During my pregnancy in 2006, a mum from Flying Solo got in touch with me after finding out about my predicament.

She then sent an email to me and another soon-to-be-mum. That was how I got to know an amazing, impossibly sexy, intelligent, strong-willed, yet utterly delicate lady, whose EDD was probably the same as mine (obviously some day in March was quite a popular day for babies making).

I have perhaps introduced her in my older post Baby Fabes last year, when her 2nd son came into this world.

It has been almost 4 years, and no, I still have yet to meet the lady, whose Fifi’s is 4 days older than Minibean.

I still have yet to meet the lady who had exchanged late night stories about life and babies with me..

Someday, maybe. But I think we both might find it too awkward.. cos there is just some magic in those exchanges that might not be brought forth in real life.

We are both INFPs for a reason, laughs.

Here, I would like to share an article from Merlanih, which was printed on Singapore Child Magazine, which I would like to share with you guys

And she probably did so much more than I did, some things which are probably what I always wanted to do, but lack serious balls to do.

For that, I salute such an intriguing lady, and a thoroughly dedicated mum in a foreign land.

Perhaps all the stories I have heard took form as I read her article, cos it was one that touched me greatly, though simple grazing of the story might just come to a naught for most of you guys out there.

Mer, Fifi and Baby Fabes would be so proud of ya when they grow up.

Here’s her article:

From as far back as I can remember, I have always wanted children of my own.  Now wind the clock forwards by two decades or so, and I find myself on a little Caribbean island complete with two beautiful mixed race children.  A picturesque sight, I am often told by others to my glowing pride as I watch the elder, Fidel (three going on sixteen), frolicking on the beach, throwing rocks in a puddle, his brown locks catching the sun.  Yes, he is definitely evolving into a little boy (correction: “I a beeeg boy, Mama! Mama, don’t call me Fifi, my name is Fidel, F-I-D-E-L!”); poking his fingers into every crevice, fingernails blackened from his daily escapades, sweat matting down the hair on his temples.  And such a penchant for music too; the people here have a natural, uninhibited sense of rhythm and this cannot be displayed more clearly in him.  Put on the calypso and watch him swing to the beat in true Caribbean style.  And then Fabian (nine months going on three)!  Growing increasingly confident in his wheelie walker and who, I am certain, tries his absolute best to nip your toes off each time he whizzes by at speed.  The younger definitely learns quickly from the elder: he now raises an arm with his hand clenched into a fist, ready to give you a “bops” when he meets and greets.  Yes, children nourish the soul and fill your day with laughs (“black cows have black milk”) and life would be exceedingly dull without them.

What is life like in the Caribbean?  Everyone urges to know.  Yes, it is a picture perfect place under the sun, complete with colourful boats dotting the horizon and miles of pristine beaches.  No, as much as I fantasise about it, I unfortunately do not lie idle in a hammock all day, rum punch in one hand, novel in the other (In any case, it would be virtually impossible to stay in a state of placidity for long without Fidel trying to turn me out of the hammock)  And yes, work is work; I am busy trying to carve out a successful career as a barrister while trying to achieve the status of supermum and ace DIY-er at the same time.  So the moral of the story for me at least, is that life goes on wherever the set is located.  Pierce through the idyllic beauty, and there are bills to be paid, work to be done, meals to be cooked, just like anywhere else in the world.  Daily life is a hectic routine of trying to spend as much quality time with Fidel, keeping Fabian’s development in check, holding the reins over the management of the home, dedicating time to the other half and last but definitely not the least, trying to make sure that the much-needed “me-time” does not escape what little remains of the 24 hours of the day.

When night falls, the little ones have finally given up their valiant struggle against sleep, even their dad is crashed out on the bed, and the house is overcome by sudden calmness.  It is always at this point that I am filled with a sense of total, peaceful bliss.  Thank you God, another fruitful day we have spent together as a family.  Thank you for the strength to overcome all our challenges, and to help us to stay together as a unit.  It is so easy for relationships to fall apart if we are not careful, and I thank You for your continuing guidance to make tomorrow an even better day for all of us.

Since taking on the role of a mother, I have never ever been as busy in my life, stretched in so many different directions.  Life would no doubt have been simpler had I decided to relocate back to Singapore: the support network of family to help nurture my children; a live-in domestic helper and babysitter rolled into one who would keep house and relieve me from my household duties; better amenities to cater to my needs.  Would I then consider moving back in time for the children to be schooled in Singapore?  This is a decision which I have been pondering over, so many factors needing to be considered.  Ultimately I enjoy the relative tranquility and closeness to nature which the Caribbean offers, and I do believe that my children are benefitting from it.  Yes, there are concerns about the quality of education available.  But how does one define “education”?  Personally it boils down to providing my children with the exposure and knowledge of different aspects of life: literary and mathematical literacy, oral proficiency, an appreciation for nature, music and other cultures, the ability to differentiate between right from wrong…

I watch Fidel running on the beach after his dad, nimbly skipping over the waves as they come in while Fabian who is perched on my arm, tries to nosedive into the sand.  Yes, I think that I have made the right decision in staying put.  This is the place where I want my children to spend this present stage of their lives; free, being able to expand their inquisitive minds, feel the soil under their bare feet, watch the fowl nestle on the trees at sunset, and to express themselves without undue sanction.  Upon discovering my new role as a mother, I vowed that my children would be raised to become confident, well-read and properly-guided individuals with a strong sense of self identity.  These will be the guiding morals which will continue to govern every decision which I make as it relates to their welfare.

And no, this does not mean keeping my children away from Singapore and their Asian roots.  Fidel has been to Singapore several times and we plan to be back every year or so.  Yesterday in the car, the little (read “beeeg”) precious says to me, “Mama, I want to be like my fadder, my fadder big and strong.  Mama, I have two fadders.  One in Angheeela, one in Shingapoh.”  In response to my requests for clarification, he says, “I have two mans. Papa and Gong-gong!” He also speaks animatedly about his toy collection back home; “Mama, I have a beeeg dinosaur in Shingapoh.  You know?”  They might have Afro-Caribbean, Chinese, Irish and Portuguese blood coursing through their veins, but they most definitely hold their Singapore connection very closely to their hearts.

Now as my household continues their slumber, I flick on the Food Network Channel, sink into the sofa which is at last vacated by the significant other and turn to my expanding manicure collection with glee.  Which colour catcheth mine eyes this fair night?  Precious undisturbed minutes dedicated to some frivolous decision-making.  Finally, time for yours truly.