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Getting all sentimental now

Getting all sentimental now Milestones and growing up Nat Kao

Letter to my littlest #4

January 14, 2013

Dear Little Baby Honey Bun,

Your name means “God has given” and God has indeed given me so much joy and happiness every day with you. You’ve brought so much laughter to my life and I cannot help but to love you more and more with each passing day.

I remember months before you were conceived, I was looking at your older siblings and thinking to myself, “I can live with having two kids” because they were learning to be independent. Moving around and going out was becoming so much more convenient. But then I knew your father always felt that we must have you to complete our family. And so you came.

You’re distinctively different and unique as an indivdual. You’ve got your own ways of teasing us, giggling, babbling and being coy. And you’re ALWAYS so happy.

Happy Nat

You’re the first baby we’ve had that’s able to interact with everyone. You chase after Ben on all fours; you yank Becks’ hair and laugh whenever she goes “yeow!”; you press your forehead against mine and rub your cheeks on my face and chest to tell me you want me; and you yak with your father and signal for him to move around in signs only the two of you speak. Last week, you started to walk! I’ve not seen a wider grin on your face than when you toddled towards everyone at home, and you must be feeling on top of the world seeing how everyone at home was cheering crazily for you. It was as awesome a feeling it was for us as it was for you, baby love! You made us so proud to receive you with open arms as you took turns walking towards each one of us.

Thank you for completing the family, and for making me feel I’m the most blessed person in the world to have you in my life.

With all my affection, and more, and then some more,

Mama

Ben Kao Getting all sentimental now Love language Milestones and growing up

“Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you”

December 21, 2012

Maybe because he’s been to a couple of weddings and is beginning to understand the concept of a family. He’s seen and heard a few of our close friends exchange vows and knows a wedding takes place with someone you love and want to be with forever.

At bedtime tonight…

Ben: Mama, next time I’m going to marry you.

Me: You can’t, my dear. I’m married.

Ben: (tears welling up his eyes) But I want to be with you. I want to marry you.

Me: I’m married to Dada. That’s how you, Becks and Nat came about! So I’m so sorry, son, I can’t marry you.

Ben: (starting to cry) *sob*

Me: Someday, you’ll find someone whom you love, and who loves God and loves you. And you will marry her.

Ben: Then I’m not getting married.

He said that with such a tone of finality. Well, if he ever remembers this conversation thirty years later.

Today, I saw a little more through the eyes of my firstborn, the one who came and changed my world forever. He’s thinking ahead of himself, and wondering if we can still be as close and as tight as he grows older. And he’s made me the centre of his universe.

Ben at two years old

Ben at two years old

Getting all sentimental now

Thankful

December 12, 2012

These kids came, and rocked my world.

I am thankful for the laughter thats fills the house every day. I don’t think there’s been a day without it.

I am thankful for happy, healthy children. I don’t think a mother can wish for anything more.

I am thankful that the three of them love one another and play a lot together. They can’t do without one or the other, and they know it. Which makes their bond so strong and the three of them so close, and so tight.

I am thankful for the opportunity to love them and watch them grow. I don’t think words can ever express how beautiful they’ve made my life to be. It is truly beyond my wildest dreams.

Getting all sentimental now Milestones and growing up Nat Kao

Letter to my littlest #3

November 29, 2012

Dearest Nat,

You’re nine months old! You’re crawling, cruising, clapping and making all sorts of monosyllabic sounds. First you said “ma ma”, then you said “bah bah”, and then you started playing with your tongue and blowing saliva bubbles I think you forgot your “mamas” and “bahbahs’.

And boy, you must be wishing you can run and jump and move around! I bet you’re wishing to be as fast as Ben and Becks. Every time they disappear into the rooms, leaving you alone, you’d wail for them to come back. Sometimes you’d give up halfway crawling after them because they’re moving around too fast for you! I can see that longing in your eyes – how you wished you could take part in their little hide-and-seek game and ring-around-the-rosies prance-along. It won’t be long, little one – you’ll be chasing them in no time!

Till then, please take your time to grow up, will you?

With all my love and more,

Mama

Getting all sentimental now Milestones and growing up The Kao Kids

Life’s too short not to…

September 7, 2012
Life’s too short not to be running in the fields
And feeling the dew under the skin on your toes
 
Life’s too short not to be having a splashing good time
In the rain
 
Life’s too short not to be making a mess
And then some more
 
Life’s too short not to be blowing soap bubbles
In a tub full of suds in a room filled with laughter
 
Life’s too short not to be snuggling a minute more
Together on Mama and Papa’s bed
 
Life’s too short not to be twirling around
And dancing to another song
 
Someday, my love, you’ll grow up
And life’s too short to be wishing we’ve done more of these things with you
 
 
 
(Self) Examination Getting all sentimental now Milestones and growing up The Kao Kids

How motherhood has changed me

September 5, 2012

When Justina (http://makingmum.blogspot.fr/) invited moms from the SMB group to reflect and share how motherhood has changed us, I was hesitant to answer the call to contribute a guest post for her blog. I mean, motherhood has changed me in so many ways. There’s the lack of sleep, the ability to swallow food whole, and the power of holding everything in, if you know what I mean – from your own pee to the frustration of being driven up the wall the 95th time. And then there’s the I-became-a-more-efficient-and-competent-person kind of change. At least for me, I have bragging rights of being able to nurse an infant, sing lullabies to my toddlers and use my toes to scroll the iPad to read my e-magazine, all at the same time. Motherhood has helped me discover powers I never knew I had, such as the untapped potential of using my toes and elbows to perform many a circus act every day.

Nevertheless, I eventually decided to take up the challenge to do a little bit more reflecting. Three years as a mom is no mean feat. I know I have indeed changed. Perhaps this opportunity to reflect would help me discover what it means to be a mother and who I’ve become today, and to give me a clearer direction on how to soldier on this challenging journey.

And it did. Justina featured me in her blog today. You can read the entry here and join us as we celebrate a month of motherhood. You can also hop around her blog to read other posts by mothers whose lives have been radically changed by just being moms. [Thanks, Jus, for the opportunity].

This post is my most honest piece yet.

***

Before I became a mother, I was a prissy, stuck-up, pain in the ass. I had an attitude. I thought the world of myself and very little of others. I was driven, demanding, and a no-nonsense kind of person.

I did some things I was proud of: I wake-boarded; I scuba-dived. As an undergraduate, I worked at a prestigious lifestyle mag and interned at a dive magazine. My boss sent me to Australia to market his magazine at a dive symposium. I shook hands with cool people from the diving circle. When I got married, I went backpacking with the husband. We travelled to Italy, Vienna, Czech Republic and Hungary. We explored quaint towns, and stayed with the locals and at youth hostels. We made friends from all over the world over beer, coffee and goulash.

I’d like to think I was pretty accomplished before I had kids.

Today, I no longer dive, wakeboard or backpack. I bake. And cook. I change poopy diapers, clean mucous and sing lullabies. Along the motherhood journey, I’ve lost my cool, blown my top, terrified the galls out of them, complained, murmured, and done all of the above on a repeated basis. I’ve failed too many tests of endurance and the willingness to sacrifice. Along the way, I have also crushed them with some of the most horrid things I’ve ever said, and treated them way too impatiently, emotionally and unfairly. In short, of the three years of being mom, I’ve made quite a mess of the whole process.

But I’ve also watched, as the days go by, how my heart is slowly transformed by just being my children’s mother in the everyday. I’d like to think that having gone through three pregnancies, three deliveries and now, mothering three very different, but unique individuals, motherhood has changed me for the better. In the good and the bad of everyday parenting, my children have molded my heart and invited me to experience God in ways deeper than I’ve ever imagined.

Being a mother has taught me that it’s ok to make a mess. I’ve learned to admit my mistakes, deal with my guilt and move on; more quickly and steadily than before I was a mom. I learned that children can be very forgiving. And above all else, I’ve learned that God the Father extends his forgiveness and love ever more readily to me now. He stops me from beating myself up, takes me into His loving arms and tells me “Liz, it’s ok”.

Being a mother has taught me to draw parameters for my anger and to pursue love at all cost. To channel my emotional energy at the right places, for the right things and towards the right people. It’s impossible to be a parent without feeling a host of intense emotions, but it’s definitely possible to lean on His grace to handle the trickier ones. Best of all, God has shown me that as my Heavenly Father, He has pursued me with love at all cost. And as a mother, I have the best example to follow and model after.

Being a mother has taught me what really matters in life. All of a sudden, when you become a mother, you possess the amazing ability to differentiate between futility and priority. I began to realize that life is brief, and that there remains the absolute need to live for the now and to leave an influence and impact so great for my children for the future. So I learned to be more efficient to exchange for more time with them. I learned that character matters. Imparting values matters. Being a better me matters. Ben making funny sounds with his tongue does not. Becks kicking off her shoes in the car does not. The kids making a paper cut-out mess and flinging shreds and gravel from the fish tank into their baby brother’s cot does not. In the grander scheme of things, even though they may be annoying, it’s just futility to be sweating the small stuff.

And last of all, being a mother has taught me to see the beauty in the small things. Where once upon a time I was a way-too-busy-to-smell-the-roses kind of person, today, I’ll give anything to kiss my children’s little feet, stroke their hair and put my finger in their tiny hands. They’ve taught me to stop, take a deep breath, and listen to the ambient sounds: that little sigh, that gurgling chuckle, that inaudible whimper. I’ll put my nose close to Nat’s mouth just so I can take in the smell of his baby breath. I’ll whisper into Ben’s ear just to see him wriggle away, tickled and laughing. And I would peck Becks on her chubby cheek just to watch her break into a coy little grin. I learned that I am mother and I am not too busy to enjoy my children.

In motherhood, I’ve learned to lose my attitude. That attitude. I don’t think I’m so prissy and stuck-up anymore, although it’s really still a journey and I’m very much a piece of work-in-progress. But I wouldn’t change anything. Without my kids, I wouldn’t be who I am today; and I am happier to be me now than me then.

How has motherhood changed me? My children have cut me open. That has allowed God to do something to my heart. They’ve added a profound dimension to my life in which I will continue to discover as long as I am their mother.

Motherhood has made me a better person.

Getting all sentimental now

Letter to my littlest #02

July 17, 2012

Dear Nat,

You’re four months, coming to five now and you’ve been flipping with every chance you’ve got.

You’ve started to take some semi-solids and how you love your porridge! You’ve had close to fifteen days of green mucousy stools and Mama’s brought you to a few doctors the past two weeks. They told me not to take any more dairy products and to start you on some porridge. You love it so much you wave in excitement and shriek whenever you see the spoon. You savour every mouthful. It must be the next best thing to Mama’s milk.

You’re endearing and way too adorable. You hardly cry. You sleep through the night. You smile at everyone who smiles at you and melt their hearts. The clinic assistants and random people in the lifts have all been charmed. When you had a blistered bum, you handled it like a man. You’re one tough cookie. Your teachers in infantcare love you to bits and can’t get enough of you. You gurgle and beam all day and reserve your widest grin for me. You’ve laughed. You’ve sighed. You’ve squealed. For me, and with me.

You’re my happiest baby yet. Of all the three babies I’ve had, you’re the most responsive, most chuckly, and the most charming. You are such a dear. And you know what? I think I’m going to love you forever.

Affectionately yours,

Mama

Getting all sentimental now Milestones and growing up The Kao Kids

Simplicity

June 25, 2012

To my dear children,

The world you will be growing up in would be so much more perplexing and complicated. I pray you will make God your guiding light in every step of the way.

I had a childhood in a much simpler world.

When I was your age, the playgrounds I knew consisted of sand, granite fixtures, wooden splintered planks for see-saws and rusty merry-go-rounds.

The grandpa I knew grew a jackfruit tree so huge cats could sleep on its branches. The grandma I knew pierced my cousin’s ears with a hot blistering needle. I watched her kill rats with her wooden clogs. I watched him crack open jackfruits from his harvest.

I ate iced pops for ten cents and called my mother at a pay-phone with the same amount of money. My father had a pager louder than a siren.

I took school buses that did not have air conditioning and carried a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle school bag in purple. My favourite Ninja Turtle’s name was Leonardo. My sister’s was Michelangelo.

I listened to cassette tapes and made collections of my favourite songs by pressing the record button on a blank tape. I played handheld games that needed only four AA-sized batteries. I wrote to penpals, collected stamps and joined the Bookworm Club.

I ran around barefoot, ate dirt and chomped down curdled pig’s blood in my bowl of yong tau foo.

I threw coins in a wishing well and got a Boggle game set and a Charlie Brown metal pencil case for Christmas.

When my mother and father took pictures of me, we waited for almost a week before we could see them.

This was a picture taken almost three decades ago. No surprises here which one is your mother.

Someday, when you’re old enough to recall bits of your childhood, remember to write a letter back to Mama. I would like to hear what you thought your world was like.

 

Love always,

Mama

 

Getting all sentimental now

Letter to my littlest

June 6, 2012

To my precious Nathanael,

When you came, my capacity to love expanded.

I’m so in love with you.

I see your face and I remember that night when you came to me. That night when I first held you and cried and wondered if I could be a good mummy and give you my best even though it would seem daunting to have to juggle life with three children from henceforth.

And you made it all too easy for me. You were such a good baby. You latched well. You slept through the night when you were two months – four hours, six hours, then eight. You didn’t even fuss when you were ill. You allowed your siblings to prod you, shove you, tickle you and smother you with hugs and kisses, complete with mucus and all. Whenever they are near you, you’d just smile and look at them with your soulful little eyes, as if you can’t wait to join them. I could carry you in the Beco all day and do all sorts of things: hold their hands, feed them, run in the park and catch bubbles in the playground. I could go on lunch dates with your father. You would just sleep and let Mama spend good time with everyone. And when they are finally asleep everyday, when you have Mama all to yourself, you would hold my finger with your tiny hands, rub your face repeatedly on my chest and lay your head on my shoulder. It’s like your way of saying you’re glad I’m yours now for the rest of the night.

We have long conversations about our hopes and dreams for the future daily. Mama tells you you are made to conquer; that you’d be a mover and shaker of your generation; that you have a destiny. And most importantly, that you are mine and I love you and we are family forever.

I will miss everything about you when I return to work. I will miss your chatter and chuckles and our conversations. Already I am having separation anxiety, even before you go to daycare! Oh, how I wished the day would not come!

I’m getting all sentimental because, you, my littlest, are growing up way too fast for me to handle. But we will get through this together, I know we will.

With all my love, and then some more,

Your Mama