Bookworm

"A room without books is like a body without a soul" ~ Cicero

My dearest E.,

You've developed into a regular little bookworm, just like your mother. As I write this, you're leafing through your hardcover Tinkerbell story book, talking to yourself, telling yourself the story I had told you over and over again. You tell a story with such earnest devotion, throwing yourself into Tinkerbell's character, intonating in your voice the high squeaks she is wont to make. 

You love your Glitter Books collection, a birthday present from Uncle James & Aunt Christine- every night, we read through the Little Fairy, Little Mermaid, Little Princess and Little Dolly together- we count the bluebells in the pictures, the fluffy blue and pink sheep, the little snowflakes falling across the meadows, the friendly frogs by the pond where the Little Fairy lost her magic wand. We lie in bed together, hair fanned out on our pillows like sunburst, as we rub noses and I tell you (again) the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Sometimes, you interrupt me, telling me what happened, and I can only smile with happiness, because you remember these tales with such vivid clarity.

You are a book-lover, a soul of wisdom blooming in your little mind and body. You marvel at my book collection- once day, my bountiful collection will be yours, and yours to keep... I cannot wait to pass them down to you and I know that you will enjoy them as much as I have. 

I am so proud of you, my little munchkin. You never see me watching you quietly as I do, when you read your books, and tell your stories to your toys. I smile, inside and outside, my heart aches a little bit, overflowing with the love I have for you.

Let the words nourish you, my sweet one. Let your imagination run wild in lands far beyond what we see. Be not afraid to dream.

Another year older

"Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday to you" ~ Traditional nursery song

My dearest E,

It's your birthday tomorrow- the 25th of October. I cannot believe it has been 3 years since you arrived. I'm amazed, just looking at you now. You're practically grown-up.

I've planned a little party for you, with your favourite cousins, Maya & Leia, and your favourite squeeze, Gavin, your Godpa's dearest son. Along with your grandparents, your Uncle James & Jerry, and Aunts Christine & Joanne. And all Mummy's and Daddy's closest friends- your Godma & Godpa, Aunts Shen, Eileen & June and Uncles Calvin, Paul & Eugene. A small party, to be sure- but what fun we'll have. And I'd rather have these people, as I'm sure you will, than any other people in the world.

Because they're family.

Happy Birthday, my princess.

Head full of thoughts

My dearest E.,

My head is full of thoughts, of things that I want to tell you. And I say to myself, I need to put all this down in writing so that you'll remember them. But I never have the time. My life is such a roller-coaster ride these days. I'm happy because I feel fulfilled. My work has picked up tremendously, resulting in later nights at the office. Longer days, away from you. It makes me sad, but it also makes me want to strive harder to become better at what I do, because it means a good life for you if I do better.

I'm no longer the young starry-eyed girl I used to be. I've become a career-driven woman, ambitious to a certain extent now that I've found happiness at the work place. I want to achieve so much more than I already have. I want to be made a partner of the firm I work in because that is the next natural goal for me. But to do that, I need to prove myself worthy- that I am not only intelligent and good at what I do, but that I also want to grow with this firm- and I do want to grow with this firm. It niggles at my heart and some days, it gets a little painful, knowing how much I love where I am, and the people I work with. Some days I can't believe I've found a place like this where I am completely stressed-out, but oh!- so completely happy, too. And my personal goals for achievement will lead us, our family, towards a better, more comfortable life. I know that. It'll just take some time.

Maybe I want to tell you I'm sorry. For sometimes not being there when you come home to our house. For not putting you to bed and singing you your bedtime songs. For only spending half an hour with you in the mornings before I rush off to the office. I'm sorry. But I've promised you, and I've kept my word- that my weekends are all yours. No work, no crazy rushing-around. Just pure, unadulterated, happy times with my baby. And what happy times they are!

You leave me breathless most times. You tire me out because you're just so active, you want to do so many things! I don't have the heart to say 'no' because I love you, because you deserve to be all that you want to be. What an individual you've become! You will be 3 years old next month, I can hardly believe it. Has a year almost flown by?

Your father and I have registered for you to begin your early education next year. A beautiful, spacious and airy school called Peter & Jane in Mutiara Damansara, a stone's throw away from our home. You've been there twice, and went into raptures about "my school, Mummy!" You were so happy. I know you'll be happy there. Next year, you will be in nursery for half a day. And I promised myself that I would be there your first week of school. Maybe I'll keep out of sight, maybe I won't. I'm sure you'll fare fine, like you always do, you brave, independent girl!

But this just means- you're growing up. No longer a baby. But I'd still like to think of you a being that, my little baby. You'll always be my baby. Even if you're 30 years old. Please don't grow up too quickly.

Unhappy

"If there must be trouble let it be in my day, that my child may have peace" ~ Thomas Paine

My dearest E.,

It is a beautiful, warm night. Or early morning, if you will. It is 3.15 a.m. and all I can think about is how you fill my life. May I tell you this, my sweet? I am unhappy. As unhappy as I've never been before. My worries and troubles- you are too young to understand them. Perhaps someday when you are older, I will tell you about them.

So I am unhappy.

But I thank God for you. In my unhappiness, there is a ray of light, a beacon of hope, and that is you. And in my unhappiness, I persevere and trudge along willingly, because there is you, and it is you that makes me complete.

If the oceans may tear us all apart, remember this: that you have a home with me. I love you. You are my heart. My life-blood.

I am unhappy. But I am rational. I am responsible.

Above all, I am strong in my love for you. That, alone, is enough to sustain me in this horrible journey I take. Forgive me for the things I do- because they are only for your good, your betterment in life.

In my unhappiness, you are the only thing that could ever be. You just are.

You leave me speechless

"Much silence makes a powerful noise" ~ African Proverb

My dearest E.,

Do the Heavens wonder why you leave me speechless, with my heart overflowing with untold love and joy? You silence me with your words, your powerful eyes, your beautiful nature. You silence me when you say things like, "I want some cultured milk, Mummy."

Or when you see me writhing in pain as I suffered from a stomach illness and diarrhoea a few days ago. "Mummy has tummy ache. Mummy go see doctor. OK?"

Or when you twist and turn in bed beside me in the middle of the night and I feel your little hand gently caressing my cheek when you whisper, "I love you, Mummy. Mummy, hug me pleeth." (You speak with a little lisp).

But most of all, I am speechless when you are simply there. And I know that you love me back.

Updates

"Have something to say, and say it as clearly as you can. That is the only secret" ~ Matthew Arnold

My dearest E.,

In the time I had last written in these pages, many wonderful things have happened.

1. Christmas, the New Year and Chinese New Year came and left with much fanfare, with much cherished time spent with family and friends.
2. I self-published my first book. Although I've only ordered 1 copy for my own (I'm not quite ready yet to unleash it to the general public), it's a wonderful thing to see your work in print. It's a piece of non-fiction work called "Along Came Emilie". No stars for guessing the source of my inspiration.
3. I received a considerable salary increment and a generous bonus. Alas, I've spent it all!- or have I? I've tucked away a tidy little nest-egg for my sweet little baby. And blew the rest on Coach and Louis Vuitton handbags....
4. We bought a new family car.
5. We went for a lovely holiday in the beautiful island of Langkawi. Sun, surf and sand, with lots of sleep and relaxation, in the company of friends, both old and new.
6. You learnt to speak, oh-so-wonderfully, with a widened vocabulary of words
7. I discovered Philip Pullman's "His Dark Materials" trilogy and found new heights of my love for books and reading
8. You discovered the magical world of princesses, fairies, unicorns and Strawberry Shortcake and I got the opportunity to re-visit my favourite ballets and fairy-tales
9. Your godma bought me a beautiful Tiffany & Co. ring for my birthday (which, incidentally is 2 weeks away, but she liked the thought of giving my gift to me earlier)
10. I fell in love with you all over again, every single day, more and more and more....

Baa Baa Black Sheep, how are you?

"Baa Baa Black Sheep, have you any wool? Yes, sir, yes, sir, three bags full!" ~ Traditional nursery rhyme

My dearest E.,

This morning, as I dressed to go to work, you played with the new pink hair band I had bought for you, the one with a little clip-on teddy bear decorated with shiny crystal bits. You placed it in your hair, grinned at me and said, "Nice, Mummy!" I chortled as I got dressed.

And then, as you stroked your teddy bear and put the hair band over its head, I heard you singing, "Baa Baa Black Sheep, how are you? Yes sir yes sir, woo woo woo...." I hid a smile and continued to watch you. And you continued to sing those words over and over again. Your father, who was also dressing for work, winked at me and we both shared a happy smile, watching our little daughter sing and ask a black sheep how it was.

A year has passed

"Old Time, that greatest and longest established spinner of all!.... his factory is a secret place, his work is noiseless, and his hands are mutes". ~Charles Dickens

My dearest E.,

I can hardly believe that almost a year has flown by since I started writing in this blog for you. When I began, I wanted to be able to leave behind for you, lessons I had learnt in my life, changes I had gone through, my thoughts and hopes: these all were written as a means of instructions or guide, call it what you will, to you. And most of all, I wrote these entries in this blog because I wanted to, because you had given me such great inspiration to write, to release the feelings that lay quietly within my heart. Because I wanted you to know how much I love you.

Not too long ago, someone gave me an idea that I should publish all that I have written here. I've played with that idea quite a fair bit, honestly. I think I like the idea of having a book written just for you, which I can share with other mothers and people who'd maybe enjoy reading it. I know, these are thoughts which are extremely intimate and personal perhaps- but I'm not afraid of sharing my love for you. I really am not. I like the idea that one day, after I am dead and gone from this world, that you will have this strange little book I've written for you, and that it will give you comfort to "hear" my words ringing permanently on the ink-printed pages.

I don't expect that you will turn out like me. Quite the contrary. I think you have the makings of a very special individual person.

Perhaps this is where I should stop writing.... and start talking to you more, because you are 2 years old now, I can speak to you and your level of comprehension is clearly more advanced than it was a year ago. Or perhaps I will do both. Continue writing in this blog while I teach you things about life. I don't want to embarass you, though. I don't know if you'll be embarassed someday- what was my crazy, demented mother thinking, proclaiming her love for me to the world, telling strangers how I grew up and what I did as a child, even worse, my mother confessing to all her little failings! I chuckle a little as I think of these thoughts racing through your head, perhaps in 12-15 years down the road.

But time is very precious, my sweet. Soon enough, you will no longer listen to your old mother. You will have ideas of your own, thoughts independent from mine. You will no longer be dependent on me for your survival. So let me indulge in this just once. Let me say the things I need to say, want to say, to you.

What a wonderful year it has been, my sweet pea. And again and again- I'm ever so thankful, ever so happy, that you are my daughter.

Talk talk talk

"Sometimes when I'm talking, my words can't keep up with my thoughts. I wonder why we think faster than we speak. Probably so we can think twice" ~ Bill Watterson

My dearest E.,

You talk! Terribly adult-like. You form funny little sentences. You learn funny new words. Your voice is tiny and cute, just like a baby's should be. Sometimes you talk and talk, and I don't understand what you say. You nod and say "OK", "Alright!". Sometimes you say the bad F-word, or something you say "Shit" but we pretend we don't hear you, and then we fervently pray that you won't repeat it. You're like a sponge, absorbing things around you at a pace that I cannot keep up with.

You pay me compliments. You told me, "Nice, Mummy," when I put on a new red blouse for work. And smoothed the front of my blouse as you leaned into me to kiss my cheek. You wag your finger at me and say "Shame, shame!" when I undress in front of you. You tell me what you want: books, TV, your milk, food, TOYS. You love your toys and books. You want me to read to you all the time. And you talk and talk when I do.

You are ever SO precious. I don't care if you talk and talk and talk and never stop.

Being Busy

"Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans" ~ John Lennon

My dearest E.,

Yes. Life has indeed happened to me. In the times that I've been busy of late, I've experienced great work stress: great but strangely fulfilling, leaving me with the notion that I am somewhat important to my work organization. I've experienced illness and recuperation. I've experienced a little free time. I've had the opportunity to plan and celebrate your birthday with your little friends and our loved ones. Yes, E., you are now the grand old age of 2 years!

What a wonderful fun birthday party we had for you. Friends and family crammed our tidy little house (which wasn't so tidy after the party), a 40-odd-strong crowd whom I had to cook for (yes, cook! All by myself!). There were balloons and gifts, laughter and merriment. I put on your sweet indigo & red sailor dress for you, you looked a dream. And you were a gracious host, sharing your toys and happiness with your other little friends. I was a flurried host, making sure everyone had enough to eat and drink, entertaining our guests as they thronged at our gates and flooded our tiny living room. It was raining, but it couldn't be more perfect. And at the end of the night, when our guests had gone home, I sighed contentedly and dragged myself to bed, tired out with the events of the day.

Did I have any idea then that a dark event would overshadow our happy celebrations? Of course I didn't, but it was a sign of things to come when you fell ill the very next day, vomiting and purging. You spiked a high fever, sending the alarm bells in my head ringing, and your father and I frantically rushed you to the nearest paediatric clinic we could find open on a Sunday morning. The diagnosis: you had a stomach virus, a rather nasty one which had been making its way around our abode and general public, infecting people like a nasty plague. It was no coincidence that both your father and I had suffered a bout of it the previous week, and that at the time you fell sick, your uncle, my brother, had been hospitalized for the same illness. It came to my knowledge that many more people we knew had suffered the same illness quite recently.

My heart bled as you grew weaker, your cries louder, your need for comfort greater. You were small and tiny, your body hot to the touch, your cheeks flushed with the fever and illness ravaging your body. Your father and I rushed you to the hospital, and you were immediately admitted and placed on IV drips. Did I cry when you did, when the kind old doctor, who had not intended to hurt you, drew a line in your vein for the IV? Your father couldn't bear to look, but I did, and as you cried, I kissed and kissed your tears away, wishing that I could take away your pain. And in the hospital we spent for 3 long days.

Do you know what it feels like- to be helpless and watch your child suffer and cry from an illness? You were delirious in your sleep, whimpering for me, wanting to be close to me all the time. I stayed beside you, slept beside you, held you in my arms, all the time praying for your speedy recovery. The pain that hit me, and still lingers within my heart, to see you in that frail state, has not gone away. I suspect that it never will, because my eyes have been opened to your pain, emblazoned forever in my mind.

And so, this is life. When we are busy doing things, we live our lives. Good things and bad things happen to all of us. Your illness was a bad thing, possibly the worst thing that has happened to us. I am thankful that it has passed. But with it came a good thing: I know you're only a little girl, only 2 years old. But in your time of illness, you knew that I would be there for you, to love you and care for you. I hope you will carry this knowledge with you for the rest of your life.

Of drugs & such

"In the course of history many more people have died for their drink and their dope than have died for their religion or their country" ~ Aldous Huxley

My dearest E.,

I am not talking about the drugs that you take when you are ill, or the drugs you take to try to keep yourself healthy (like vitamins). Let us face the truth: that we live in an age of pills, prescription, legal or otherwise. And I need to tell you this because it is important that I do, that you value your life for what it is worth, because it is a wonderful life that has been given to you- and I hope that you never ruin what you have for an addiction to drugs or alcohol.

You don't want to know that your mother has done some bad things, but I will tell you this because you are my daughter and I owe this to you: that I was once addicted to nicotine. I smoked for several years when I left secondary school. I smoked throughout the whole of my 20s. I smoked for 12 years, until I got pregnant with you and stopped. And started again a few months after you were born. I am clean again now. And I hope to be for the remainder of my life.

Have I done drugs? Yes, I have. Marijuana. I was 18. And that was where I drew the line. I admit, had my resolve not been stronger, I may have ended up abusing even more illegal substances. I was able to stay grounded, because I thought of my parents, and how upset they'd be if anything happened to me, if I became a junkie, if I became an addict. I was a party girl, I had cool friends. I now know that no matter how cool my friends had been, how they told me I was cool, too, that it was ok to be doing drugs, they were wrong. It's never right to be using substances. And drugs are the worst, because they don't react the same with everybody. We're all special, we're individuals with different body systems. What is ok for someone may not be ok for you. Your body may react very differently.

Have I done alcohol? Sure, I have. I've had drinks, and I've got drunk heaps of times. I was young and carefree. I was never an alcoholic, though. And I always remembered my father telling me not to drink and drive. It's very important. Even though I knew my father would beat the living daylights out of me for leaving my car in a strange place overnight, I got a sober friend to send me home once when I knew I had drunk too much to drive carefully. Now I have the occasional glass of wine, a shot of whiskey, some beer. On special occasions. I don't like alcohol much these days. I'd like to think it's because I'm growing more mature, and perhaps, more responsible? And I ALWAYS watched my drinks, whether I was in a club or even if I was in the company of friends. Be very careful with your drinks.

I read a very sad, horrifying story in Readers' Digest, about a wonderful girl who was fun, loving and popular. Her parents, teachers and friends adored her. She had good grades, she was generous and kind, she was a good daughter who got along well with her parents, and she had friends she loved to hang out with. But she made a little mistake one day which cost her her life. She took an Ecstasy pill when her friend offered it to her. Perhaps she was thinking, it's only one little pill. And everyone said it made them feel good after they took it. That one pill killed her because her body could not take it. She died, and she was only 16 years old. I wanted to cry for her parents. And it scared me when I read that story, because that girl could be you someday. And for the life of me, I want to protect you forever, but I know that I can't. So, you must protect yourself.

I know, that when you are a teenager or young adult, growing up and finding out things about yourself, other people and the world, it can be a great challenge, and you find yourself confused about many things. But the world can be a beautiful place if only you allow it. Success will come to you if you work hard and allow it into your life. I hope this doesn't happen- but the likelihood that it will is almost a surety: that you will someday become secretive and sullen, and do not want to share your life with your parents. Your parents may seem annoying, over-protective, cloying. Nothing is ever good enough for them. You want to break free. You're growing up, you're not a baby anymore! You want to make your own decisions! I have been there, my sweet one. I have been in that place. And I realize now, that I needed to be there to become the person that I am today, and because I had been there, I am now more responsible and appreciative, loving and kind, and because I had been there, I know now how immense a parent's love is. It is a wonderful thing which surpasses everything in the world, I know this for a fact.

It was probably my parents' love for me, at the back of my mind, that kept me firm in my beliefs, in not giving in to extreme peer pressure (I did cave in to peer pressure, to a certain extent) and to do the things "all the kids were doing" in my time. Sex, drugs, rock & roll and all that jazz. I'm not perfect, I wasn't exactly Ms. Goody Two-Shoes. I was rebellious, but not so rebellious that I would've ruined my life.

It was also at this time that I realized, that the old adage about how children were exactly like their parents, or copied or imitated their parents by example, was far from the truth. My parents were good, exemplary people who showed me good examples, they were role models who taught me how to be a compassionate generous person, who showered me with love in the hopes that I would be a cheery, lovable person who would shower that love onto others. So where did they go wrong, if indeed it is true that children follow their parents by example? I cannot see a single thing that they have done wrong, except to give me everything I ever wanted. My parents did not teach me how to consume alcohol, or drugs. My parents did not teach me how to pick up a cigarette and smoke. My parents did not teach me how to have sex with a boy. So how did I learn all these....? I gave in to peer pressure.

I was nothing like my parents, I behaved like a shameless hussy, and I was ashamed, but only much later. Which also serves as a notice to me, my sweet E., that regardless of how I bring you up, that you may, someday be compelled to conform with your surroundings and your friends. And the only hope that I have for you, if that ever happens, is that you know where you stand, that you must judge the right from wrong, the docile from the extreme, and that you will always be careful and look out for yourself. And know, no matter how embarassed you are to explain to your mother that you'd had sex with a boy, or that you smoked a cigarette, your mother will forgive you and love you anyway, because she knows what you're talking about.

Your mother wants you to be a good, honourable person, to have the same values she was brought up with. Your mother knows that the teenage years and your early adult years can be trying, but that you will pass that phase and it will shape you into a better person if you would allow it to. Your mother wants you to be strong and firm in your beliefs, so that you will never ever have to doubt your worth as a person: know that you are special and wonderful, and if the people out there cannot see that simply because you want to hold on to your values and/or beliefs, then they are just not meant to be your friends or people deserving of your love.

Your mother wants you to know that she loves you unconditionally, and that if she ever shouts at you, or is angry at you, it is only because she loves you. And there is nothing to be ashamed about, ever, because you are your mother's daughter. You are special.

Even in adversity.....

.....you smile at me and say "Mummy" first thing in the morning, and kiss me on my lips.

.....you twirl your finger around your Snow White night-dress and pretend to do a little dignified dance.

.....you offer me your hugs and cuddles, you know I feel sad that you are ill.

.....you cry out, "Toys!" at the little toy store in the hospital.

.....you tell the hospital nurse, "Ok! Ok! Ok!" and you cry a little, after she pushes in a suppository to make your fever go down.

.....you are brave and clever and such a good girl, I love you so, and I am sorry that you are ill.

Walking and talking

"Sometimes I forget I have ears and then my hands go up there and I'm like "hey what are those!"" ~ Baby Bob from the TV Series, Baby Bob (2002-2003)

My dearest E.,

I like to watch you, walking and talking. Sometimes, you look like a cute little walking doll, fixed in her focus, inert on talking, forming words in your mouth, testing them and rolling them off your tongue. I have to admit- sometimes I don't understand what you're saying, even though you're talking to me, oh-so-earnestly, with your eyes lit up and your head nodding. And I pretend like I understand, until I realize that you intend for me to do something for you, and I have no idea what it is. Then you scowl at me, but laugh after that, and move on to something else to talk about.

You talk the moment you wake up in the morning, hair all messed-up and puffy. But you smile at me and say "Hi!" first thing in the morning. I'm still amazed that you rarely cry when you wake up in the morning. You just look so happy to be awake. And then I go about brushing my teeth, brushing your teeth and washing your face. And then I take my morning shower, with the door open so that I can watch you, and you talk and talk, playing with your soft toys, or with things fished out from my handbag.

You sing Baa Baa Black Sheep quite well now, although sometimes you have a little problem pronouncing words. But that's all ok, little babe. You will learn as you grow older. You like Row Row Row Your Boat, too, and This Old Man. Sometimes, you hum when you don't know the words, or what sounds like the correct words. You're such a musical baby, oh, I forget, you will be 2 very soon. No longer a baby. A toddler. A little girl.

You talk all the time. You never stop. You're always busy, talking and walking and doing things around the house. I love watching you do this. I could watch you all day.... But I remember that I have to talk back to you, too, otherwise it'd be rude, because you're talking to me, and all I can do is stare at you with a silly smile and contented happiness in my heart.

The sight of you

"Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart" ~ Kahlil Gibran

My dearest E.,

Yesterday, I laid eyes on you after 2 whole days of solitude and loneliness without your presence, your wonderful smile, your kindly eyes. I was at an event organized by the senior partner in my office- and your father was to pick you up and bring you to meet me there. The sight of you, it took my breath away, my heart was full with emotions. When I glimpsed you sitting in your stroller, your father standing behind you, my heart melted and I wanted to run to you and shout with joy.

Run, I did- but I was dignified enough to hold you close to me, breathe in your scent deeply and kiss you incessantly. And when you hugged me, your arms around my neck, I wanted to cry for joy, that you were home with us. And I lifted you up, into my arms where you belonged.

The light of beauty in your heart- which shines through and is magnified a thousand times on your physicality: that is what I missed most when you were away. If I could have things my way, all my way, I would never want you to be apart from me, ever again.

And we walked together, mother and daughter, and I found myself walking taller, prouder, that my beautiful, sweet little babe was walking beside me, charming strangers, smiling coyly, well-behaved. Pretty as a picture. My baby.

Your birthday is coming!

"Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time" ~ Jean Paul Richter

My dearest E.,

It is now August, and I am very excited, because your birthday draws nearer (it is in October), and I can't wait to start planning for a little party for you!

We threw a big party last year when you turned 1, with much fanfare, expense and with many guests. How long ago that seemed-you were so much smaller and you could barely walk. This year, for your 2nd birthday, your father and I have decided on a small, intimate affair: a party at our home, with home-made decorations and food: yes, I will cook and prepare a scrumptious meal for your guests!

When you come to my age, birthdays are no longer a big deal: age is just a number. But when you are a child, make the most of your birthdays and parties, because it will be the most wonderful times you will remember when you are an adult.

Miss you like hell

"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell" ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

My dearest E.,

I am a weakling, I know I am. I am also a crybaby. Last week on Wednesday, your father had fallen ill with exhaustion . The task of caring for him, of course, fell on me. I was also exhausted because of the lack of sleep, and the decision was made for you to stay over with your grandparents to enable us to recuperate.

I don't have to tell you how terrible I felt that night. Your father and I decided to have a quick dinner outside, and as I sat at the booth there after we had ordered our food, and your father had gone to use the gents', I took out my mobile phone and watched videos of you on it. And felt tears pooling in my eyes when I looked at you. Those lively, carefree, sweet pictures of you. And felt that huge void in my heart. The tears came, faster and faster, I hadn't enough tissues to wipe the streaks that crossed my face.

I wanted to cry and bawl out loud, but I didn't. I continued watching my favourite video of you, dancing to my rendition of London Bridge and Baa Baa Black Sheep, and the tears continued to fall silently into my lap. Your father came back from the gents' and thought something terrible had happened.

And indeed, it was terrible for me, sweetie, to know that when I went to bed that night, you would not be lying beside me, and I would have no one to sing The Sound of Music to.

That pain of missing you filled me throughout the night, I barely slept, and the next day, and finally, when I laid eyes on you on Wednesday evening, my world was complete again.

Today, you have left to go to Port Dickson with your grandparents. I know that I will feel that terrible void again when I go home, so I intend to busy myself and go to the gym with your godmother and Uncle Calvin. I try not to think of your empty bed, with your sweet baby smell lingering in our room. I try not to think of your arms around my neck as you hug and kiss me good night.

You will have a wonderful time in Port Dickson, I know you will. But it doesn't help that I feel this way, and I'm glad, though, that you have no way of knowing now how I truly feel when we are apart. Because mothers are supposed to be strong role models for their children. And I certainly do not want to fail you and be a weak role model, simply because I hate being apart from my beloved daughter.

Bedtime Lullaby: The Sound Of Music

"The hills are alive with the sound of music...."~ Rodgers & Hammerstein II

My dearest E.,

The Sound of Music (TSOM), one of the greatest classics of all time, is a cinch when it comes to getting you to sleep. Three times, I'd sing this to you during bedtime: the first time, your eyelids start drooping, but you continue to twiddle about with your blanket, the second, your eyes are closed, you suck on your Minnie Mouse pacifier vigorously and you turn your body inwards closer to mine, the third, your pacificer drops out of your mouth and you breathe quietly, sleeping like an angel. I tell you, I have smiled and have not stopped smiling on the day I started singing this song to you, and realizing how much you loved it. And how easy it is to get you to go to bed once I start singing.

TSOM was a movie musical written by Richard Rodgers (music) and Oscar Hammerstein II (lyrics) and the 1965 production of the movie musical starring Dame Julie Andrews, one of my favourite actresses of all time, and Sir Christopher Plummer, shot to phenomenal success. The story of TSOM was taken from a book written by Maria Von Trapp entitled "The Story of the Trapp Family Singers". The songs featured in the movie musical have become amazingly popular classics. I can bet that there isn't a person who cannot sing the first opening lines of TSOM. And then there are songs like Edelweiss, My Favourite Things, So Long, Farewell and the Lonely Goatheard (which has been "borrowed" by Gwen Stefani in her song, Wind it Up).

Here are the lyrics to the Sound of Music: I promise that when you are older, I shall buy a DVD and we shall watch this beloved movie musical together.

The hills are alive with the sound of music

With songs they have sung for a thousand years

The hills fill my heart with the sound of music

My heart wants to beat every song it hears.

My heart wants to beat like the wings

of the birds that fly from the lake to the trees

My heart wants to sigh like the chime

that flies from the church on a breeze

To laugh like a brook when it trips and falls

Over stones on its way

To sing through the night

Like a lark that is learning to pray

I go to the hills when my heart is lonely

I know I will hear what I've heard before

My heart will be blessed with the sound of music

And I'll sing once more.

Of friends and friendship

“Surround yourself with people who will only lift you higher” ~ Oprah Winfrey

I felt compelled to write this because these people, your friends, will be one of the most important features in your life. Like family, friends occupy a special place in your heart. But there are many types of friends. And eventually, as you grow older and wiser, you tend to weed out the fair-weathered friends, the insincere, the ones who use you because they have ulterior motives, the ones who call themselves friends only in name and then utter half-truths or dishonest things about you when you have your back turned. I’d hate to say this because friendship is a wonderful thing, once you have discovered its true meaning: but along the way, you must keep your guard up. There is a certain measure of distrust that you must employ for self-survival. And your true friends will remain.

You will meet people from all walks of life when you grow up. But keep yourself grounded, your feet firmly planted on the ground. Do not discriminate by gender, race, colour, social standing, etc. Open your heart (carefully) to those who open theirs to you, but learn to take all colourful accounts of life from others with a pinch of salt. Believe what you see with your eyes, not what you hear with your ears. Learn to trust your instincts and listen to your inner voice. It is, as I have discovered, one of the most effective survival methods you will come across.

Oh, I know many people, E. I have many “friends”, but when I say friends, I mean people that I know. As I grew older, and the people who were once close to me drifted further away from me, I learnt to see only those who remained, notwithstanding the circumstances. I have a handful of good friends, people I trust and love and whom I can count on. People for whom I will sacrifice my life and liberty, because they will sacrifice theirs for me too. I have a childhood friend from primary school- she is a true friend to this very day. Our friendship has spanned a course over 20 years. She lives abroad now: a small woman with a truly big heart, who has given up her luxurious life in Malaysia to do God’s bidding in poverty-torn Aceh. A woman who has given up the comforts of living to serve the noble quest of rebuilding a nation torn by the December 2005 tsunami. A woman who, in all the years I have known her, powered God’s words on our earth. A woman who loved me and understood me, despite the vast ocean of difference between us. And when she returns to Malaysia for a break, we meet up and catch up on old times, as if time had stood still and things had never changed. We pick up where we’d last left of.

And then, when I started work in my early twenties, I met a group of people who were destined to be my friends forever. Or so, I'd like to think. It's been over 6 years since we met that day when I was a fresh-faced graduate all ready for work. Some dropped out of the "group" but a few of us stuck by together and saw each other through break-ups, weddings and children, amongst others. I avoid using the word "best friend" because inevitably, when once journeys through the roads of life, one meets a special someone who will, at that point, be the "best friend". So one tends to interchange "best friends", depending on whom one is closest to at that point of time. But I have good friends, are they all my best friends? So I adopt the Hollywood, diva-like term to these people, they are my BFF.

The years have passed, but my friends remain. In particular, your godparents. Extend the circle a little more, and we find partner, spouse and friends of your godparents. It doesn't matter that we're all a little older, or that we don't go on holidays together anymore (because we have children now!- and let's face it, a parent must first consider the needs of the child: comfort, food, convenience, healthcare facilities- before deciding to go on a holiday), or that some of us meet each other once every month or so. Some have moved abroad to work: Singapore & Australia. Some have found new passionate adventures, like rock-climbing, which the others, unfortunately, through some measure of constraint, are unable to participate in. Some bond because we're mothers hoping to achieve financial freedom.

And you, the apple of my eye, has become the apple of another friend's eye. He who loves you with unbridled attention, who seeks to ensure your every comfort and need, who gives in to your every whim and fancy. He who bought a pair of swimming shorts just so that he could be one of the first people to be with you when you first took a dip in the pool. He who cares for you like a father cares for his own child. He is one of my dearest friends.

We will all be friends until the day we die, and simply because we have shared with each other the most significant events in each other's lives. This is the kind of friendship that I hope you will experience someday. These are the kind of people I hope you will surround yourself with in your life. Because they will lift you up and stand beside you, no matter the circumstances. Love these friends like you love your family. In more ways than one, they will become your family too.

Relax, take it easy

"Sometimes the most important thing in a whole day is the rest we take between two deep breaths, or the turning inwards in prayer for five short minutes" ~ Etty Hillesum

My dearest E.,

Let me share a brief folly of mine with you, a folly caused of my wanderings into unchartered regions- the information technology area and all things connected thereto. Last week, I thought that it would be great to have my own domain name and own domain host. Big ideals for a little person. I had an inkling how I would go about it: after all, the Internet is almost endless when it comes to information and knowledge. I knew I'd find some instructions on how to go about my task. The full account of my experience is recounted here.

But what I wanted to share with you, isn't so much about my experience. I want to share with you what I received out of that experience, and I don't mean tangibles, like a website with my own name, or content in a blog written by me. I received a valuable lesson: and it wasn't the first time that this lesson was being imparted to me. Many years earlier, my parents had tried to guide me through this lesson. I must've tuned out along the way, and only remembered this recently.

Relax, take it easy. It is that simple.

What do you when you're faced with a problem? Don't rush headlong into it. Don't allow yourself to panic and lose your breath or start hyperventilating. Don't allow the force of negativities to surround you. Don't berate yourself. Don't ask how the problem came about excessively (except maybe once, so that you can find a solution). And the most important don't of all is, Don't Panic! You will ask me, how can I not panic, not worry, not be distressed. But this is possible. A problem is usually exacerbated by excessive panic or worry. In that distressed state, your mind is clouded, your judgment becomes questionable and your focus is unbalanced. You want to find a solution immediately, so you don't see the little things that will help you reach your goals. Perhaps your heart will start beating quicker, the adrenaline will course through your veins like a flooding river- these physical traits will only serve to bring your mind to a snap-close, and however hard you may try to pry it open, it stays shut. Because you have been traumatized.

My mother taught me long ago how I could simply take deep breaths to calm myself down. I even did a whole meditation course on that. I did yoga. I learnt to breathe. Along the way, I forgot all that I had learnt.

The world will not come to an end simply because there is a problem, whether caused by you or not. Life will go on. And so you must as well to make do with the circumstances presented to you. A long, deep breath taken slowly and calmly (close your eyes if you prefer) together with a minute or two of silent contemplation and emptying your mind completely, will not only ease your mind, but also fill your body with oxygen, funnelling through to your brain, and releasing positive energies throughout your system. A long deep breath serves you better than a solid minute of panic, shouting and running around.

When you breathe, you can rationalize, seek creative solutions to problems. Open your mind to possibilities, make necessary judgment calls. What has been done, has been done. Often, the mistake is to dwell on why a problem cropped up, the cause of the problem, the perpetrator of the problem, etc. When your thoughts are focused on the past, you cannot look towards the future for the solution.

I confess that my thoughts initially were jumbled, panicky. I could serve no purpose. I couldn't find solutions, even though it was right before my eyes. Because I had allowed myself to become over-consumed by the alleged loss of my blog content (and that, was one of the most horrible things to have happened to me). Only when I had finally decided that I was going to let it be, did the solution, like a flash of brilliance hit me. And I solved my problem.

Apply this lesson to everything you do, sweet cakes. Exams, work, love, relationships and most importantly, life. I promise you: although you may not always find solutions to your problems, you will be comforted knowing that you had done all your best with a clear and conscious mind.

Being Ill

“I enjoy convalescence. It is the part that makes the illness worthwhile” ~ George Bernard Shaw

My dearest E.,

There is no rest for the weary. Your father and I fell ill with the viral flu over the weekend. At first, the illness crept through us quietly and steadily, showing no physical signs of mutation, or that we would become worse for it. We had a wonderful weekend as usual. But come Monday, the illness ravaged our bodies, played with our minds, and we were consumed with lethargy and weakness. Afraid that you would catch the illness from us, we left you in the care of my parents, hoping that you would remain fit and well whilst we floundered at home to take care of ourselves. I called in sick and stayed in bed a lot on Monday and Tuesday. Short trips to the doctor’s and to buy meals were inevitable. We also popped by for a short hour on Monday and Tuesday night to look in at you at your grandparents’. We have prayed that you would not be infected with the flu virus that has been going around.

There is no time for convalescence. It is Wednesday and I am back at the office, working at half speed despite the workload that has built up while I was home nursing the illness. My head is heavy and my throat is slightly sore. My nose is clogged with semi-dried mucus which I have to clear loudly in the bathroom. My body still aches. I am sick and tired of having to take my antibiotics. I am lucky, though, that my thoughtful colleagues have tried to help me with the work load, and covered for me in some of my work duties while I was home. It is hard to find people like these.

It transpired that my boss’ wife and another colleague’s wife were also stricken with the viral flu. It is at times like these, when I am ill, that I wished I had taken better care of myself. I glanced with a little guilt at the almost-full box of Redoxon Vitamin C effervescent tablets sitting on my table. And when I opened my drawer to take out some stationery, my bottle of Blackmores Multi-vitamins stared at me from within. A few sachets of organic powdered health drinks were sadly chucked and relegated to a dark corner of the drawer, too, where I finally dug them out from hiding.

Work has been slow, because my brain is a little slow and woozy today. I gorged on a bacon sandwich for lunch, and not too long after, a clean and crisp ham sandwich. Gorging myself on empty carbohydrates and fat-filled pork also means that I am now a little sleepy and disoriented. The new table clock I bought from Ikea points to 4 p.m. It seems like an eternity before I can get off work and go home. I am dying to have you in my arms again, after 2 whole days of not being with you. If circumstances permit, I want to bury my face into your face and neck, breathing in the scent of your baby sweetness. If my voice allows me to, I want to sing “The Sound of Music” to you and watch you fall asleep after the first verse.

I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.

I hate being ill, because it means that you have to be away from me. I will myself to get better in the next few hours, or risk leaving you at your grandparents’ for another night. I will probably cry this time if I do again. The tears have been dammed up within me the past 2 days, because it is for your own good. But tonight, I may have to break the dam for fear that it will consume me.

Your little bed is empty beside mine. I have tucked Mr. Bunny and Ally under your fleece blanket. Last night, I heard the tinkling of little bells, they sounded like the little bells on your gold anklet: I forgot that you were at your grandparents’, and I automatically reached out to stroke you back to sleep, and my hand fell through the silvery beams of moonlight drifting in from the window.

Nothingness. A flat, smooth bed. Unslept in for the past 2 days.

I sleepily took Mr. Bunny and held him close to me, the bells sounded again and then I remembered that Mr. Bunny’s head would tinkle everytime he was picked up or moved. An in-built bell in a toy bunny’s head. My. Bunny had your baby scent all over. I fell asleep, dreaming of rabbits, babies and toys.