Monday, February 26, 2007


My dearest E.,

Although you are, to me, the sweetest, cutest, most beautiful, adorable-st little thing ever, you do have your grumpy moments too- which are, I must say, as equally endearing as your sweet moments!


My dearest E.,

You never cease to amaze me. Particularly over the past month. I can hardly believe how grown-up you are now. You've started talking a little, eager to utter new words you've learnt. Your comprehension and understanding astounds me. I always knew that you were a very personable baby, but I never knew just how personable. My friends remark to me, "What a cute little person E is!" You're coming out into your own.

I see little traits of my personality in you. Habits too. I still find it amazing, to know that you are your own person with many special attributes, but at the same time, possessing attributes similar to mine. It scares me- because it brings to mind what someone had said to me years ago- "you will find yourself turning into your mother as you grow older and wiser, and when you have your own child". It scares me- because it seems to be true. As I grow in wisdom and age, I also grow more motherly and my personality parellels are remarkably similar to my mother's. It scares me- because many years ago, I vowed that I would be my own person, and would not turn into my mother. Not because it's a bad thing, but simply because we want to feel that we will do things differently, things our mothers would not have done. I'm failing miserably in that aspect.

So, here I am telling you this now: perhaps one day when you become a mother, you'll turn into something like me, too. Which is a good thing, my sweets. I'd like to think of myself as a hip, cool Mom!

Watching you learn new things is an exciting journey. From helping your Daddy stack beer cans in the refrigerator, learning to drink from your own little plastic cup, feeding yourself (never mind the mess you make!), learning new words (flower, Daddy, no, yes, knee, bath), progressing to bath time in the shower, where you'd stand solemnly, touching shampoo bottles and taps whilst I gently rained water over your little body and head, to keeping your own toys in their little baskets after you've played with them, I discover more about you, my little daughter, each and every single day.

The past week we have spent together was a wonderful balm to my senses. Being with you for a whole week (I was on holiday for the Chinese New Year), without having to send you to your grandparents', was one of the most wonderful times I've had. We played, we laughed, we went out to malls and to the park, we had evening walks and afternoon slumbers together, we experimented with new things I cooked for you, we pored over your new Winnie the Pooh Little Touch Leap-Pad book, we drew circles and lines.....and so much more. Thank you for giving me such a lovely time, my sweet pea.

Now I write this from my office desk, and I reminisce about our past week together 24-7. I sigh a huge sigh of sadness because we can't do that everyday. But someday, my precious gem, I promise you I will. Work hard today, so we reap the benefits of the seeds we sow tomorrow. I hope that by the time tomorrow comes, you won't have grown up so much that you wouldn't want to hang out with your Mommy anymore.

Feeding grapes

My dearest E.,

First the beers. Now grapes. You fed me delicious seedless grapes from a huge glass bowl on Thursday night while we watched TV.

Like the gentle whirr of a ferris wheel, not unlike clockwork, you popped the little grapes into my mouth, one by one, a cheeky grin on your face throughout. I struggled to swallow the grapes quickly before the next one came, your little fingers clutching the ripe red fruit and pushing them excitedly into my mouth.

You're such a dear.

Helping Daddy with the beers

My dearest E.,

I walked into the kitchen a few days ago to prepare your lunch and what did I see?

Your Daddy and cute little you, Daddy sitting spread-eagled and you squatting on your chubby little legs, both on the kitchen floor in front of the refrigerator. Daddy had a crate of Carlsberg beer between his legs. He was going to refrigerate and get the beers chilled for the gathering we were having in our house that night.

As for you- you've found some great calling: you began handing single beer cans to your Daddy whilst he stocked them in our refrigerator!

I wish I had taken a picture.

I love to see how helpful you are to Mommy & Daddy.

Tuesday, February 6, 2007


My dearest E.,

You had a terrible bout of the viral flu last week. That worried me tremendously, and I missed a day of work to ensure that I was constantly at your side, reassuring you that I would be there no matter what the circumstances, and if you were in pain, hopefully, that my presence would soothe you into some form of comfort.

Your grandparents told me yesterday that you had a fever again during the day. When your father picked you up and brought you home (I had to work late last night), he told me over the phone that you were tired and listless, but still obliged to play about and smile. When I saw you upon reaching home, my heart almost broke when I saw you standing in your play pen, your arms outstretched towards me, you saying "Mama, ooh...". I dropped my bag and keys, ran to you and lifted you up into my arms, folding you close to me, kissing your head and cheeks, never wanting to let you go.

My sweet brave little girl. You laugh even in the face of adversity. Your body was warm to the touch, your eyes were red-rimmed with tiredness: but yet, the light of joy at seeing your mother after a long day being apart, still shone brightly in your big round eyes. I felt my soul being cleansed of all the day's happenings, the insecurities and unpleasantries, and revelled in your beautific smile.

You have that effect on me, cupcake.

When you fell asleep, I watched you sleeping as I stroked your hair, quietly singing "Twinkle twinkle little star".

You awoke this morning with a mournful cry, with a strange low moan in your throat, and then you began to cough a hacking, phlegmy cough. It broke my heart. I carried you out of your cot, into the warm bed beside me, and you snuggled close to me, faintly calling out in your delirious sleep, your small hands reaching for me. Your body was hot and looked so tiny beside me. I mixed you a batch of formula, which you drowsily guzzled, and then had to do the cruel thing of forcing you to take the sweet, pink baby Paracetamol down your throat. You certainly didn't like that, and screamed at me, tears running down your face.

My sweet E. Please get well soon. I can't bear for you to be enduring this suffering and discomfort. If I could, I wish I could simply hold you and all your sicknesses would melt away. If only God had given all mothers that ability to heal their sick children. But then again, I should be grateful that He had given you to me in the first place.

Sunday, February 4, 2007


"Mama...Mama you know I love you; Mama...Mama you're the queen of my heart; Your love is like tears from the stars; Mama I just want you to know; Loving you's like food to my soul..." ~ extract from the song "Mama" by Boyz II Men

My dearest E.,

I don't need to remind you how motherhood has changed my life. And that change is a positive one, an energizing one that gave new meaning to me and the realisation that I could do anything with you by my side. Becoming a mother has made me realise how much I love my own mother, too, and how selfless she has been all these years to ensure my happiness and comfort. Till this very day, her motherly love is strong and loyal- and I'm so happy to know that she is passing on the love she did to me, to you now.

I did something rather uncharacteristic of me last weekend when your father and I were at the Boyz II Men concert (perhaps someday, you will learn to appreciate their music the way we have, although by then, their songs may be 'oldies' to you). Boyz II Men made popular a very beautiful and enigmatic song called "Mama", written, of course, for their mothers. With sweet emotive lyrics and moving music, it has always been one of my favourite songs. So, when they sang that song during the concert, and urged us, the audience, to pick up our mobile phones, call our mothers and tell them how much we loved them, I did! Your father looked quite astounded that I did it. And frankly- I was, too, at myself.

Let's face it, cupcake. At some point in the future, you and I- we are almost certain to have issues we will not agree upon, we may be at logger-heads with each other. But I will never stop loving you. Just like I know, that although my own mother and I had experienced some pretty rough times together in my younger years (I was selfish and rebellious, and I hope you never become like me), I learnt to understand where she was coming from when I grew older- and wiser. As my appreciation for her grew, so too did my love, respect and admiration, for that brave lady who had left her homeland for Malaysia, not knowing a single person except for her husband, your dear dear grandfather (and my idol), not knowing our language- and yet persevering and bringing up selflessly and wonderfully 2 children who love her tremendously.

So when she picked up the phone that night, I had to scream over the loud music and the chorus of the audience singing along and tell her, "Mum! You have to listen to this song!" And I had lifted my mobile phone high into the hair, a smile wreathed on my face, hoping that she could listen to the music and hear those meaningful words I found so difficult to utter. I told her then that this was a song for mothers, and I wanted her to share that moment with me. And I told her "I love you, Mum". I could hear her smiling into the phone, her voice choking ever so briefly as she lovingly replied, "I love you too, darling". I hung up with a warm feeling in my heart. Just that one action, sweetheart, was enough for her. No other words were needed.

Perhaps one day, when you're at a concert, or in the bus, or sitting at your work desk thinking how dreary life can be, all you need to do is just pick up the phone and call me, and tell me you love me, and you need me. And I promise you: after that phone call, everything- everything will be alright.