Three years

When I boarded that BA flight bound for London exactly three years ago, I would never have imagined that in three years time I would be married, become a full-time working mother of a one-year-old and live permanently in the UK.

I still remember getting slightly annoyed when my girlfriends threw me a surprise goodbye party before I left Singapore in 2008. I didn’t want any farewells, mainly because with no guarantee of the possibility of a job and that our relationship would work out, I could very quickly have to head home.

Living so far away from home, from my family and friends, with no help and support on the caring of a small child is very difficult.

Whenever I tell people back home that R and I both work full-time and take turns to look after Lucien, their eyes widen with disbelief. “Do you have a maid?” No. “Do you put him in nursery?” No? “You have a babysitter?” No. “Do you have a cleaner?” No. Then they usually end with, “AREN’T YOU TIRED!?” And then I’ll pause for a bit, and think, “Am I tired?”. Hell yeah, but I think I’m used to it. At the end of the day, it’s all down to good prioritising and organising plus not sweating over the small stuff.

Still, there are times when I really feel I wish there is someone who can cover our backs. You know, so I can go to the dentist or get a haircut. So we can catch a movie. So I can enjoy a meal out without having to chase a toddler around.

When I arrived three years ago, I stepped into a house stripped bare of carpet exposing the bare wooden planks on the floor. Today that new carpet laid the week I moved in has dirty skid marks from the pram, has had all sorts of food dropped and dripped on it, is the soft surface that usually breaks Lucien’s clumsy falls.

Three years ago I left my family for the man I love, and three years later I have one extra man to love.

I’m feeling rather overcome with emotion today, and I think I have every right to be.

So please, excuse me…

Explore posts in the same categories: Family, Life

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