Things I Have Accidentally Learned From Living With My Family

I never officially enrolled in Family University.

There was no application form.

No entrance exam.

No tuition fee.

And definitely no orientation seminar.

Yet somehow, after years of living with my family, I appear to have earned several unofficial degrees.

Bachelor of Patience.

Master of Selective Hearing.

Doctorate in Knowing When Mom Is About to Say Something.

And possibly a PhD in “Where Did You Put That?”

The funny thing is, I didn’t realize I was learning any of this.

I was just living.

Raising my daughters.

Living with my mom.

Cooking.

Working.

Breaking drinking glasses.

Getting startled by a mother who apparently moves around the house with the stealth capabilities of a professional spy.

And somewhere in between all of that, I accidentally learned a few things.

Lesson #1: Never underestimate a quiet mother

My mom has perfected the art of moving silently.

I don’t know how she does it.

One minute I’m in the kitchen.

The next minute I walk out.

And suddenly…

She’s there.

Right in front of me.

I jump.

She laughs.

Then she sometimes gives me a little playful hit because apparently startling me is now part of her entertainment program.

Then we both laugh.

This happens often enough that you’d think I would learn.

I haven’t.

I still get startled.

Apparently my survival instincts have chosen not to develop in this particular area.

But I’ve learned something else from it.

There are people who know exactly how to make you laugh without saying anything profound.

Sometimes they simply stand there.

Quietly.

Waiting for you to scream.

Thanks, Mom.

Very therapeutic.

Lesson #2: Kids don’t need a perfect mom

My daughters have taught me this without ever sitting me down for a serious conversation about it.

I’m busy.

I work.

I cook.

I write.

I forget things.

I make mistakes.

Sometimes dinner turns out better than expected.

Sometimes it tastes suspiciously like I accidentally poured the entire salt shaker into it.

And yet, my girls still eat it.

They appreciate the effort.

They don’t need me to produce restaurant-quality meals every night.

They just need to know that Mom tried.

I’ve also learned that children don’t necessarily need grand gestures.

Sometimes they just want a hug.

Even when they’re growing up.

Even when they are becoming more independent.

Even when they are perfectly capable of rolling their eyes at you.

A hug still says:

“I love you.”

“You’re safe here.”

“You’re important to me.”

And apparently, you never really outgrow that.

I hope they don’t.

Lesson #3: “Mum, can we buy this?” is not always followed by “please”

Now, before anyone gets the wrong impression about my children, let me clarify something.

My daughters are actually not very demanding.

When they ask me to buy something, there is often a very responsible little disclaimer attached:

“But only if we can afford it, Mum.”

Which, honestly, makes me proud.

Because I can hear the difference between:

“Mum, I NEED this!”

and

“Mum, I would really like this, but I understand if it’s not in the budget.”

The second one is much easier on a mother’s wallet.

And blood pressure.

Still, children have an incredible ability to find things they suddenly “need.”

Something cute.

Something interesting.

Something they saw five minutes ago.

Something that apparently has the power to transform their entire existence.

“Mum, this is so cute…”

I know where this conversation is going.

😂

Lesson #4: Things break. Sometimes because of me.

This is probably one of my family’s longest-running lessons.

I am clumsy.

There.

I’ve said it.

I bump into furniture.

Chairs mysteriously move into my walking path.

The sofa occasionally launches itself into my knees.

The dinner table has apparently declared war on my shins.

And drinking glasses?

Let’s just say we keep extras.

Lots of extras.

Because in our household, drinking glasses are basically consumables.

Sometimes I’m simply walking around and somehow a dustpan ends up attached to my hand, topples over, and creates a completely unnecessary household event.

Sometimes I’m animatedly telling a story at the dinner table and my hand suddenly makes contact with a glass.

The glass loses.

Everybody knows.

When something breaks, nobody panics anymore.

Someone just looks at me and says:

“Ayan na naman siya.”

Then:

“So ano naman ang nabasag mo this time?”

And we laugh.

I’ve learned that life becomes considerably easier when your family knows your quirks and doesn’t make you feel like you have to be embarrassed about them.

Sometimes you’re just clumsy.

Sometimes the glass was simply in the wrong place.

And sometimes…

It’s probably you.

😂

Lesson #5: You can laugh at yourself without making yourself small

This might be one of my favorite things I’ve learned.

I laugh at myself a lot.

Not because I think I’m ridiculous.

Okay, sometimes I am.

But because life is already serious enough.

If I trip over a chair, I can either spend the next ten minutes being annoyed about it…

or laugh.

If I break a glass, I can mourn the glass…

or laugh while getting the broom.

If Mom sneaks up behind me and makes me jump three feet into the air, I can complain…

or laugh with her.

I’ve discovered that being able to laugh at yourself is strangely freeing.

You’re not saying you’re worthless.

You’re simply saying:

“Well. That happened.”

And then you move on.

Lesson #6: People who love you will learn your language

Families develop their own language.

Not necessarily actual words.

Sometimes it’s a look.

A raised eyebrow.

A sigh.

A particular tone of voice.

A “Hmm.”

A “Okay.”

Which may or may not actually mean okay.

😂

Sometimes my daughters know what I’m thinking before I’ve finished saying anything.

Sometimes Mom says something and I already know what she’s going to say next.

We’ve lived together long enough to develop our own little shorthand.

It’s one of those things you don’t notice until you realize that someone outside the family has absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.

And you suddenly think:

“Oh. This is our thing.”

I like that.

Lesson #7: Home doesn’t have to be perfect to be happy

Maybe this is the biggest lesson of all.

Our home isn’t perfectly quiet.

Things break.

People get irritated.

Someone is hungry.

Someone is tired.

Someone can’t find something.

Someone is laughing.

Someone is shouting from another room.

Mom is looking for something.

I’m looking for my eyeglasses even though they’re probably on my head.

And somehow…

life continues.

It isn’t polished.

It isn’t Instagram-perfect.

But there is laughter.

There is food.

There are hugs.

There are inside jokes.

There are people who know me well enough to laugh when I do something ridiculous and still be there when I need them.

And I think that’s what makes a home.

Not perfection.

Familiarity.

The kind where you don’t have to perform.

The kind where someone can see you at your most ridiculous and still say:

“Anak talaga kita.”

And somehow, that’s enough.

Apparently, I did learn something

I started this thinking I had accidentally learned a collection of random household survival skills.

And maybe I did.

I learned to keep extra glasses.

I learned that my mother can apparently materialize out of thin air.

I learned that my daughters are more thoughtful about money than I sometimes give them credit for.

I learned that hugs don’t have an expiration date.

I learned that dinner doesn’t have to be perfect to be appreciated.

I learned that furniture apparently moves when I’m walking.

Still investigating that one.

But underneath all the ridiculous little lessons, I think my family has taught me something much bigger.

Life is easier when you have people with whom you can be completely yourself.

People who know your quirks.

People who know your moods.

People who know that you’re clumsy.

People who know your stories because they’ve lived through some of them with you.

People who can laugh with you without laughing at you.

And perhaps most importantly…

People who can see your imperfections and still make you feel at home.

So yes, I accidentally learned a lot from living with my family.

Patience.

Humor.

Grace.

Perspective.

And the importance of buying drinking glasses in bulk.

You never know.

The furniture might move again.