Bedtime stories

"Tell me another story,...please...please please please...." I plead as I tug on her sleeve just as she's falling asleep.

Fast forwarding a little more than a decade, little has changed. Ever the night owl, I'm still restless at night, whilst she's still as exhausted as ever after a day of chasing after us. I remember how she used to improvise on moral stories and tell me about friendship, sharing, experiences, her childhood, and occasionally twirl her influences into fantastic storylines just to throw me off track on my latest obsession.

When I was young, I loved lollipops (Which child doesn't??). I loved the way the multi coloured swirls formed intricate designs that mesmerized. I loved the packaging, ribbons, clear paper, colourful sticks and shapes, the thrill from holding a heavy, large, sugary concoction complete with its insurance of cavity inducement. And so she told me a bedtime story of how a little girl begged her mummy to get her the largest lollipop in the world. Thrilled to bits for the little girl, I hung on to every word, hoping that this was a hint that I too, would get the 'largest lollipop in the world' soon. But then much to my dismay, the story took a sorry twist when the little girl had to eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner for ONE WHOLE WEEK, because it was bad to waste food you see. Suffice to say, it's been 15 years since the last time I ever asked for a lollipop.

In all fairness, I think it's my turn to tell you a story today. I honestly can't remember what it was like the first time I opened my eyes to see the world around me, and so I shall share the very first time I actually saw. Hardly the angel growing up, I would lead Josh in rebellious strikes against the parents, allowing him to do the very things they forbade us both from doing, swimming in deep ends of the swimming pool for instance. And being utterly stubborn I would refuse to study and sit at the table sulking whilst she tried to teach me the names of colours and fruits.

Needless to say I did get my fair share of punishments. And so one night after being taught a 'lesson', I crawled into bed with all the resentment in my heart. I heard her creep into the room a little while later and feeling resentful, I ignored her and pretended to sleep. She probably forgot this, but as she drew the covers over me, I heard one whispered word in the darkness. Sorry. It was then that I saw the hurt she felt for punishing me was far more than the hurt I felt.

We always hear how much mothers sacrifice for their children and so I shall veer off the course of conventionality and share about the things my mother never sacrificed. My mother never sacrificed on :

• Spending quality time with us. She would get all kinds of arts and crafts books, tonnes of colour pencils and spend long lazy afternoons drawing and painting with us. I particularly remember her doing 'girly' stuff with me. Baking dough beads in the oven that we would later string into delicate necklaces.
• Her youth. How she takes a genuine interest in the things that we watched, ate or drink at various stages in our life. How she works to blend in with us and victor over the dreaded 'generation gap'.I sometimes wonder who's really older.
• Laughter. No one fills the house with more laughter than her. Sometimes she cracks us up without being intentionally funny which makes it ten times funnier.
• Food ! Oh, my mother is the most adventurous person when it comes to food. She would come home and go "I just read about this place in *inserts destination that miles away* ...let's go ! " Or barge into my room in the wee hours of the morning and trill " Wake up sleepyhead! I'm hungry let's make your dad go look for dim sum." Thanks to her, I have eaten things that most of you would cringe and turn an ashen grey at. Read : pig brains, fish eyes, 'suck' snails.
• Urging us on our dreams. Oh, how empowered we feel when mummy says "You can do it".
• Being cool. She blogs. She knows the latest on-dits in the celebrity world. She talks about all sorts of cool applications at the dinner table that I feebly nod my head at and pretend to know only to crawl, head bowed to consult my friend Google later. My mother has Twitter. Need I say more?

So, here's to 21 years of you being my strongest supporter and co conspirator in so many crimes! I dare not envision what the coming years are going to bring but looking forward to it nonetheless. Happy Mother's Day !!

P.s : You thought we forgot? Didn't you? Lunch today, is on the house.