Letter to my mother…

Read the heart and not the letter for the pen cannot draw near the good intent

– Michelangelo

Dear Mother

Each time I start to pen my letter, my heart is filled with overwhelming emotions of regret, guilt and pain. What should a daughter write to her mother?

I should be thanking you for bringing me into this world and for raising me through the storm to be a strong individual equipped with the tools to bash my way through thorns and impenetrable hills. I thank you from the whole of my heart for the sleepless nights when we were ill and for doing everything in your power to provide decent meals in times of hunger and financial crisis. I must admit, we were not the easiest children to raise.

Mother, now your daughter is a mother too. Learning and trying her best to be just like you. But why do I feel judged in your eyes? Why do I feel as if anything I attempt for my child is never good enough for you?

Your grandchild is three years old now. It’s been 36 months since her birth. And not once you’ve looked at her with approving eyes. There is always something lacking. There is always something I should have done more. There is always something not good enough. Why do I try so hard to get you to smile with approving eyes, eyes that say “daughter, I’m happy that you are doing your best for your child”

36 months it has been and counting since I yearned to hear you say I am trying my best to be a good mother to my child. You have never once told me that my daughter is growing up well. Each time we visit, you inspect her and noticing the slightest bit of weight loss, you chide with a subtle accusing tone that I failed in someway to feed my child well. It does hurt a little.

Perhaps I have become more sensitive. Perhaps I might be reading too much. You’ve seen me struggle and yet you stayed away when I asked for help. Perhaps you thought I could manage. Perhaps you thought I was learning to be strong.

But all I want is for you to say “Daughter, you are doing your best to be a good mother.”

Mother I am not perfect. I have flaws that need reflecting upon. But I yearn for you to say those few words. Now I try to be hard on my daughter so I do not disappoint you with her upbringing. Am I doing the right thing? You won’t say perhaps because you want me to figure it out on my own.

Perhaps I should stop trying to impress and gain your approval. Perhaps I should try to do my best to be a mother to my child, who will someday write to me saying “dear mother, thank you for believing in me. That is all I ever wanted.”


Your eldest daughter

The eyes of Maldini

Walk with me as I wonder curiously towards the meaning of “mid-age crisis“. Let’s not get too affected by words here. Allowing the teacher in me to surface, lets break down (not define) the terms “mid-age crisis”. I can’t define what I can’t figure out.

Mid-age – let’s not go there. Let’s all just agree that age is a number. Perhaps I would start feeling the effects of age when my body starts aching and my muscles resist the climb of just 3 flights of stairs. Riiiight…. Now that is most probably not a mid-age problem. It’s just my body screaming that I am terribly unfit and I desperately need to head to the gym. Yes I shall just add that to my new year’s resolution for 2020 or perhaps for 2021. Age… I want to do so many things yet I have only 24 hours a day.

Crisis – It’s a crisis if you think it is. It’s a problem if you think it’s causing one. It’s a worry if you feel yourself brooding over it every night. How does something become a crisis? I don’t know… Is it because I’m awake at 1.30am in the morning trying to figure out if life is going as it should or I should be doing more to make it worth it?

I am no psychologist. I cannot speak for anyone.

But I just realised that I was falling… somehow I am so sure that I am not going to land with a spine breaking agony. Perhaps I feel something is going to cushion my fall. My fall towards long uninterrupted slumber.

As I lie in the comforts of duvets and pillows, hearing the rumbles (snores) from my dear husband by my side, I think back to younger days. Days when I was prancing around, soaking in the transition from teenage-hood to adulthood. How life has changed. How gawking and staring at guys brought absolute “peace” to our already stirring hearts. Oh please, we were only 19? or was it 18? I was not alone in this. I had a full battalion of girl pals who felt ogling and sometimes drooling was just part of growing up. Of course, we had to keep re-directing our attention back to our books. Some of us failed miserably. But still, I must say my adventures sort of stopped just at the ogling. I was too afraid to do anything else. *shrugs* I just needed my friends to pass me lots of tissue to wipe off the drools.

I remember watching soccer with my girl friends. Sitting up all night, watching a game so we understood what the boys were talking about. Don’t judge. We just wanted to feel included in conversations. And then we watched A.C. Milan. Who would have known… We (now i speak for all my girl friends) were watching just.one.person.

Paolo Maldini. *swoons*

When he walks into the field, you feel an Alpha male stalking his preys (opposing team), eyeing their every move, moving like the wind, faster than you can catch your next breathe. Watching how he claims his side of the field, standing his ground, and so no one can get through that wall. Very powerful. Very mesmerizing.

He was most probably in the prime of his career, being the captain the football club, some say he was one of the best defenders yet. What would I know… What would we, young girls know… We were just watching him and perhaps only him.

His eyes… Yes those eyes… What colour are they? Grey? Blue? A mix of both? How those eyes used to sing to our youth and cradle our dreams. Those were the days… younger days… We’ve only seen him on TV for interviews (which we tried not to miss). And watching him talk, the 6 of us girls, swoon and just stare. It was too rude to drool then. You can’t drool at Paolo Maldini. Gotta give him respect for that. You had to savour those eyes. Just let them drag you down into eternal abyss. Drowning us in our youth, eyes holding as we fall… crashing. Painfully sweet.

It is funny now that I reflect. How those eyes just toyed with our minds, gluing us to each game, watching and admiring his every move made. Enthralled by his dance. It was just youth.

I sit here now (still hearing the snores), I married my anchor, my husband, who stole my entire being with just his chestnut brown eyes, lifting and cushioning me from my fall in the abyss. I cannot define what I can’t figure out. But I know for sure, when I fall, he will pick me up from whichever crisis I land on.

Introducing… Pingu

Wait for it…

Have you ever looked at a YouTube show and just watched it in awe? Wondering how on earth your mouth curves up and you just burst into random giggles and laughter especially when you have no idea what the characters are talking about?

Don’t fret! My husband stumbled upon PINGU on YouTube and he insisted that we allow our daughter to watch one episode. I was the least bit willing because our daughter was currently queuing sesame street episodes for almost an hour.

Now is that too long a TV time for a 3 year old? Please I beg of you to not judge…

So I watched Pingu… And I must say…

I LOVED PINGU!!!!!!! Sarang hae

I was initially concerned about what a penguin and his parents were going to do for a 10 minute show. But oh boy was I amazed… For the record, Pingu is the elder son of a family of three. His parents have a younger baby nestling (chick), who is slowly introduced in later episodes. The episodes pride themselves as short mini films that broadcast the teaching of values such as tidying up your toys after playing with them (we call it housekeeping with our daughter), finishing dinner before playing with toys (includes finishing the vegetables and greens! plus cleanup), daddy-son work/play time. Mummy-son play time (with many many hugs). But what melted my heart was Pingu being an amazing and doting brother to his younger sibling. (am i using the right word here?). From changing diapers to baby sitting and bringing out the little nestling for walks… I just say WOW!

But of course… there’s bountiful humor, mess and chaos… they are kids afterall!

I would have expected mindless throwing of snowballs throughout the episodes and penguins chasing each other in the southern hemisphere. I am actually speechless now. More like struggling with words… I have always preferred my daughter watching a show in which she would be able to learn about values and there is no age too young for that. Although she is laughing hysterically while watching Pingu waddle with his family and friends, I try to sit with her to explain why he’s doing what he’s doing… And that too because… I don’t trust advertisements on YouTube…

Is it 100% worth it… I can’t say it for you. But please just perhaps try one episode to see if it appeals to you. It’s fun for all.

A full circle

Your holidays are here. It’s time to catch a break from the mundane life that you so badly want to put behind. You plan your days and weeks.

You want to do your hair, visit your hairstylist and perhaps sport a new color. Burgundy highlights perhaps?

Then you want to do a full body massage and facial. Relax and breathe. Head to your favourite quiet spot and meditate. Breathe and relax away the stress that you’ve carried for the semester.

Start writing your book. You’ve always wanted to do that…

Oh wait… that’s all a blur now… everything you’ve planned for fades away like sudden ripples.

You are stuck at home now. 24/7. Because your daughter spotted the most opportune time to catch the influenza.

While she cuddles next to you, you feel like crying and screaming because before you could realise, you’ve been home for 2 weeks and your holidays are almost over. Your daughter is still having a fever and your hair still remains undone and uncolored. Your book still remains untouched.

Life has a way to teasing us. Pray God that my daughter recovers. Soon. Her body is tired and fighting so hard everyday.


Searching for alternatives for natural healing

My husband is currently studying to be an aromatherapist. We’ve been around very supportive circle of friends who have been guiding us towards natural healing. We have, when desperate, sought medical intervention but we are trying to start off our natural healing process and boost our body’s natural immunity through alternatives means. We have added a new page ‘essentially yours’ to this blog to introduce the different oils we’ve been using for our family over the past 3 years. Most of our oil choices were experimented and tried with various diffusers and blends and we’ve finally shortlisted a few which have worked for us.

Please kindly note that essential oils must be used with great care. Excessive and incorrect use of any oil can have negative effects on the body which could worsen the symptoms. As such I am obligated to also highlight caution when using oils with infants and toddlers. Too much of anything will eventually amount to nothing.

Please refer to the page ‘essentially yours‘ for more information. All information was updated after rigorous research, sharing and recommendations from experienced parents and aromatherapists.

We will update the page regularly.

Photos courtesy of depositphotos


I had these aching thoughts running through my head just minutes ago… why do people feel the need to be noticed? Why do we expect people to acknowledge us? Do we expect society to see us, notice us and hear us? Would we be able to live if we were ignored, unheard and lost?

Are we programmed to expect attention? Do we succumb to societal pressures to impress and guide people to notice us?

A moment ago, I felt as if my voice was lost and my thoughts were unheard. I suddenly felt as if I would be standing in a room full of people and yet I’d just blend in with the wallpaper. I would disappear. But I don’t want to disappear. I want to be subtle yet seen.

I’ve had to live most part of my life with my thoughts locked away in silence because I didn’t think anyone would be ready to hear my voice. I chose to cocoon myself and do I regret it? Yes and no…

The desperate need to seek a listening ear. Desperate need to voice our thoughts. Do we seek the many social media platforms as an outlet for our emotional needs?

I’m writing and confessing my thoughts because I feel the need to voice them. And I know that they can go unheard.

Release the emotions like an overflowing barrel, let not the unexpected cloud your confessions.


I feel as if my life force was sucked out of my very being. I’m afraid I can’t elaborate further. Or let me just try…

I woke up this morning tired and extremely exhausted. It happens when your toddler is wide awake at 7am and running at 110%. I had to force myself out of bed, make her breakfast and forcefully nudge my brain to “mother” mode. I was on “zombie” mode the whole night perhaps.

I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I couldn’t talk much. I felt as if I was working too hard to breathe. Thankfully my husband was around to hold the fort. But of course my daughter had to get me involved in her games even though I was one with the sofa, trying hard to become a piece of the furniture.

I think I must have knocked out. Like an invisible punch to the soul and I was out! The next thing I remember is my daughter taping on my nose and saying “mommah shall we go out?”

And of course that meant me dragging my almost lifeless body out of the sofa and getting changed. Who cares what I was going to wear. I am too tired to care.

And so the day went by with lunch and swim class for my daughter and then dinner and now I’m lying in bed, staring at this post wondering how I survived… is it the weather? Does it have to do with bad diet?

The more I try to analyze, the more my brain says “STOP! STOP IT!! IT’S GETTING TOO NOISY IN HERE!!”