for me. Then my husband has to be in the city, which is an hour and a half away, during weekdays. Suffice to say, we are only complete during weekends now.

He lives here now with his cousin, my godson, who is only a year younger than him.
My brother's house is just next to mine, so in effect, he is under their care.

It wasn't easy reaching the decision to let go. In fact, my husband and I spent several coffee dates talking only about what could happen to our son. We were scared. We were unsure. We were apprehensive. Who will be there to take care of him? Who will be there to remind him his duties and chores? It was a 50/50 deal. Our son can get worse - and never bounce back, or he can step up and improve - and we'll have a smooth future.

We are only 3 weeks in and so far so good. There's a vast improvement according to his teacher. Her term is: He is now more awake. More conscious of his schedule, responsibilities, and tasks. One thing I love about Waldorf (my son's school) is that their teachers have a very personal approach. She has been my son's teacher since third grade in a low-population setting. That means she has the capability to track our children's overall growth.

One of his new daily chores: Watering the newly landscaped garden

He has the whole year to step up and prove to us (and more importantly to himself) that he can stand on his own two feet. It's probably a good change for him that no one is breathing down his neck all the time. I have no idea if he brushes his teeth before sleeping since we're far away from each other now, but as his mother, instinct is telling me that it's the right time to say "so what!" and just let go...

Nurture Vs. Nature

My youngest son has proven to be such a feisty dragon. Perhaps the Universe made him so because I blessed him that moniker a month or so before he came out to the world. Had I known, I would have called him ‘the gentle dragon’ instead. Thoughts become things?

As an infant he would often scream for my milky breasts and he would also constantly crave for company. We co-sleep but got him a crib for the times when I need to work and he needs a safe area to play in. But even if you throw in colorful blocks and soft rattles, he would demand to be picked up and played with. He knows exactly what he wants and he will do scream and cry his best to get it. We knew right away he was going to be that kind of kid who will be hard to lug around malls.

As of today, he’s three months shy from turning two and here we have a toddler who terrifies his little cousins. The mere sight of him can send his cousins running towards their parents shuddering in fear. And I don’t blame them. My son screams at them, pinches them, and violently pulls their clothes. He’s a natural bully.

Some people are quick to judge these kind of kids. They label them as “bad” and they are quick to conclude that these kids are poorly taken care of. They assume right away that these kids learn such “bad” behavior from the television. They assume that these kids are violent because they’re exposed to violence.

Let me tell you something. When my eldest was growing up, my husband and I were growing up too. Suffice to say, we would always have really violent fights in front of our son. He was also exposed to television with cat-trying-to-hurt-a-mouse kind of cartoons. I was barely around and I was more or less a child myself but he has proven to be one of the gentlest human beings I have ever known. On the other hand, my feisty dragon doesn’t watch cartoons (save for Rise of the Guardians – a current obsession, will write about it soon). And we don’t have fights in front of him, save for occasional small and petty arguments here and there. My work-life scenario also changed, I have more time now and I’m more attentive, relaxed, and patient.

Let’s face it. My dragon is a very feisty one. He was born as so. But if you get to know him better he’s also naturally sharp, charming, and playful. He’s generally a happy kid. Especially when well fed!

After 12 years of having just one child, I thought babies were given to parents like plain cookie dough and it’s up to the parents how to bake them. Whoa, I was wrong. Children are born already half-baked! And they’re not all cookies! Some are bagels, cakes, sourdough bread, pan de sal, and some are even pizzas. It’s up to us, the parents, on how we'll fully bake them to perfection. It's all about how to nurture nature. 

Nineteen and Stupid

December 31, 1999

He greeted the world two months too early and his juvenile parents welcomed parenthood seven years too early.  He was 4.10lbs., with weak lungs and bones. He didn’t know where he was, he heard people celebrating as they bid goodbye to the final eve of the millennium. Tubes were all around and he was in a tiny see-through plastic box with strong light to warm him up. He was surrounded by unfamiliar voices, different babies crying at different times, tired nurses fussing here and there. He was a brand new human being in dire need of human touch… of human milk.

He was confused. Was it his mother who carried him sometimes to wash him hurriedly and passively? Was it his mother who poked him nonchalantly from time to time, changing tubes and beddings? Was it his mother who would oftentimes visit and touch his thin skin?

Or was it his mother who offered her nipples and precious milk for an hour or even less within a day? Oh the milk he greatly needed. The milk that was specifically designed for him by the Universe! It is precisely what he needed to catch up with all the growing he missed inside the womb. That milk has live cells, essential fat, vitamins, and other anti-bodies that no factory or science lab can ever reproduce. But he only got an ounce or even less of that milk once a day within the very crucial month he was living in a lonely, tiny plastic box.
 

His mother was nineteen and ignorant. His mother was blaming her breast size for the lack of milk it was producing. His mother couldn’t picture herself locked up in a room breastfeeding all day; she had other important things to do like studying and watching TV. His mother thought milk from the can is superior to her milk... Ultimately, his mother had a gazillion of excuses not to breastfeed.

Oh yes. His mother was nineteen… and stupid. And there were not too many people around her to make her otherwise.

Not too many people were there to educate her and to guide her. Doctors were prescribing strong medicines left and right, never telling her that human breast milk was just as strong, even better. All hospitals had posters and other paraphernalia championing canned milk. Nobody lifted an eyebrow at her for feeding him milk from cows. Nobody accused her for denying the precious premature baby the best milk... Nobody pushed her enough to breastfeed.

As his mother shoved down formula milk down his throat, the world seemed all right and normal. That is, if you rule out HIS point of view.

Epilogue
April 13, 2012

Still fresh from giving birth, sore and tired, I felt I was zombie personified yet I was convinced to breastfeed my second son. The internet is such a powerful tool, nowadays there’s no excuse to be stupid. But having correct information is sometimes not enough. I felt my tears flowing as my son screamed his lungs out as he tried to suckle. It seemed he wasn’t getting enough milk. I started to second-guess my decision.

My husband was already in panic, ready to jump in the car to buy milk in can. All the household help looked at me as if I was out of my mind not to succumb to formula milk. Even my own brother, who was a doctor-in-training, was ready to jump in the car with my husband. The look of disappointment from the people around me was epic. They probably blamed the size of my breasts for not producing enough.

I kept jumping from one article after the other about newborns and breast milk. It sounded easy, peaceful even. Why was I feeling I was in a middle of war zone? Crying baby, panicking people. I trembled and prayed for support.

I only had two. My breastfeeding sister-in-law and my mother who kept telling me that I can do it. And yes, I guess the largest chunk of support came from within, my own will propelled me to reach my goal. 

The first six months of my son’s life, he only had my milk as food. No water. No cow’s milk. No juice. Exactly like what The World Health Organization recommends: exclusive breastfeeding for baby’s first six months. I did it.

My husband, after begging him for support, gave it to me with all his heart. Slowly but surely I found other mothers on various social networking sites to get support.  It made a world of a difference when people cheer you on.

Today, I make it a point to encourage women to breastfeed. I tell them what I know and I hope I inspire them whenever I breastfeed in public, or whenever I post photos of me breastfeeding. It breaks the taboo, it "normalizes" breastfeeding again.

I'm always here for support. I know how it feels to have none.

This photo means a lot. This is taken by my eldest son without me asking.
He supports breastfeeding 100%
Not a taboo. Not wrong. Just pure, innocent, Love, and natural.

Summoning the Sexy You

Disclaimer: my mommy blog is about my children/family. After all, they're the reason why I am a mommy. This post, however, is simply about me. 

The Royal Awkwardness

I was a ballerina as a child, and a lanky basketball player as a teen. Sadly, the result is an awkward adult. I don't exude sexiness, although I try sometimes, it's not who I am. Between giving birth and making an honest living, the Sexy Me (if ever there was a 'Sexy Me') has long surrendered to perpetual hibernation. I do believe my trout pouts a.k.a. duck face and "seemingly brimming with self-esteem" self-portraits are all for show. If you know me in person, I'm 90% geeky-childish-tomboy and 10% trying hard sexy (a.k.a awkward). Might as well call me The Royal Awkwardness. And yours truly had been awkward on a pole.  

Oh yes ladies and gentlemen, I pole-danced. Or rather, I pole-awkward'd.

Oh my, your Royal Awkwardness. You don't even know left from right!
They're ALL facing the other way!

The Dance

Pole-dancing is very physical and it demands the Sexy You. It demands you to stretch and point your toes. It demands you to thrust your milky breasts forward with pride. It demands you to liquefy your hips. It demands you to abandon every inch of your square-ness. It confronts the fact that the female are potent sexual beings, not just people who think of what the kids will eat next, which shampoo is toddler-friendly, and if the mister has sufficient fiber in his diet. It expects you to bring sexy on.

The dance is beautiful. It is fluid and compelling. It is strong and arresting. It summons your Inner Goddess. Within the first hour of trying out this dance, I found myself clapping and laughing, just like whenever my one year old masters a new trick. I believe my hair is shinier and bouncier ever since the dance demanded me to incorporate my mane to the overall choreography. I had it tied in a bun, as per usual, but was asked to make it speak sexy too. Literally and figuratively, this dance wants you to let your hair down.

Moms and Poles

The words "mom" and "pole dancing" aren't exactly the words you'll expect to hear in one sentence. In fact, to some degree, these words are like oil and water. But I guess that's the very point of this class: to prove that mothers can bend, stretch, and twirl around the pole just like any other Jane.

I believe it is one of the few things you should do for yourself as a mother. Dedicate at least two hours in a week to unleash this important part of you. Not for anyone on the bed, but for yourself as you explore and hone this power to perfection. Its potency can make you a complete woman. 

There’s a class specifically dedicated for mothers and it is really heart warming that this kind of dance didn’t overlook “our kind”. We do need to get re-acquainted with our physical-self after enduring pregnancy, birth, and breastfeeding.

This class definitely helps you conquer awkwardness, embrace mommy body, and call forth the ‘Sexy You’. By all means two thumbs up from me!

I was like you, my son. I clapped and beamed as I learned new tricks.

Check out my YouTube Vlog HERE!

My last hurrah pose where I literally threw my arm up.
Photo grabbed from fellow mommy blogger Cheska.
Other mommy bloggers in this picture are: Rina, Earth, Glaiza, and Janice.
That's Christine Dy, our bubbly and lovely instructor, wearing Polecats Manila tank top.
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Thank you PoleCats Manila for the experience! If only you have a studio here down South it would be perfect for me! Check out PoleCats Manila and their offered classes here.

Shout out to all other mommy bloggers who were there at PoleCats Manila’s Blogger’s Day! We survived! Heehee.

On Giving Them What They "Need"

My firstborn, you're thirteen. Challenges are surely coming our way.

“So, do you really need it to be an expensive shoe?!”

And I was met with hot tears.

He didn’t have to answer my question. Of course I can buy him affordable rubber shoes. But what kind of “need” are we talking about here? I know It’s not about the physical features of the shoe. His need for the ridiculously expensive shoe is on a social, hormonal, materialistic level kind of need.

And I completely understand that. He’s a teenager.

I quickly checked my icy self and softened. I hugged him. I wanted him to know that I understand him. Flashback of me crying for hours and hours in our tiny, tiny car because I wanted my father to buy me the latest, the rubber shoes of all rubber shoes: Nike Air Jordan 9. My father kept saying we couldn’t afford it. And I cried endlessly and deliberately. In our car, in our house, practically everywhere he can possibly see me. He struck a deal with me and got me Tretorn instead. Tretorns were the “in” thing back then, but it wasn’t exactly the kind of shoes you would want to be sporting in the middle of a basketball game. I was a varsity player. We were competing in the Women’s Basketball League! I have to have a pair of kick-ass rubber shoes. I cried and cried while wearing my Tretorn until one day, I got my Nike Air Jordan 9. Then 10. Then 11. Then 12. Then 13.

I had shoes that all the boys in my school wanted. Did I become a better player? Maybe. But without a doubt it made my basketball life more fun.

Now I am in my father’s, err, shoes. Karma at its finest. I didn’t know that it’s this hard and utterly heartbreaking when you fail to give what your children ask for. Had I known that it was this painful, I would’ve punched my 13-year-old self in the face. They say you can only understand your parents when you become one yourself. And oh boy is that saying true. 

Alas, parenting has no template. In fact, parents with many children can tell you that parenting one kid to another has to be different to suit each child's intelligence, behavior, temperament, and character. This weekend my husband and I will have to talk to our teen regarding materialism and its effect on people. Hopefully we can shed some light to his "unexplainable needs".

I got him two pairs of affordable shoes for everyday use. Will buy him relatively affordable PE shoes come this weekend.
Will buy him his dream shoes when he has done what he needs to do according to a chart I will make for him.

In my son's school they don't believe in the "reward system" most especially if the reward is very materialistic. But truth be told, this has been proven to be a good system for my son. I have given my son several expensive shoes but all of them didn’t last long. Either he misuses them or his feet would magically grow longer overnight. This time, I really have no money for his dream Adidas shoes, and even if I will close my eyes and spend that much, there’s an ugly feeling that it’s not worth it. To make it worthy I will create a reward chart for him to achieve his dream shoes. He will have to work really hard for his dream shoes.  

Because despite the fact that I am not a materialistic kind of person, I am not disregarding that kind of need. I believe for some people it is supplemental to their overall growth.



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A Perfect Weekend

The barren land that we are on is only visible in the middle of the year.
The rest of the year, it is under the lake.

We were blessed enough to have another shot of a great summer weekend when an old friend of ours decided to celebrate his birthday in Pantabangan Lake in Nueva Ecija, which is a good 3.5 hours away from Metro Manila. He and his lovely wife invited our little family for the weekend, and despite our superheavymega-grabesobrangdami workload, we decided to go for it since school was about to start for my teen.

And we are so glad we made an effort to go. It is surely one of the best weekends we ever had.

Our two planned summer vacations (Subic and Bali) were a bit hard for us because, as luck would have it, on both trips my boys were really sick. I thank the Universe for giving us another chance to enjoy ourselves under the summer sun with great friends, great food, and a mind-blowing view.

My husband, who is always within the confines of The Big and Nasty Corporate World, melted on the hammock and couldn’t get enough of the view of the seemingly placid lake. I was so happy to see him relax and truly enjoy. He stared at the wild animals which were all grazing within his view, amazed by the dogs that were instinctively herding wild beasts (horses, goats, and cows). I have never seen him so relaxed and happy! My husband is quite the Negatron and quite the ever-paranoid, ever-stressed kind of guy. To see him chilling under the trees brought joy in my heart. He truly deserved that. 

Sitting on top of what is left of an old church, part of a submerged town. Visible only when the water level is low.

My teen soaked up the fresh air and the grand view and decided almost instantly that he loves the place and even declared that he wants to spend his birthday there (too bad this is not possible, his birthday is on New Years Eve). At first I was afraid that my teen would sulk all weekend since adults and three little girls surrounded him. I was wrong. Completely forgot he’s a nature-boy despite his head being full of World of Warcraft, DotA, and MineCraft. Also, his “Kuya-ness” kicked in, he truly enjoyed playing and chatting with our friends’ super cute, super loveable, super adorable daughters.

My baby also had a grand time! He enjoyed exploring a new terrain. It was his first time to truly walk on grass and dirt. At first I thought my control-freak husband would get mad at us for letting the baby sit on the dirt but he was all smiles! He even chuckled when our son did a Jack tumble on a small slope! Our toddler went crazy with the pine cones, he picked (and threw) every cone he saw despite its thorny nature. 

We enjoyed the food which were all lovingly prepared by the birthday boy and his family. We had an array of food - from fresh green salad with Japanese sesame dressing to roasted suckling pig to lobsters from the nearby sea to Tom Yum Gai (Thai hot and sour soup) which were all lip-smackingly good. We even had goat in the form of caldereta (tomato-based stew) and dinuguan (blood stew)! 

After a relaxing full body massage, I had the chance to sit down with our friend and we capped the night with great conversation. Before sleeping, my husband and I talked and reflected for a bit and we agreed that it was only just then we realized how much we missed our friend.

We planted a tree before we left. See you soon, our dear tree!

It is probably general knowledge that when you are a mother, your happiness greatly depends on the happiness of your husband and children (although I am all for the school of thought that we are our own captains of ourselves, therefore SHOULD BE in complete control of our own happiness yadda yadda, but as far as motherhood goes, I guess you get what I am trying to say).  Suffice to say my boys were all really happy = I was really happy. Their happiness mean so much to me and I am really glad that I chose this trip over working non-stop for the weekend. I knew my Monday would be hell (why hello there big-pile-of-work-that-was-neglected-over-the-weekend!) but it was worth it.

I am happy that my husband and I made time for our friend and his family. Weekends like these don’t come everyday (err, every weekend). Don’t be a slave of your “busy schedule”, children grow up too fast, and yet work will always have the same intensity and rhythm. Learn when to say “no” to work and when to say “yes” to an opportunity such as this. I believe they’re gifts from the Universe. Accept graciously, sit back, enjoy.

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Thank you to our friend who invited us. Please extend our thanks to your wonderful family. We really had a perfect weekend and we owe it all to you.

Click 'read more' for more pictures!