Happy Mothers' Day To Me

A Special Mother-Child Bond

Today is Mothers' Day.  It is my 19th Mothers' Day to be exact and the 43rd one for Mum.  

Mum has a very special relationship with me.  Whatever little arguments and differences we may have had occasionally, we actually have a very close relationship which I felt was based on a lot of selfless love balancing delicately with our individual characteristics.

Like my relationship with Mum, Joel also had a very special relationship with me.  I always thought I did well, and that Joel had grown up very sensible in spite of his younger years when he had to bear the brunt of the negativity when I was undergoing a divorce with his father.  We were both very close and we told each other everything, governing our relationship with a lot of openness and trust.

Then it hit me that he was all grown up as I had alluded in my last blog post  - I found myself going through  Pre-Empty Nester's syndrome, seeing Joel increasingly lesser at home.

Joel's Special Prezzie For Me

However, I do get reminded from time to time, how blessed I am to be a Mother.  Last night, I found a drawing of Joel, David and I, done by Joel when he was about 8 years old.  It was such a heart-warming drawing of our "not very normal but beautiful" family.  It brought back fond memories of days when Joel still "needed" me when he was younger.  Now that he was older, and I saw lesser of him at home, these memories became even more precious to me.

I was thrilled today when I woke up to a giant home-made Mothers' Day card on my dresser.  Joel was not very subtle as I spotted him clumsily fiddling with stickers, pens, and scrapbooking materials late last night.  I knew he was creating something for me and secretly I felt very pleased.  In the wee hours of the morning, I heard his heavy footsteps stumbling into my room.  He was trying to place his completed Mothers' Day card on my dresser without my knowing but of course I knew, and had to turn over to smile secretly to myself.

I read every word on that card this morning when I woke up, and it made be cry.  You see, I had "separation issues" when he was spending a lot of time with his girlfriend and less time with me.  I was quite possessive of his time with me.  I didn't quite minded his time at school, with his friends, on his hobbies, but time spent with his girlfriend often sent me into an insane frenzy.

However, when i read the words on that card, I felt I was now ready to let go because this was what it said, "I chose to put my efforts into my relationship with her.  She's done many things that have reminded me of my time with you."  

Ready To Let Go

My son is all grown up.  I am ready to let go now.  I should be happy, if he had found a girlfriend who shared his passions, his good times and his bad times, nurtured his personality and created fond memories with.  I had a lot of precious memories of times spent with past boyfriends.  Each one of them taught me something new, and developed my emotional resilience.  I became a better wife because of my past relationships.  

Being a mother meant that I had to also be ready to let go as he grew up to discover the world out there.  Discovering the world out there meant that I had to accept that he might trip and fall on his face from time to time.  I would not be there to help catch him when he did fall, but I could be there to pick him up, brush the dirt off his knees and send him off again to discover more new things.

So yes, I think I am ready to let him go now.


About the writer:

The writer of this blog post is a 43 year old mother of one, who spreads her time between her day job as a marketeer at a financial institution, her hobby as a certified professional tarot reader and numerologist, and her family which includes a 19 year old son.  She's married to a Scot who has been affectionately called "The Crazy AngMo" and prays that he does not find out that the term when translated, has labeled him as a "Ginger Head".

A Boy Lost

A Daughter For Life!

When I was a child, my parents were my world.    I grew up in fear that one day they would grow old, fly up into the clouds and become angels.  I want them to stay by my side, cook and clean for me, fetch me from school,  sit beside me as I practiced on my piano, buy new accessories for my doll’s house, and repair my baby dolly so that she can pee without my having to squeeze her little tummy.

As an adult, my parents are still my world.  I live in fear that one day they would grow old, fly up into the clouds and become angels.  I want them to stay by my side to cook my favorite food, be arbitrator when I fight with my son, walk the dogs when I am on vacation, feed the hubby when I travel on business ( or was it the other way around, walk the hubby and feed the dogs…can’t remember) and tell me stories about my younger days when I grew up in fear of their growing old, flying into the clouds and becoming angels.

Before I married David, I told him that he had to accept the notion that in my life, Joel was number 1, Mum and Dad were number 2, and he would be number 3 after the dogs in my list of priorities.  He was new to Singapore, a waif and stray, so he agreed and we got married.  He spent the last 14 years of our lives together, being there for Mum and Dad, fetching and sending and running errands for them, like a good son-in-law should.  It made me extremely happy when he did all that.

Mum had always told me before I had Joel, that if I had a son, I would actually be bringing up a man who would  one day  be taking care of another man’s daughter.  If I had a daughter, I would have a daughter for life who would love me forever, and would live in fear of my growing old, flying up into the sky and becoming an angel.

A Son For Life?

When Joel entered nursing school last year, he had put his heart and soul into the course after his initial misgivings about being “Gaylord Focker”.  David and I made every effort to ensure he stayed on track, encouraging him all the way, and appointed him our personal private nurse at home.  On days when I didn’t cut my finger while peeling an apple, he gladly volunteered to be the personal private nurse to our dogs.  They didn’t seem to mind the exercise of running around the house, away from his stethoscope and blood pressure monitor.

Not too fond of examinations, Joel struggled through the stress of burning the midnight oil during the nursing examinations.  He was not particularly fond of pharmaceuticals – frankly how difficult was  it to spell Aspirin?

So like a good mother, I made sure I stayed up with him, blogging into the night, like I am doing now, while he practiced how to spell the word Aspirin.  I even made tea for him, made late night sandwiches and prepared other snacks for him, made sure he was well fed and watered while he studied.  David even did the dog-walking and garbage-throwing duties during Joel’s examinations.

Our display of parental love and commitment surely must be exemplary.

And what did the boy do?

A Boy Lost

This afternoon, Joel texted me with this cursory note, “Passed Exams.”  I was ecstatic!  I told him how proud I was and how wonderful that his hard work paid off, and promised him a wonderful weekend of treats. 

Then as I was checking my FaceBook newsfeeds, I spotted Joel’s post on his status update. A proud declaration rung seemingly loudly across his FaceBook status “Passed all my modules for year 1, semester 2.  Got my girl to thank for pulling up my Human Bioscience grades…if it wasn’t for her constant nagging and dragging me out to study on weekends knowing that I’ll most probably be slacking away at home, I think I’ll be seeing myself re-sitting the year 1 exams again.  Bravo.”

Bravo indeed.  My own son forgot for that moment, how much effort, prayers, hope and sweat his Pops and Mum had put into ensuring his success.

We were gutted.

But We Are Still Here

Like a good mother, and like my mother before me, and her mother before her, I will still walk beside my child throughout his journey through life, unscathed by such lack of consideration for our commitment and love as parents.  Parental love is unconditional, I was told. However, from time to time, I wished he would tell me he lived in fear that I would grow old one day, fly up into the sky and become an angel.

About the writer:

The writer of this blog post is a 43 year old mother of one, who spreads her time between her day job as a marketeer at a financial institution, her hobby as a certified professional tarot reader and numerologist, and her family which includes a 19 year old son.  She's married to a Scot who has been affectionately called "The Crazy AngMo" and prays that he does not find out that the term when translated, has labeled him as a "Ginger Head".

A Child Taught Me To Count My Blessings

A Trip To The Hospital
  
My staff had arranged for our team to spend the morning at the children’s ward at a local hospital today, to celebrate the birthdays of 2 kids stricken with cancer.  We had brought with us colored paper, crayons, markers, colored pencils and other necessary paraphernalia needed to teach the children simple crafts like making Chinese New Year decorative lanterns and firecrackers. 

I was really excited about the opportunity to interact with the kids albeit slightly intimidated.  Up to now, in spite of my younger days as a volunteer at the charity homes for the elderly or mentally disadvantaged, I have never had the opportunity to interact with kids in this capacity.   Moreover, now that Joel is much older, I had forgotten how to interact with younger  kids apart from the fact that I had to shove my iphone in the hands of my colleague’s daughter one Saturday morning because I had forced the rather reluctant mother to be the “cover girl” at the photo shoot for my advertising campaign.  At that moment, I thanked the universe for giving us Barney the dinosaur on YouTube, and helping me to remember the lyrics to that Barney tune.  I’d never forget that weekend because I dreamt of Barney for 2 consecutive nights and was traumatized enough to stay at home, far away from the kids laughing and playing at the playground below my block of flats.

Touched By A Child

At the ward, I had the privilege to meet little V and her mum.  V is 14 months old and had never quite seen the outside of her home apart from the journey to and from the hospital for her cancer treatment.  V’s eyes were so big and bright, like limpid pools and her cheeks were so chubby you’d want to pinch them too.  She was so chatty as a child, and gesticulated animatedly when she wanted something.  Nothing about V betrayed the fact that she had cancer ravaging her little body and was subjected to painful treatments that no one outside of her family could ever imagine. 

While coloring a picture of Hello Kitty for V, I had a chance to speak to her mum who was such a strong and cheerful lady.  She spoke about V with pride, telling me how clever she was, what her favorite food was (chocolate), what her favorite fruit was (dragon fruit) and describing V’s mischievous antics.  I could sense a mother’s anguish and loneliness within her in spite of her broad smile and occasional laughter.  It suddenly dawned on me that as a volunteer, I was also holding the hand of this lonely mother who perhaps needed the comfort and listening ear of a friend.  It was not just all about the patient, V.  

Spending the morning with V and her mum was perhaps a little slap I needed to remind myself that I should be grateful for a healthy family.  With my attention constantly focused on work and other commitments, I had taken that for granted for far too long.   I suffered a breast cancer scare a few months ago, and while that experience was a hard kick in my shins to remind me to live life for the moment, that somehow didn’t last.  Shortly after, I was back to my old self of juggling multiple commitments, whilst barking at the husband and the boy for not pushing themselves harder to get more business, study harder, earn more, learn more and do more.  I was driving us to do everything more, apart from, to live more. 

I forgot to smell the roses again.

Learning To Count My Blessings

Meeting V was an absolute delight for me.  She was such a lively child and I was enamored by her giggles and her generally happy disposition.  How could a baby stricken with cancer, tormented by painful treatments and haunted by the prospect of a possibly limited future be so happy?

I am so grateful for the time spent with her.  She taught me to count my blessings.  Amongst them are my family, my friends, my team at work, my job which I love, my passion for Tarot, my clients…..I am so grateful for them.

Below is a photo of me with my looney team at the Children's ward at the National University Hospital. Thank you Children's Cancer Foundation for the opportunity we had to play with the children.
  
About the writer:

The writer of this blog post is a 43 year old mother of one, who spreads her time between her day job as a marketeer at a financial institution, her hobby as a certified professional tarot reader and numerologist, and her family which includes a 19 year old son.  She's married to a Scot who has been affectionately called "The Crazy AngMo" and prays that he does not find out that the term when translated, has labeled him as a "Ginger Head".