Dear Daughter,

Parenting & Musings

Dear Amazing M,

I’ve wanted to write an open letter to you for a while but something would get in the way, like German homework, housework or something like a whole month of being in a really shitty mood (I’m talkin’ to you, January).

Although I wish this letter will be full of warm cliches of you being the best thing that has happened to my life and other lovely things that nice and lovely mothers would say, I have to be honest. I am your mother and if I want to raise you to be an honest human being, I must model it.

Fear not, my beautiful child. You are the best thing that has happened to me, perhaps even more so than meeting and sharing my life with your beautiful father. But god is it harder than I have ever imagined motherhood would be. ¬†There are times I feel rapturous joy in looking at your sweet face while you sleep. There are also times I want to smack your bottom as hard as my upper body strength would allow. I would if I knew for sure that doing such a thing would result in complete subservience. Forever more. But I don’t know for sure (and logic tells me that eternal subservience from corporal punishment is not very realistic). I was smacked a lot as a kid. I don’t feel traumatised for it and I suppose it was standard Asian disciplining back in the day. But as a dear friend once told me, it’s not right for a big person to hit a little person.

I’m digressing.

There are times I crave solitude and sometimes I find myself fantasising about a life as a fearless nomad, travelling and collecting romantic adventures the world over.



But then there are times you hold me tight, telling me how much you love me and admonish me not to be sad when tears are streaming down my face from the sheer exhaustion of being a mother and recovering perfectionist. Those are the times I would not exchange my life for someone else’s.

Thank you for forgiving me for my flaws, for the times I’ve raised my voice to shame inducing levels, for the times I’ve cussed and acted in ways that are quite frankly toddler like. Please don’t banish me to the toddler room. I’m not sure I’d survive three hours in a room full of 15 two year olds.

The ease at which you forgive me encourages me to exercise more of my self compassion muscle. I’ve been working on that, you know. For my sake, your sake and for the sanity of your father, God bless him.

I’m done for now. A nice bowl of Ben and Jerry’s awaits as well as an evening of yoga, book reading and chucking out a few things.

I love you “all of it”, as you would say.

Your loving mother for eternity,


p.s. please sleep through the night, again. I’d highly appreciate it.


One thought on “Dear Daughter,

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