Bedtime Lullaby: You'll Never Walk Alone

"Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart, and you'll never walk alone" ~ Rodgers & Hammerstein II

My dearest E.,

"You'll Never Walk Alone" is a song written by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II. Little did they know at that time (in 1945) that this song would live on in the hearts of Liverpool Football Club's (LFC) fans all over the world, and how it would touch the hearts of everyone by inspiring them with the simple but oh-so-meaningful lyrics. Because of the message of this song, it has apparently become a standard anthem in graduations in the United States and during World War II, the powerful lyrics gave solace to many who had lost family and friends in the war. This song was so popular that many artistes recorded their versions of it, including Frank Sinatra (1945), Patti LaBelle (1964) and Elvis Presley (1968).

The popularity of the song quickly drove it to become LFC's club anthem in the 1960s and was invariably sung before and after every football game. The words "YOU'LL NEVER WALK ALONE" feature in the club crest and outside the Shankly Gates at Anfield (LFC's stadium).

Here are the lyrics to "You'll Never Walk Alone". Perhaps someday, you may want to sing this to your own little babe and nurture him/her into our family tradition of supporting the Liverpool Football Club!

When you walk through a storm

Hold your head up high

And don't be afraid of the dark

At the end of the storm

There's a golden sky

And the sweet silver song of a lark

Walk on, through the rain

Walk on, through the rain

Though your dreams be tossed and blown

Walk on, walk on

With hope in your heart

And you'll never walk alone

You'll never walk alone

Walk on, walk on

With hope in your heart

And you'll never walk alone

You'll never walk alone.

Lullaby & Sweet Ditties

"The Lullaby is the spell whereby the mother attempts to transform herself back from an ogre to a saint" ~ James Fenton

My dearest E.,

Isn't that the funniest thing you've ever heard? James Fenton must've had a fierce mother- even so, capable of the most tender emotions when it came to bedtime. Whatever the case, I'm not an ogre, although when you grow up and become a teenager, I may be one to you. But remember that no matter what you may think of mothers becoming ogres, these ogres only want the best for you!

But I digress- what I really wanted to highlight was how much you love your bedtime lullabies. I think you love them most when I sing to you- and thank goodness that I can sing (I think!). I have a rather baby-ish singing voice, so perhaps that's why you inevitably nod off to La-La Land when I start singing quietly. These days, my repertoire of bedtime lullabies is slightly more diverse than what they used to be when you were younger. I interchange between "You'll never walk alone" (Lullaby Mix, as I call it); "Moon River" (Bedtime Reprise: I coined this!); "Precious One", a lullaby I made up, sung to the tune of "Edelweiss", and "Baby Baby", another lullaby that I made up sung to the tune of one of Noddy's songs from one of your favourite cartoons "The Adventures of Noddy". Sometimes, I sing to you Paula Abdul's "Goodnight my love" but I can't remember the lyrics of the second verse then, so I end up repeating the first verse and chorus all over.

Why do I choose these lullabies? "You'll never walk alone" because it's the Liverpool Football Club's anthem (and your father and I are avid Liverpool fans, or Liverpudlians, as we like to call ourselves!), and because it says what it says: you'll never walk alone; "Moon River" because I imagine your journey ahead to be like a river, full of winding surprises and of course, I'll follow you on that wonderful journey; "Precious One" because the lyrics speak of how you make beautiful things grow with your smile, like flowers, for example; and "Baby Baby" because the tune is cute and light-hearted.

Sometimes, though, you fall asleep in the car when we're driving home from your grandparents, because you've had a long day, playing with your grandparents, going for walks and drives, etc. When we're in the car, we play your favourite CD, Raimond Lap's "Baby Classics" comprising music by composers such as Beethoven and Mozart. And as you sit in my lap, clutching your little security blanket, I would feel your body soften and lean closer into my warmth, and you'd be fast asleep before I could say "Sleep".

Sleep tight, my little one. And the morrow will be ever more beautiful and awaiting your presence.

Fierce!

"He who defines duty for himself is his own master" ~ Dick Cheatham

My dearest E.,

You are growing at an astounding rate. I want to tell you, "Stop, take a breather!" but you race along the path of Growth, learning as you go along, leaving Love and Compassion in your wake, picking up Intelligence, Knowledge and Language along the way, cultivating Kindness while you stop to pick up a smooth, red-marbled pebble, feeding your Tantrums and Anger when you feel the need. As Tyra Banks would say: you're fierce. A fierce beauty coming out into her own, a little caterpillar struggling in the silky smoothness of its cocoon, raring to meet the Sunshine and say hello as a butterfly.

Fiercely independent, you want to do things for yourself, which pleases your father and I, of course. I want to laugh when I see you solemnly imitating me when I get ready for work in the morning. You pull on imaginary clothes, fluff your hair, apply face cream and deodorant, and then laugh out loud with a huge grin on your face. At meal-times, you insist on feeding yourself, you freeze up when I try to scoop a spoonful of food into your mouth, you turn and twist away from me and loudly reprimand me for trying to baby you. And when I give up and allow you to eat on your own, you smile contentedly, shoving noodles or rice down your mouth, showing me a thumbs-up sign. And you eat there, quietly and messily, food dribbling down your chin and bib. But we watch you with pride. Because you're steady and clever. Because you want to be independent. Because you want to grow up and be an adult.

Your father and I recently bought you a life-sized (as in life baby-sized) kitchen cabinet and cookery set, complete with a plastic stove, baking oven and microwave oven, plastic foods, little utensils, casseroles and dishes, a water tap and sink and a kitchen roll holder. You fuss over your new toy for hours on end, humming happily to yourself as you busy yourself with preparing a vegetable casserole or sniffing in glee when you open the plastic oven and the imaginary scent of a lightly roasted chicken waft through the doors. You wash your hands as you ready yourself to chop up little onions on the cute, little, pink chopping board. You serve me beautifully with a piece of blackberry pie on a purple plate, passing me a little fork, urging me to taste the fruits of your labour. Methinks you could be the next wonder chef, cooking up a storm in your kitchen, inviting friends over to cosy lunch and dinner parties.

I look at you with wonder all the time. I am afraid that if I turn away for a second, you will grow out of your current antics and present me with something new to wonder about. And although the prospect of something new is always amiable to me, I want to hold each moment that I have with you in perpetuity. Your father and I talk about you all the time, and we'd say, "Remember when E. was 3 months old and she would do this?" "E. loved to do that when she was a tiny baby, remember?" There is nothing, nothing in this world, that can replace the feelings of reminiscence when we think of your babyhood past. Sometimes, your father and I pinch each other, wondering if we're in a beautiful dream and we hope that this never ends. And then, when the pinching begins to hurt, we smile happily and say, "Oh yes, this is real", because we see you sleeping beside us in bed in angelic repose, and when I touch your forehead and give you a cool light kiss on your cheeks, I think again, "Yes, this is real, and you are mine".

This doesn't mean that I don't wish to cultivate the independence within you. I know so, how independent you are, how unafraid of the world you can be. You seem to say, "Bring it on, World!" when you insist on putting on your shoes by yourself, and walking outside into the garden, enjoying the light evening breeze and the after-rain scent still lingering in the air. You want to walk out onto the road, unabashed and unafraid- but you are clever, my little one. You know that your parents can guide you safely to your destination, so you hold our hands. And we walk along, the 3 of us, trudging up that quiet tar road, passing our neighbour's homes, broken only by the tiny sound of you meowing whenever you see a cat. Such dreamy solitude. I can never be happier.

I am happy for you, sweet E., happy that you are a brave child and coming out into your own. I know that you're going to be oh-so-fierce in this world and face all truth & beauty and devastation & problems in your own stride as and when they may come. But remember: no matter how independent and self-reliant you become, no matter how successful and powerful, no matter what age, no matter the distance between us, your beloved Mummy will always be here to baby you and return you to your days of yore in your moments of fear, weakness and unhappiness.

Because that is what Mummies do. They allow their children to grow and fly away, revelling in their own freedom and independence. But Mummies also remain, whether physically or in spirit, and wait for the little ones to return to them someday. And that is our cycle of life.

The funniest things

My dearest E.,

You do the funniest things. At 18 months, you're energetic, lively and too bubbly for words. You speak in a cutesy voice. Methinks you have taken after your mother's temperament. You are your mother's daughter. Imitate, improvise, create. Seek to entertain. That is what you do. So tell me, my sweet, how do you expect me to act when you...:-

Talk on my phone and step away from the room to take that "call"? Or call my friends listed in my phone memory?

Answer: Hope that you don't drop my phone, because it's almost brand new. Laugh because you act like your father, who steps away when he takes an important business call. Tell my friends, I'm sorry but my daughter accidentally called you. She loves making telephone calls.

Tear my kitchen apart and re-arrange our kitchenware and dining ware and in the process, break 2 of my prized money-can't-buy china bowls handed down from my own mother?

Answer: Clean up after you. Reprimand you a little. Give in to your creative whims and fancies. I don't want to stifle you.

Dangle your hand into the toilet bowl and scoop the water into your mouth?

Answer: Scream! Beat myself up for not watching you closely enough. Scrub your mouth with baby toothpaste. Stick my hanky-wrapped finger in to clean out your tongue. You kick and scream. You get angry with me for daring to put a finger into your mouth.

Tear off the velcro-like fasteners on your diapers, throw those diapers off and run around the house like a little tornado, stark naked?

Answer: Catch you if I can (I always can). Hope you don't pee on the floor. Fit you into another pair of diapers while you angrily throw incomprehensible words at me.

Dip your hands into my food and feed yourself?

Answer: Clean your hands. Get you your own plastic bowl and utensils. Make you sit down beside me to eat.

Throw a tantrum and upset a whole bowl of porridge all over my clean living room floor? Shout at me for daring to serve up porridge to you?

Answer: So you want filet mignon, little one? Dump you into your play pen. Scold you for throwing a tantrum. Ignore your little demands. Clean up the mess. Order McDonalds' chicken porridge for you because I'm just too tired to cook another meal all over again. You still get porridge. Listen to your mother, because Mummy knows best.

Say "Hi" or "Hey" to strangers in the street or the mall or when we're out?

Answer: Swell up with pride. I didn't have to teach you this, but you've learnt on your own. I have a clever daughter.

Mimic Bruce Lee's kung fu moves?

Answer: Laugh like crazy. Make you do it again and again and again.

Try to hit my face after I've dealt you with a little smack on your hand- for touching those forbidden things (electrical sockets, that bottle of calamine lotion and camphor oil, the cash in my wallet)?

Answer: Bring my voice an octave down to a stern rumbling growl. Hope you'll listen. You stare at me, determined not to cry although your mouth has downturned. Make you kiss me and make up. And hug you, to let you know that if I do get a little angry, or try to discipline you, it is only because I love you.

Reach out to kiss me on my mouth, oh-so-tenderly and gently, when we lie in bed together, ready to fall asleep after a long day?

Answer: Kiss you back, oh-so-tenderly and gently. And hug you for showing me that you love me too.

Dance like a ballerina, spinning around like a little top, arms held high over your head?

Answer: Dance like a ballerina, spinning around like a big top, arms held high over my head. And we both fall down in a heap together, laughing.

Grow up a little too quickly?
Answer: Deal with it. My little bird will fly away from her nest someday.

How can I tell you how funny you are? How can I let you know enough how much I love you? How can I make sure you turn out to be a lovely, generous and kind person?

I suppose we'll find out the next few decades or so, baby. Give me your hand then. Both you and I- let's take that journey on self-realisation, learning and making mistakes together.

You

My dearest E.,

I wrote an article on Helium, a knowledge-sharing website which pays you for articles written by you. I wrote about you. I've earned some extra pocket money from this. You.

"Having my daughter changed my life- completely. Suddenly, everything that was difficult to deal with in this world, all the problems that I had faced: they disintegrated when I looked into her eyes, my eyes....

My problems, financial, work, or otherwise, which were once central in my life, no longer glared at me from the lens of my social and familial responsibilities. Suddenly, I found the solutions to these problems because they seemed so small compared to the magnitude of joy I felt in having a child. I could face anything now!

I stopped becoming a workaholic: worked decent hours and never took my work home with me, mentally or otherwise. I could be free in those few hours I spent with my daughter when I left the office.

I grew even closer to my parents, who care for her during the day as I worked. Now that I have my own child, I appreciate even more acutely what they had done for me when I was growing up, how much love they had surrounded me with, to enable me to overspill that love to my daughter.

I fell in love with my husband all over again when he became a father. His love, his devotion, his everlasting patience with me and my daughter, reminded me again why I had married him in the first place. That he was the same man, and even more, that I had married 3 years ago.

That I would leave behind a beautiful, physical legacy after I was long gone from this world: a beautiful child who had my eyes, my hair and my temperament, and who would go on to have beautiful children of her own, with her eyes, her hair and her temperament.

That I was blessed by God to receive this fruit of Life, the enormity and wondrous tumult and happiness that is Motherhood.

I have grown up and matured, wiser with my age and experience. I am a better person, and I hope to become a great mother.

The air was fresher and lighter, filled with the promise of sweet surprises as each gust of airy breeze drifted past my daughter and I, sitting together in the park.

The flowers in my garden were more colourful, brighter and radiant than I have ever remembered them to be and spread their delicious scent to soften our dreams."

Falling down

"When I'm not afraid to fail, I won't. When I'm not afraid to fall down, falling down won't feel like failure. I have fallen down enough to get more comfortable with it, to know how productive it can be, how necessary it is to growth. Still, when I sense the ground beneath me giving way, I have to remind myself that it's ok if I falter. I have to remind myself that it's more than ok!" ~ Jan Denise

My dearest E.,

I suppose it had to come sooner or later. Last Saturday, you fell off the bed in my friend's house, your beloved Uncle Calvin who loves and nurtures you like his own. We'd been to his house many times, and you would always sleep peacefully like a little cherub in his soft comfy bed. That night was no different, and after you had gone to sleep, we proceeded to the living room to watch TV. We were frighteningly interrupted when we heard a monstrous loud thud and then your screams and cries filled the air. Rushing to his bedroom, we found you hanging halfway down the bed- thankfully, you didn't fall to the floor, but was hindered by the wide bed slats on the sides (a Japanese styled-bed it was). Unfortunately, you did hit your head on those slats.

Last night, you spent the night with your grandparents, who, this morning, informed me that you had refused to sleep and woke up crying several times in the night, suspectedly searching for me or your father. They had allowed you to run around the room to frolic- but alas! You had a little fall, and cut your lip and bruised your eye. You poor dear!

I blame myself incessantly for allowing this to happen to you. I cannot describe to you the guilt I felt simmering within me, imagining the "What ifs" and wishing that I had done better to protect you. Other parents offered me sympathetic advice, telling me a child falling down and hurting himself/herself would be inevitable, and was part and parcel of a normal childhood, and in fact, teaches both child and parents to become better people by nurturing their instincts for survival.

So, my dearest, although I find this hard to stomach, let us take this as a learning experience. And I promise that I will be more careful and alert in future to ensure that you do not hurt yourself in this manner anymore. However, I cannot protect you from the symbolic falling downs in your life to come, but I can offer you some advice in that area.

When you fall in life, whether from a relationship break-up or a difficult, testing job, remember that you should pick yourself up and carry on. Imagine falling into a deep pit. Claw and climb your way out if you must, and if you need help, never falter or hesitate to cry or ask for help. I, for one, will be there to take your hand and pull you up to safe ground, but you must cultivate that need to succeed, to rise once again and to never let deterrents in life bring you down.

I have fallen many times in life, my sweet. Sometimes, I was so depressed and thought myself a failure, that I could barely think of picking myself up. Most times, though, I did, because I felt that I was placed here for a universal purpose, together with all other human beings on our earth. And that if I did not pick myself up, I would then be a complete failure. I also had belief in my parents, who lent me their hands throughout. Remember that this is what parents do- this is what parents WANT to do. To make sure that you do not fail. And even if you do fail, that you will continue to persevere.

Failure is NOT falling down and facing your difficulties and crying or wallowing- failure is when you allow hope and faith to diminish in your heart, when you no longer wish to fight back, when you cannot bring yourself to pick up from where you left off, when you no longer wish or desire to succeed in what you do.

I know that you will not fail, though. And even if you do, you will rise like the phoenix to overcome your fears and that failure, and that makes you stronger, a hero. And even if you do, that is completely ok with me, because you will learn from that experience and become a more complete person.

You are my daughter. And you can do anything you set out to do, be anything you want to be. Because you have love, faith and hope as your guiding pillars of strength.

On personality

"It's beauty that captures your attention; personality that captures your heart" ~ Unknown author

My dearest E.,

How personable you are! You have that wonderful spark of divinity, that expression of your personality. I know that you will contribute so immensely in the lives of those who know you.

Hello, hi and hey! Kisses and hugs. You greet me everyday in this manner. You greet your godparents in this manner. You greet your loved ones like this. And that simply makes us all swell up with pride and happiness.

Friendly, undaunting and sociable, you draw no barriers to your friendship and love. You oblige all and asunder with smiles and handshakes. You comfort with your touch and gentility. You dream of an ideal world where you hope to make a positive change.

Treasure your personality, my dearest. It will serve you in good stead. And in the years to come, I cannot wait to see how much more your personality will blossom and steal the thunder from the skies, enveloping with a radiant brightness of such great magnitude, that even the Sun will bow to your smiles.