A Late Christmas Party and a Full Heart

At last, Koro Seraphim’s Christmas Party happened today. Koro Seraphim is our choir family—singers bonded by shared rehearsals, sacred music, service, and a lot of laughter in between. It may be late by calendar standards, but it still felt right. After all, Christmas doesn’t really end on December 25. In the Church, the season continues until the Sunday of the Feast of the Baptism of Jesus—a rhythm that gently reminds us that celebration is meant to linger.

Aia was especially excited. Since January 1, she had been counting the days, never missing a morning without asking how many sleeps were left. A swimming pool and a party—her two favorite things at six years old. Preparing for an event with children, though, is never just excitement. It’s planning, packing, and a long mental checklist. If you’re a parent, you already know.

Still No Water

After breakfast, we went home to check if the water had returned. What sounded simple turned into logistics—packing bags, separating clean and used baby bottles, making sure everyone had bathed. Morning slipped away quietly as these small tasks piled up.

Our plan depended entirely on water. If it had come back, we’d prepare at home and leave later. If not, we’d pack for the next day and move operations to my parents’ house. When we arrived, the faucets were still dry. So we packed clothes, essentials, and whatever we’d need to get through. We don’t know how long this interruption will last, but we keep hoping it ends soon.

Water and Gratitude

At home, we often say, “Mas okay pang walang kuryente kaysa walang tubig.” Electricity can wait. Water can’t. Without it, we can’t wash dishes, flush toilets, or even brush our teeth—no matter how fast the WiFi is or how cold the air-conditioning feels.

Days like this make me realize how easily we take water for granted, even though it has slowly become recognized as a basic human right. It’s humbling to remember how different life once was, when water meant wells, springs, and long walks. Moments like these quietly reframe gratitude, much like reflections on simple living as a family often do.

Poolside Joy

We arrived at the venue around 3 PM. Almost immediately, Aia and Nina were in the pool, laughter echoing louder than any music. Time moved differently there—slow, light, carefree.

After more than two hours of swimming, towels came out and pajamas went on. The slumber party had officially begun. Dinner followed, and it was unmistakably Filipino—Chicken Pops, lumpia, pancit, lechon belly, chopseuy, beef steak, and desserts that felt like a celebration on their own: chocolate éclair, chocolate mousse cake, carrot cake, and mango float. We ate well, gratefully.

Some choir members paired their meals with San Miguel Beer, Smirnoff, and even Fundador—something I later realized was strategic preparation.

Slumber Party Queen

The Miss Gay Competition followed, with four brave representatives fully supported by their groups. Each candidate was cared for—from slumber party attire to talent portions and playful Q&A. None of them were actually gay; they were simply pretending to be drags, which somehow made everything even funnier.

I welcomed them and jokingly reminded them that after this evening, they shouldn’t consider crossing to the other side. As one of the judges, I tried to look past the cringe and focus—though that was easier said than done. After hilarious performances and equally silly answers, a winner was crowned: Slumber Party Queen 2026. The whole room erupted in celebration, a reminder of how joy grows when shared in community, much like in choir life and shared traditions.

Gifts and Quiet Wins

We exchanged gifts soon after. That’s when I realized I hadn’t wrapped mine yet. In a small panic, I wrapped my manito gift quickly—thankfully armed with techniques from a YouTube tutorial on wrapping odd-shaped items. I found myself fascinated by the Japanese method of wrapping boxes with just one sheet of paper and minimal tape. That’s next on my learning list.

My gift was a long-sleeved Sunday dress, paired with eyebrow liner and blush. I didn’t ask for them, but Marco clearly knew me well. There’s no such thing as too much blush.

By the end of the night, I focused on the kids—prepping them for sleep while the others continued celebrating. Aia slipped out occasionally, enjoying the poolside energy even without swimming. Jesz arrived later from Mabini, and finally, I had help. I was exhausted, but calm. Managing children is never a one-person job, and I couldn’t have done this—pregnancies, chaos, and all—without him. Moments like these echo what I’ve written before about marriage as shared strength and parenting through teamwork.

A Gentle Thanksgiving

I am glad that in the chaos, we got through. The children slept satisfied. They were cough-free. And the day—ordinary and messy—ended well.

Thank you, Lord. May every action today, even the simplest ones, give glory to You.