She Found Her Voice When the Time Was Right

Alycia, my eldest daughter, was an extremely shy and timid child from babyhood right through her high school years.

Even as a teenager, she was too shy to order food or ask for something at a restaurant. Whenever she was around people she didn't know well—especially strangers—she would become very quiet. She hardly spoke to her guitar teacher despite attending lessons regularly for years. Social gatherings were never her thing either, and she seldom attended parties throughout primary and secondary school.

If you had told me back then that one day she would become a social butterfly with a wide circle of friends, I probably would not have believed you.

But when Alycia started college, something remarkable happened.

She began her Foundation programme at Sunway College during the pandemic, so all her classes were conducted online. When physical classes finally resumed, she started spending time with her course mates. That was the beginning of a beautiful metamorphosis.

Slowly but surely, she emerged from her shell.

The quiet, timid girl transformed like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly. She gained confidence, became more comfortable interacting with others, and started building meaningful friendships. Before long, she had friends from every stage of her life—primary school, secondary school, tuition centres, Pre-University, university, and church.

Perhaps it was the college environment. Perhaps it was the people she met. Or perhaps she simply reached a stage in life when she was ready to spread her wings.

Today, Alycia is a confident, sociable young woman with a wonderful network of friends. The transformation has been nothing short of amazing.

Her journey taught me an important lesson: children develop at different rates.

If you have a child who is quiet, socially awkward, struggles with social skills, or even has selective mutism, don't lose hope. Not every child blossoms at the same time. Some flowers bloom early, while others take a little longer.

Given the right environment, the right people, and the right timing, they may surprise you one day. Growth often happens quietly and gradually, until suddenly you look back and realise how far they have come.

Sometimes, all they need is the space to grow into themselves—on their own terms and in their own time.

When "Good Enough" Is More Than Enough

 Cass used to suffer from monthly UTIs when she was a baby.

My gynecologist first detected a problem during my 16-week pregnancy scan. Her right kidney was dilated. Because of that finding, he arranged additional scans, 3D scans, and even an amniocentesis to investigate further.

When Cass was born, all her initial tests came back normal. There was no obvious obstruction in her urinary tract. We thought the worst was behind us.

We were wrong.

At just two months old, she had her first UTI. That marked the beginning of a long and exhausting journey that would span years. Endless tests, scans, hospital visits, and invasive procedures eventually confirmed that she had Grade 3 Vesicoureteral Reflux (Kidney Reflux), a condition where urine flows backward from the bladder toward the kidneys.

Almost every month, she suffered another UTI attack.

Those years were a nightmare. Every diaper change came with anxiety. I would sniff her dirty diapers constantly because a foul smell often meant bacteria were present in her urine. Before long, I had become an unwilling expert in urine cultures. I could recognize the names of different bacteria by heart, knew which antibiotics they were sensitive to, and spent countless hours reading medical journals, researching UTIs, and exploring natural remedies.

Yet despite all that effort, Cass still needed surgery at 13 months old to correct the reflux. And that surgery had complications, which led to another surgery.

The surgery helped, but it did not solve everything.

Even after more than a decade of follow-ups at HKL, numerous tests and invasive scans still could not clearly pinpoint the source of one remaining issue. We know there is still a problem somewhere, and our hope is to eventually identify and correct it so that Cass can live a completely normal life.

From my research online, I found out that D-Mannose is the best natural remedy to treat a UTI caused by E-Coli (not other bacteria, though). 17 years ago, D-Mannose was only available in the UK and I ordered this preventive/complimentary agent from England, which Cass took as a prophylactic measure until today.

Because of her condition, Cass is more susceptible to UTIs than most people. As a result, I became extremely protective of her.

When she was in Standard One, I was constantly at school. I made sure she drank enough water, went to the toilet regularly, and was doing well. I knew all her teachers and many of her friends. Even today, some of her primary school friends who later attended the same secondary school still recognize me. When I visited her school recently, several of them greeted me immediately.

I was that mother—the one who was always outside the classroom or sitting in the canteen, quietly keeping watch.

When Cass was 12, she suffered another UTI attack. Every time that happened, I would bring her to Dr. Eric, the pediatrician at Pantai Hospital Bangsar, the one doctor I trusted completely with her care since Cass was 2 months old. He understood her medical history and was always careful in selecting medications because he knew her kidneys were vulnerable. He never prescribed antibiotics carelessly.

Each serious UTI usually meant hospitalization, intravenous antibiotics, and a course of oral antibiotics afterwards.

Then came her SPM.

On the morning of her final paper in December last year, my phone rang at 5.30 a.m. I had already moved back to Ipoh.

The moment I heard her voice, my heart sank.

She was having another UTI attack.

I immediately told her to see a doctor and to hand the phone to me to speak with the doctor once she reached the clinic. I also told her something I truly meant:

"If you don't sit for the last paper, it's okay. Take care of your health first"

The final paper was Chinese, but her health mattered far more than any examination result.

Even if she received an F for the paper, I would have been completely at peace with it. UTIs are not something to take lightly, especially for someone with her medical history.

By God's grace, Cass managed to see the doctor, sit for her Chinese paper, and recover.

She didn't fail.

She scored a C+.

The only person who was unhappy with that result was Cass herself.

As for me?

I was delighted.

Her 7As were more than enough.

In truth, she has always been more than enough.

After everything she has endured since birth, academic results have never been the measure of her worth. As long as her health is stable, her kidneys are protected, and she is happy, that is all that truly matters to me.

That will always be enough. ❤️

Cass warded at Pantai Medical Centre for UTI (age 12) in 2020.

The Little Girl I Had to Learn to Let Go

Of my three daughters, I am closest to my youngest. Perhaps it is because of everything we have gone through together since the day she was born.

Because of her health issues, I was fiercely protective of her. I breastfed her until she was over three years old, and much of my life revolved around keeping her healthy. Back then, she suffered frequent urinary tract infections (UTIs), and my mission was simple: prevent another infection, protect her kidneys, and keep her safe from further damage.

As a result, she was sheltered and shielded far more than her sisters.

There were advantages to that, but there were drawbacks too.

When she reached puberty, she began to rebel. She wanted freedom. She wanted to do the things that "normal" girls could do without a worried mother hovering nearby. We clashed often. We travelled through some very rough terrain together as mother and daughter.

There were arguments. There were tears. There were moments neither of us is proud of. Yes, I hit her, and she pushed me back. There was even a period when we genuinely disliked each other. We seemed to be constantly at war.

But those difficult years are behind us now.

Today, we are back to being best friends again—no longer frenemies.

When she was younger, she used to call me her twin because we were so close. Eventually, I had to learn one of the hardest lessons of motherhood: letting go. I had to trust that I had done my best, pray for her safety and good health, and allow her to spread her wings and explore the world on her own terms.

Even now that we live apart, I still check in on her every day.

As I look back, some of my favourite memories are the little things.

We used to write sweet notes to each other. I would tuck handwritten messages into her lunch box. She would leave cute thank-you notes for the meals I cooked. Out of my three daughters, she was probably my biggest cheerleader in the kitchen. Every new recipe I made was enthusiastically sampled and reviewed by her with 5 stars.

When I was physically exhausted and mentally drained from juggling work, family, and caregiving, she would create little coupon booklets for me. They included free massages and discounted massages—her version of a professional loyalty programme 😅

And honestly, her massages were surprisingly good.

I was forever begging her to massage my aching shoulders, neck, and head. She would usually agree—provided I let her play with my phone afterwards -- 30 mins of massage = 30 mins of phone playing 😅. Looking back now, those simple bargains between mother and daughter feel priceless.

Raising three girls was not easy. There were days when I was overwhelmed, exhausted, sleep-deprived, and functioning like a zombie. At the time, I often wondered how I would survive it all.

Yet when I think back on those years today, what I remember most are not the sleepless nights or the worries.

I remember the notes.

I remember the laughter.

I remember the little massage coupons.

I remember the little girl who followed me everywhere.

Sometimes I miss my girls when they were younger. I miss those crazy, hectic, chaotic years more than I ever thought I would.

Funny how the days that felt the longest somehow become the memories we cherish the most. 

Free massage coupon booklets that Cass used to give me lol

Cass filing my feet

This was a regular scene at my work table - Cass sitting next to me, doing her homework.

Cass's school (KC2) organized this feet washing event to honor mothers on Mother's Day. She was about 10.

Cass helping me to hang the laundry after my surgery in 2017.

My reminder note to Cass for her to bring back her lunch box and utensil.

Lunch for Cass & Sherilyn every Wednesday when they stayed back for CoCo. I would drop off the food in school.

Cass's love note to me, when she was about 7.

The Best Investment I Ever Made: Raising a Reader

Cass, my youngest daughter, wasn't an early reader. She only started recognizing words at around age five. I still remember her teacher telling her to eat more eggs so her memory would improve and she could recognize words more easily.

Perhaps she simply hadn't found the right books yet.

Everything changed when I introduced her to the novels of Geronimo Stilton, Enid Blyton, and the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series. It was as though those books were the missing puzzle piece her brain had been waiting for.

Almost overnight, she became a bookworm.

Wherever we went, there was always a book in her hand—at restaurants, hawker centres, in the car, on trains, while shopping, and even at school. Her favourite place on earth was the bookstore, and to this day, it still ranks second only to the skating rink.

By the age of ten, she was reading thick novels filled with tiny print. I remember she bought a huge Harry Potter book at a Big Bad Wolf sale. The book looked intimidating—massive, thick, and packed with pages of tiny words. Friends joked that she looked like a little lawyer because she was always carrying a hefty novel around while wearing her glasses.

By twelve, she had already moved on to novels written for adults.

I invested heavily in books for Cass and her two sisters. The three of them loved reading, and looking back, it was one of the best investments I ever made. I didn't just buy them books—I helped them fall in love with reading.

Cass later went on to participate in numerous essay-writing competitions throughout secondary school. Then came her SPM year. At the very last minute, she decided to sit for English Literature, an optional subject that wasn't even taught to students in her stream.

Determined to make it work, she approached her English teacher for guidance and borrowed notes from her van mate, who was her senior. He generously passed all his notes to her.

Thankfully, she took the leap.

She scored an A+ in English Literature.

I couldn't have been prouder.

Today, Cass still reads physical books. She treasures every one of them and absolutely forbids me from selling her collection. Those shelves of well-loved books are more than just paper and ink—they are reminders of a lifelong love affair with reading that began with finding the right story at the right time.

And that, to me, is one of the greatest gifts a parent can give a child. 📚❤️

She even hijacked my Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother

A daily scene at the dining table - Cass's face was always hidden behind a book.

At the hair salon

In the train, otw to Ipoh

At a book store in Singapore

Her routine every day of her primary and high school life - enjoying her fruits and dessert after lunch, with a book in hand.

When “Can’t Focus” Turned Out to Be Something Beautiful

When my second daughter, Sherilyn, was younger, she was full of energy—almost like there was a motor inside her that never switched off. She couldn’t sit still for long, her attention in class wandered easily, and she talked non-stop. Even when she was sitting or walking, her hands were always moving, touching, fidgeting.

At that time, I honestly wondered if she might have ADHD or Dyslexia.

But everything changed when she was 11.

One day, she decided to bake a strawberry cake for her granny’s birthday—all on her own. No help, no supervision. Just her, in the kitchen, completely focused.

Fingers cut, wrong measurements, and a very messy kitchen later... a beautiful and delish cake surprised all of us.

And what came out of that oven… was amazing for an 11-year-old.

That moment stayed with me.

Because from that cake onward, something in her unfolded.

She started exploring baking—pies, tarts, cakes, entremets,—and then moved on to cooking proper meals too. Sushi, Japanese egg rolls, Korean dishes, Indian food, Italian, French… she just kept learning, tasting, experimenting. Self-taught, driven, curious.

We were all her happy guinea pigs at home, especially during the lockdowns from 2020 - 2022 when she cooked and baked the most.

She even picked up latte art on her own later, then went on to attend paid courses she saved up for herself.

During the pandemic, while online classes were happening, she was often in the kitchen instead—PC on loudspeaker, multitasking in her own world. Sitting still for lessons wasn’t easy for her, but focus showed up strongly in other places.

In her SPM year, I eventually had to arrange nearly RM2,000 per month worth of one-to-one tuition for the entire year for Add Math, Physics, Chemistry & Bio, because the disruptions from lockdown and schooling challenges affected her learning. But she pushed through and still surprised me with her results in the end.

Later in university, something else became clear—when she studied architecture, her focus was incredible. Her assignments, models, and designs were detailed, creative, and strong. That was when I began to understand her more deeply.

Maybe it wasn’t that she “couldn’t focus.”

Maybe it was that she couldn’t focus on things that didn’t speak to her heart.

Because when she cares about something—baking, cooking, latte art, dance (especially), architecture—she becomes completely absorbed, almost unstoppable.

And I’ve learned this: sometimes children who seem “restless” or “unfocused” are simply not yet placed in the right environment for their strengths to shine.

So if your child struggles in school or seems distracted, don’t rush to label them. Give them space. Let them explore different interests. Let them try, fail, and try again.

You might just discover that their “dim light” is actually waiting for the right spark to shine brilliantly one day.

Baking her first cake at age 11 for my mum's birthday.

Age 9 - back from after-school care centre and straight to the kitchen to help me cook

Baking her first beef pie at age 11 and it was absolutely delish.

Age 15, during the lockdowns - Sherilyn made this burger from scratch - the buns and the meat patties.

Age 9 - It all started with her always volunteering to help me cook scrambled eggs and stir-fried veggies. 

Age 15 - made butter chicken and cheese naan. She even made the cheese herself.

Age 15 - lemon tart with matcha. She even made the lemon curd herself and sold it during the pandemic.

Age 15, during the lockdowns - she made taro & sweet potato balls for our own bubble tea and tong sui.

I can't remember the name of this beef but it was coated with pistachio and very yummy.

Age 15 - Sherilyn baked this yummy banana walnut bread, which is my fav.

The Airport Scare Before Our Disneyland Dream

It was 6 December 2015 (10.5 yrs ago) — a day I will never forget.

We were at KLIA, just two hours away from boarding our flight to Hong Kong. The girls were excited, especially Cass, who was only seven years old and looking forward to visiting Disneyland.

Then, the moment we arrived at the airport, Cass complained of a terrible tummy ache. The pain was so intense that she had to squat down and couldn't walk.

My heart immediately sank.

Because of her history of recurring UTIs, which used to strike almost every month until her surgeries at 13 months old, all sorts of frightening thoughts ran through my mind. I was convinced that we would have to rush her to the hospital. I imagined Cass and I staying behind in Kuala Lumpur while her dad and two sisters flew on to Hong Kong without us.

Trying to stay calm, I quickly brought her to the toilet.

For the next half hour, I stood inside the cubicle with her anxiously, praying and hoping for the best.

Then finally... she did her business.

And just like that, the pain disappeared.

The relief was indescribable.

Cass emerged from the toilet smiling again, happy and pain-free. Her dream of going to Disneyland was back on track.

When we finally settled into our seats on the aircraft, we couldn't stop smiling. We felt so grateful and thanked God that the crisis had turned out to be nothing more than a very urgent need for a trip to the toilet!

The holiday went on as planned, and we had a wonderful time exploring Hong Kong — Disneyland, Ocean Park, Lamma Island, and many other places.

Looking back at this old photo today, I can still remember the fear, relief, and gratitude I felt that day.

Sometimes, the most memorable holidays begin with the biggest scares. ❤️

From Willing Models to Camera Dodgers

Back when my girls were younger, especially during their pre-teen years, they were my most willing models.

At that time, I was running an online store that sold everything from adult and children's clothing to toys and all sorts of goodies — almost like a mini Shopee before Lazada and Shopee even existed! I managed the business for 10 years while juggling my freelance content writing work.

Whenever new stocks of girls' dresses arrived, my daughters would happily model them for me. They loved dressing up, posing for photos, and being part of Mum's little business. Those were fun days.

Then they became teenagers.

Almost overnight, my enthusiastic little models turned into expert camera dodgers. The moment I whipped out my phone, they would disappear, turn away, cover their faces, or loudly protest, "Mum, no photos!"

And honestly, not much has changed even now.

My eldest will still occasionally allow me to take her photos. The other two? Not so much. Cass has a condition attached — I can post her photo only if I promise to cover her face with a sticker first! 😆

Sometimes I miss those days when they happily posed for me without complaints. And yes, I secretly wish they would enjoy taking photos with me again.

Well, perhaps one day they'll decide to humour their old mother and willingly pose for a few pictures. A mum can always hope. ❤️ 

Those Crazy Chinese School Years

Back when my three girls were in primary school, our dining table would be a complete mess during exam season—textbooks, past-year papers, my notes, their notes, stationery, calculators, snacks... everything piled together. It was a sure sign that exams were around the corner.

I would sit with them and revise Bahasa Malaysia and English. Before teaching them, I would first study their syllabus, Tatabahasa, grammar rules, and whatever else they needed to know. Then I would go through everything with them. I made sure they memorized their Tatabahasa, and along the way, my own Bahasa Malaysia improved tremendously too! 😄

Since all three attended a High Performance Chinese primary school, academic results were taken very seriously. Even though I didn't know Chinese, I tried my best to learn the basics from their Chinese tutor so I could at least ensure they revised what they needed to. Those years were not easy.

I wasn't the chill mum who was happy as long as her children scraped through. At the same time, I never demanded straight As. My main requirement was simple: pass Bahasa Malaysia and History, because these two subjects are compulsory passes for SPM.

Whenever exam season came around, I would get stressed too. As each daughter sat for her exams, I revised alongside her. With one of them, there was even a rotan sitting next to me! Back then, I firmly believed in the saying, "Spare the rod and spoil the child."

Looking back, I'm incredibly grateful that all three girls survived Chinese primary school. The eldest and youngest went on to thrive in Chinese Independent High Schools, while the middle one did well in a national secondary school. All three eventually sat for their SPM and achieved respectable results—not straight As, but results they could be proud of.

I would Google free downloadable past year exam papers for my girls, made sure they did those papers, marked them, and go through their mistakes with them. It was hard work.

Today, one has graduated from university and is working, the second has two more years of university to go, and the youngest will be heading to university soon.

Sometimes I look back and wonder how I survived those crazy school years myself. As a "yellow banana" who couldn't read Chinese, I somehow managed to juggle working from home, cooking, school runs, housework, revision sessions, and disciplining three growing girls.

While I no longer have to do any of those things, I miss them dearly now that we live apart. I try to message them every day, just to check in and hear about what's happening in their lives. Their updates always brighten my day.

Different seasons, different roles. That's motherhood.

But one thing has never changed: my love for them, and the fact that I will always worry about them, every single day.  

Exam season eye sore at the dining table.

Cassandra's weekly ting xie list when she was in pre-school (6yo), which I wrote each word in hanyu pinyin along with the meaning and tested her several times before the ting xie.

Treats for them during the exam season.