From Mum, with love.

I know, I haven't been blogging for AGES....but I cannot help but want to put this article written by my mum to me for my 25th birthday present. Reading through it really reminded me how much a mum's love for a child is really worth: priceless.

Remembering you on your 25th Birthday

Before my memory lapses as age advances, I think I better pen down all that I could remember of you so that you could relate them to your juniors, if there be any in future.

You cried the loudest of all the babies in the ward, thus were accorded ' the crying champion' by Dr Chew in the KL Chinese Maternity Hospital 25 years ago. Your cry continued after birth for it was around this time that your dad sank into the lowest ebb in his career and dark clouds shrouded the family and laughter had become a scarcity for some time.

For this reason, dad always has a soft spot for you in his heart. You did not get to play as many toys as your elder brother did. Even when situations and circumstances had changed for the better in the ensuing years, dad's guilty feeling towards you changed not.

You could win your dad's heart easily with your thoughtful acts and words. Once, your dad wanted to pay you for voluntarily washing his car but you told him matter-of-factly that it's unnecessary as 'what dad has also eventually will become mine."

Towards your siblings,though you were rather hard on your younger brother, there's this bond between you and 'koko'. that no one could sever. You would wait for him to come back from his primary school and open an umbrella to welcome him home.

Whatever koko did, you wanted to imitate even his Chinese caligraphy style. Wherever koko went, you wanted to follow. This sometimes got on koko's nerves and he would complain to me and asked you to go away.

Once Aunty Choo deliberately whispered into your ears 'a secret' but all she said were only these words, "Don't tell koko." When koko pestered you to tell him the 'secret' and you willingly , faithfully related the same words to him but this would only provoke koko to anger which your tender mind could not comprehend, "I am loyal to koko. I leaked out the 'secret' to him and why was he still unhappy with me?"

When koko held your little hands and walked across the zebra crossing to Como pre-school in Perth, I was watching closely from the balcony with baby Francis. Sometimes, during recess, I would go over to see how you had been doing. Many times, I saw you sitting alone in the school yard, peeking over the fence, trying to catch glimpses of koko who was playing with
his classmates.

Even when we moved to Gosnells later and enrolled you and koko in the Seaforth Primary School, koko was much agitated because you refused to play with your classmates and insisted
on trailing koko everywhere he went in the school. Once, koko's classmae, Marcus, invited koko to his birthday party in Como, I had to ask Marcus' parents for permission to allow you to tag along lest you felt hurt. It was only after a few months in the school that you were able to acclimatise and make your own circle of friends.

Remember that fierce piano teacher in Victory Park? She told me you were the first boy who was brave enough to play duet with her in front of all her students. You were eight then, yet you could display such accuracy in your note reading, scales and courage to play in public, what more, together with the fastidious teacher!

You were traumatized on our return to Malaysia. You refused to follow your dad to school as the Malay teacher spoke a different langauge. Your limited knowledge of written Mandarin also posed a set back. The encouragement of your Chen Moh Primary School classmates helped a great deal in your settling down in your new school. Though you encountered hiccups in your initial examinations, you managed to excel towards the end of your first year there. It was amazing how you scored 100 marks in your first Chinese Maths paper by applying what dad taught you: memorizing these words that meant 'minus' and 'plus' despite your failure in reading the questions.

There were moments in your younger days too that were worth laughing over like in an occasion when all the cousins came and you played 'hide & seek' with them, I took the trouble to lift you up and hide you in a big toy box under the staircase but you revealed your hiding place by pulling the string of a musical toy you found in the box.

On the way to your art class one day, the car driver in front of
ours was taking his time to manoeuvre his vehicle amidst the traffic that you sighed in Mandarin 'man tun tun' and wished that you could reach the art class earlier.

Then also was this joke during our tour to the Madam Tussaud Museum in Britain: while waiting outside, your eyes
were looking eagerly in every direction, looking for a lady wielding two swords who, of course, would never appear.

In your Upper Primary years, you incurred my wrath once when your friend's mother rang me up and asked me what I should do about your losing her son's new watch. I was in shock and fury as I wasn't aware of you borrowing your friend's expensive watch and losing it in the swimming pool. You didn't tell me anything, probably you were trying to save your pocket money to repay him before news got to my ears. My rage took over me and I pelted your calves with your school belt so hard that you wrote in your school diary that you learnt a lesson that day that you would never want to be vain and
covet people's luxury items again.

You were so enthusiastic about playing violin that you didn't mind practising it in the Millenium Park alone, braving the stares of all the passers-by. Though we do not have opportunities to hear your pieces anymore now that you are away, it's comforting to know that the passion to play music still lingers in you.

These are just some snippets of my memory of you in your growing years. They might not be the best gift and are not in proper chronological order. I may not be a perfect mother, am just a plain, ordinary mother, so plain and ordinary too is my gift to you.

Blessed birthday, son.