Happy 74th. If only.

Hey Dad

Tomorrow would have been your 74th birthday.

We'd probably have made arrangements for dinner, while the kids would have picked out your birthday cake and made you cards.

Unfortunately, we won't be doing any of these tomorrow. Or ever again.

Nobody would have thought that last year would be the last birthday we'd ever celebrate with you.

If only we knew.

Mum called earlier and she broke down. She was thinking of dinner with the kids tomorrow night but I've to attend an official school event and can't make it. She was disappointed. I think she wanted to be occupied so that she won't be missing your presence so very much.

But I intend to drop by Bright Hill Temple's Ancestral Hall after my morning lessons to visit you. Told Mum we could go for lunch instead before I head back to work. I'll call her later to confirm the arrangements.

Life for us goes on. We miss you, but we just have to march forward and put the pain aside. I have my kids and work to keep myself occupied, so it's much easier for me to solider on although I still do get emotional every once in a while.

I know it's unbearable for Mum but she is coping the best she can, and I'm proud of her efforts to keep positive. But I think you know her best, and how empty she actually feels.

Wherever you are, I hope you've settled in nicely. Do visit us whenever you can spare time from your busy schedule - of course I know you're tied up with many projects and engagements with old friends. You're not one to be twiddling your thumbs and watching clouds drift by. You were never the idler in life, so there's no way you'll be one in the afterlife.

Here's one for the memories, Dad.

Dad's 73rd (and final) Birthday celebration

Your loving daughter always
YC

42 Years. Minus Dad.

Today is Fathers' Day and coincidentally it falls on my birthday this year.

And it will be my first birthday in 42 years without Dad.

Sure, there were years Dad was away on business trips or on holidays with Mum, or I wasn't home during my birthdays. Back in 1991 when I was a Junior College student, I participated in the Pre University Seminar Singapore: The Next Lap and my birthday fell in the middle of that week long camp. I was residing at Sheares Hall, National University of Singapore, and I remember receiving a handwritten note during meal time to head over to the general office. Mum had called and asked them to relay a Happy Birthday message since they weren't able to spend my birthday with me.

Mobile phones and social media hadn't exploded on the scene in the 1990s and we relied heavily on old-school communication methods like snail mail and land-line telephones.

But this year, Dad won't even be physically present because we're no longer residing on the same realm.

Many countries around the world, including Singapore, set aside the third Sunday of June to honour Fathers. I did my own little research and discovered that the first ever Fathers' Day was celebrated on 19 June 1910. Since then, Fathers' Day has taken place on 19 June 16 times and if Dad was around, we'd have enjoyed a double celebration for the seventh time.

Fathers' Day usually takes a backseat in our household because Dad doesn't like to be fussed over. A card, simple meal and a token of appreciation would suffice. When the grandkids came along, the atmosphere livened up considerably. My super strict disciplinarian Dad transformed into a super doting Granddad and I couldn't believe he's the same man who'd insist I consume every edible morsel on my plate but waved his hands nonchalantly when my girls had leftovers on theirs - "Don't finish, never mind." 

Our last Fathers' Day meal was at The Mouth Restaurant, NEX. I'd brought along home-cooked porridge for Qi and I recall how Dad was amused by her antics at the dinner table because she was curious about our food. He had commented, "Very soon she'll be running around and joining her sisters." 

Little did we know that it would be our final Father's Day dinner with Dad.

Anyway, I'm in no mood to celebrate anything. Not when one of the duo responsible for my existence no longer exists. While I've never been close enough to Dad to openly pour out my woes and chat about frivolous matters, I think we do share an unspoken bond that's hard to describe. To me, he's a man of few words (because he speaks to me only when the need arises), and I'd get all nervous whenever we sit down for a heart-to-heart conversation. He'd always appeared cold, unfeeling, disapproving and stern, and I was accustomed to being chided for every little thing that angered him.

It's akin to being hauled up by the School Discipline Master and waiting to be admonished for something you've obviously done wrong but clueless about what that is. 

Despite our apparent lack of communication, Dad was always there when I needed advice for life-changing situations. And he always knew the right things to say that would make the most sense. Those were the times when his words would matter most.

While I've accepted his passing, the sense of loss can be overwhelming and I'm still prone to the occasional sob 'n' sniffle. Unlike my mum, aunts, daughters and even the hub, I hadn't dreamt of him since he left us in March. Initially I was rather upset. Why wasn't I able to see him in my dreams at all? Because he's still upset and disappointed in me after all these years?

I'd slowly begun to accept that maybe - just maybe - Dad really didn't think much of his only child, and that I was more an obligation, a responsibility to him. I don't think he'd ever told me or made me feel that he loved me.

Until early Friday morning when he appeared in my dreams.

I was walking towards an elevator and there he stood, with his back facing me. He was dressed in a collared short-sleeved shirt (dark blue?) and beige/cream pants. I called out "Hey Dad!".

He turned, spotted me, his eyes lit up and gave me a huge warm smile.

"Hel-lo!" Dad called out in his usual manner. I hugged him.

"How have you been, Dad?"

"Good, good!" he replied in his usual fashion.

"We miss you!"

And then I jolted out of bed. It was in the wee hours of Friday morning. I sat up for a while, unable to believe that Dad had (finally) appeared in my dreams. I took that as a positive sign, that he's happy where he is and he's acknowledged me. And for the rest of the day, I was glowing.

Dad and I exactly two decades ago as we celebrated my 22nd birthday

Yes, I may be in my 40s but I still feel like a child yearning for a parent's approval. In my mind, Dad's extremely difficult to please and we were at loggerheads (mostly during my teens) because I constantly believed he was disappointed with everything I did.

His brief appearance in my dreams couldn't have come at a better time. And it lessened the heartache a little.

He gave me an early surprise birthday present and that's definitely worth more than physical gifts.

Thanks Dad for remembering my birthday.

And thank you for being My Dad. Happy Fathers' Day.

Dad's demise: 12 weeks on

Two Friday evenings ago, I accompanied Mum to the NUSS Kent Ridge Guild House for the Chemistry Alumni Appreciation Dinner. I agreed as it's been two decades since my graduation and I haven't stepped foot on campus for ages.

Mum was invited to attend the dinner because she had made a donation in memory of Dad to help with the fund raising for Study Awards. (Prior to this, I never knew Dad studied Chemistry! Well, I knew he was a Science student at the Uni but that was about it.) Dad's former Chemistry tutor-turned good friend Dr Lawrence Chia often called Dad to help gather attendees for social/alumni functions. Dr Chia shared that Dad was able to effortlessly and single-handedly round up 100+ guests - such was his influence and network.

Chemistry Alumni Appreciation Dinner at NUSS Kent Ridge Guild House

We were seated at one of the VIP tables reserved for the donors and distinguished guests such as former department Heads and professors. I felt a little out-of-sorts as the room was filed with Chemistry undergraduates, alumni and faculty members. If Mum felt awkward, she didn't show any signs of it. I suppose years of accompanying Dad for his numerous business and social functions trained her well. As for me, I never liked crowds and very much prefer to mind my own business.

Hobnobbing isn't my specialty.

I'm "Ms Teo d/o Richard Teo" because Mum didn't give them my name in time for print

Midway through the dinner, Associate Professor Chin Wee Shong, one of the key fundraisers who also attended Dad's wake, asked us to receive a token of appreciation.  Mum declined to go on stage, so I took her place. Then A/P Chin announced "I would like to invite Ms Teo to receive the token of appreciation - in memory of her father - for the Teo Cher Aik, Richard Study Award."

Surreal to see Dad's name as a "Study Award"

Glassblown gift, hand-made by the Chemistry Department

As I got up to accept the gift from Professor Richard Wong, Head of the Chemistry Department, I was overwhelmed with a myriad of emotions. It was surreal. And it reminded me of Dad's absence. 

When I returned to my seat and the lady next to me, an active Chemistry alumnus who'd been chatting with us, said, "I'm sorry. I didn't know. So sorry for your loss."

Mum, who'd been stoic throughout the evening, crumbled and let out a muffled sob. The lump on my throat formed but I reminded myself that I'd to remain calm for Mum's sake. Mum excused herself to the washroom and I was left to answer questions about Dad's illness and situation. Turns out the lady also lost her first husband to Cancer and she was left to raise her three girls alone, with her youngest only ten years old at the time of his death.

At least Dad was around to get me through the key milestones in my life.

Mum realised that the lady shared mutual friends and in an effort to cheer herself up, Mum started chatting about these acquaintances. On our way home she started talking about the classmates she'd lost touch with.

I know it's not an easy period for her at all. Dad and Mum have been married 43 years and they're always together at work, on holidays, exercising etc. The house is filled with memories, and Dad's photographs are still there to remind her of their lifetime together.

If I'm finding it tough to cope with my grief, I can't begin to imagine how Mum's taking it.

As far as I can tell, Mum is putting up a brave front. But I know that's just a facade. It's a fate that we will have to experience one day. Certainly not looking forward to that.

Dad's demise: eight weeks on

It's been eight weeks.

Every time I think I've got my emotions in check, I'm proven wrong.

It's the simplest things that trigger off a tsunami of tears: photos, TV shows, sports, food, books and, of course songs.

Two weeks ago, I was at my second brother-in-law's home celebrating Mothers' Day with the hub's side of the family. BIL was channel surfing during a commercial break (the whole family was glued to the TV set, watching the overly dramatic Taiwanese saga about the intertwined fates of a biscuit-making family and their cronies) till the remote control settled on the Manchester United vs Leicester City match. I immediately turned my attention to the game and threw in several comments on the missed opportunities and lame foul attempts by some players. BIL looked visibility surprised and remarked, "Eh, I didn't know you watch football also?!" to which I replied, "Ya, I used to stay up late on Saturdays to catch the games with my Dad."

And that was it. Images of Dad and I watching football matches flashed before me. Dad's favourite team? Manchester United. (Although I'm not quite sure if Dad would have approved of the current players' horrendous display of sloppiness and terrible mismanagement of the team.)

I had to hold back tears as I didn't want to openly weep in front of the family.

Those weekend TV matches were our dad-daughter bonding moments. Although I don't play football, I appreciate the game and in truth I think I forced myself to understand it because I know Dad loved it. And I really just wanted to have something in common with him to talk about.

The other sport that we both love is tennis, and unlike football, I can actually wield a racquet decently and produce a pretty lethal forehand. Credit to Dad who introduced me to the game and paid for my tennis lessons.

The only sport Dad wanted me to take up but I flatly refused (and genuinely dislike) is golf. He forced me to accompany him to the driving range a few times and I reluctantly tagged along. He was disappointed, needless to say, that I wasn't enthusiastic about golf and after a while, he totally gave up. But he would still remind me - even when I was in my 20s and 30s - that I was silly never to embrace golf like him.

Dad's a natural at sports. He was a swimmer, athlete and golfer (lots of medals and trophies to prove it). He could play most racquet games and ball games too. I've seen him bowling and even playing darts and snooker/pool. And in his later years, he became a firm believer and practitioner of Qigong and Tai Chi.

A true sportsman in every sense. His favourite athletes were the ones who embodied the true spirit of sportsmanship, and he had great respect for those who accepted defeat graciously. And these were the same principles he applied to his business and personal life.

Sometimes I still can't believe that he's no longer with us. He's been such an inspiration and major influence in my life, and I wish I told him that much earlier. I did, however, reveal this to Dad hours before he passed on. Although he appeared to be in comatose stage and couldn't respond directly to me, his erratic heartbeat slowed down and stablised considerably after I made my peace with him. I believed he heard my heartfelt confession and pardoned me for all the times I angered/disappointed him.

I couldn't sleep a few nights ago, tossing and turning till I woke up at 4.00 am. Something was troubling me and I felt the sudden urge to rummage through old photo albums. After sorting out over 20 albums in my possession I realised, most regrettably, that I have no more than 20 photos taken together with Dad.

For two reasons.

Number one: 80% of the photos feature Mum as the star model and if I'm in it, I play the role of her visibly reluctant sidekick.

Number two: Mum's way better in front of the camera than she is behind it.

Proof that Mum's photo composition skills aren't impressive. It looks presentable here because I edited it!

Honestly, I'm no camerawhore and don't quite like being photographed (which explains why I hardly take selfies). Dad's quite camera shy too but he will pose with Mum when she insists.

I gathered a few photos from the albums and promised myself that I'll spend some time salvaging the old, discoloured, scratched ones over the next few months or so. Managed to touch one up today but my Photoshop skills are truly rusty, and I took way too long. Wasn't quite pleased with the results, but will have to set this personal project aside and get back to my kids now.

Dad, I'm going to undertake this photo restoration project - not just photos of us, but that of our whole family. Doing this as a gift to my girls as well, so that they'll have a glimpse to my growing years with you and Mum, and through these photos and stories, they'll learn how you inspired me to be who I am today.

Still missing you very much.

Dad's demise: three weeks on

Dad left us exactly three weeks ago.

We're still coming to terms with the emptiness but we plod on with our daily routine and busy ourselves so that we won't have time to notice his absence.

My aunts (his younger sisters) and two of my daughters (Xian and Wei) have dreamt of him. In their dreams, he's smiling, cheerful, feasting on his favourite foods, waving from the car, horseback riding etc. I haven't dreamt of Dad at all, but I do have dreams related to him even though he's not appeared in them. So yes, he's still in our hearts and minds.

I can't (and don't want to) retain images of him in his last few months when he was so severely weakened by treatments that his memory, mobility and speech were affected. I hated to see my father wither away, fighting a futile duel with Death, a battle no mortal has ever won.

No, I'm sure that's not how he wants us to remember him. And I believe that's why he pushed away friends, even some family members, because he didn't want others to witness his rapid degeneration. Many friends who attended the funeral wake expressed regret/anger that they didn't know the severity of his deteriorating condition, or that they came to know of it much too late. When some eventually did visit him, he was unresponsive and lost his will/ability to speak.

While we're sad he's left us, I choose to believe that he's in a better place. I bet he's enjoying his freedom now, exploring his new home, catching up with old friends, engaging in fiery debates with others over politics, playing golf, doing qigong/tai chi, enjoying his favourite dishes...and many other activities he loves.

Yesterday, as part of the "Ji Ling" ritual, we visited Kong Meng San Phor Kark See Monastery, the Columbarium where we placed Dad's remains. Knowing Dad, he's definitely appreciating the clean, green sprawling lands (about the size of 10 football fields) and unique architecture of Chinese and Southeast Asian influence.

We're all convinced this is undeniably the best final resting place for him. Have a great afterlife Dad!

Pagoda of 10,000 Buddhas

My Inspiring Dad

I read this poem as part of the eulogy I delivered at Mandai Crematorium on 19 March 2016, Saturday.

I tried my darnest to be composed, choking back only at the last few lines. Under the circumstances, I think I didn't fare that badly. My uncle caught part of it on film: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UNRDzsJVuec.

I just keep reminding myself Dad HATES tears and how, when I was younger, he would fly off his handle whenever I started to cry. I was always too emotional for my own good and that got me into a whole lot of trouble with Dad.

Well, that's past now. All the crying in the world can't bring him back. And he would be upset if he knows I've been quietly weeping under the blanket or in the shower when no-one else was around. 

Everyone tells me how Time will heal all wounds and I know eventually it will. But right now, my feelings are too raw and I've to look for my own coping mechanism to express my grief.

And writing about it is a start.

* * *

In Loving Memory of The First Man I’ve ever loved. Rest In Peace Dad.

Teo Cher Aik, Richard
15 July 1942 to 15 March 2016

My Inspiring Dad

The measure of a man is weighed not in gold
But by the richness of his heart
His generous deeds
His riveting stories told

As I listen to all that's shared about you
I'm very much ashamed to admit
There's so much I didn't know
And how so little I actually knew

Growing up I often watched from afar
Always in awe of your commanding presence
Your fiery conviction and passionate beliefs
Traits that define who you are

My rebellious years angered you constantly
You judged me rude, hopeless, incorrigible
I deemed you loveless, tyrannical, unreasonable
When ordered, I obeyed grudgingly

Your words always stung
When you grilled me for my actions
But that's when you'd let slip Life's crucial lessons
And onto them I've since steadfastly clung

Yet I remained stubborn, impertinent
Too eager to prove my worth
Too eager to challenge your views
Because I was juvenile, impatient

I only understood in later years
Why you did what you'd done
When adulthood and parenthood came my way
The wisdom in your words would ring in my ears

Perhaps I didn't turn out the way you hoped
– No fame, no glory, no big money for me
But one easily contended with simple blessings –
Making you worry endlessly about how I coped

Dad, I ask that you have some Faith in me
So don’t despair so quickly
Be rest assured that when darkness falls I'll follow the beacon of your guiding light
Your twin principles: Integrity and Humility

You're a man of your word; your name is your honour
A loyal true friend who puts others before self
A natural born leader whose Empathy and Magnanimity know no bounds
And truly there will never be another

You're the binding force that united strangers
Forging friendships that last through decades
Even when some abuse your Generosity and Trust
You shrugged your shoulders and continued to support others

I am humbled and honoured to have been your Daughter
And I owe you a debt of gratitude which I've yet to repay
Thank you for all you've done for me and the family
Indeed no one could have asked for a better Father

Today you embark on a new journey
To a tranquil place free from suffering, pain and woes
We shall meet again, Dad - no ifs, no buts
So I shan't say farewell for this parting is only temporary

We will all miss you dearly – that you must certainly know
And now there's such a huge void to fill in us all
As much as we dread this moment
We acknowledge it's time to let you go

Here's a final bow and salute to you
(Sir) Richard Teo Cher Aik
You'll remain entrenched in our hearts forever
Rest in Peace and remember always that we love you


Teo Yuan Ching
19 March 2016


Copyright © 2016 Teo Yuan Ching

Distractions

Six months ago, I wrote a blog post about motherhood.

And I stopped writing. Not because I didn't want to but because I wasn't allowed to.

You see, my dad's not been well (understatement) and mum made me promise that I wouldn't mention in on social media. She didn't want "the whole world" to know what happened and I have kept my word. No details.

But it's killing me slowly because writing's always been my coping mechanism. Taking away the one thing that keeps me sane is ripping me apart.

So I turned to playing Game of War and became obsessed with it simply because it kept me occupied so that I couldn't dwell on the emotional roller-coaster ride that I was forced to take. Ironically, this was a game the Hub introduced to me so that I would be his "farm" while he waged online wars with enemies.

So GOW is now my new evil. Not proud of it. But heck, anything to numb my senses and take me away from reality. FAR AWAY.

By the way, if you do download and play the game, I'm in Kingdom #8 Peisione. And my moniker is "Mrs Mootiger".

Mothers' Day 2015: My Thoughts

Chanced upon this little article and it got me thinking:

http://theweek.com/speedreads/453562/according-founder-all-celebrating-mothers-day-wrong

Yesterday was Mothers' Day. I told my girls in advance not to waste any money buying me little gifts like pretty beaded trinkets (which will inevitably collect dust because I won't wear them). And the only thing out-of-the ordinary over the weekend was to have dinner with my parents-in-law and my own parents together at a nondescript corner coffee-shop "zichar" stall in a quiet neighbourhood. Our simple version of Mother's Day "celebration".

But I welcome the handmade cards and heartfelt messages on them which, unfortunately, I haven't got the chance to read yet. Oh, I will do so when I can sit down quietly and savour every single word that my girls have written. I don't want to rush through and lose the special moment when the words deliver their impact.

These days, I'm flat-out of energy after 8-9 hours at my (secondary) day job and bracing myself for the remaining waking hours on my (primary) night job as Mum. And now, with Fourthborn (she who doesn't sleep and fights to take naps) thrown into the equation, I find myself being pulled apart in so many different directions I don't even know where to start.

#4is4toomany

Yes, I've said it so many times. I've definitely bitten off way more than I can chew. Not that I have a choice now. My girls are here to stay. But of course. I wouldn't want to have it any other way.

Honestly. How do other working mothers do it?

The obvious answer lies in careful scheduling to juggle my responsibilities. No sweat, right? It's just finding that sweet spot in the whole work-life-balance scheme that I haven't quite figured out yet.

HA.

I have stayed silent on this topic for far too long.

Lately I've been thinking about slowing down work. Perhaps it would have been a much clearer and easier decision if I hate what I'm doing but the awful truth is this: I LOVE MY JOB. So it's really quite a struggle for me because I truly want to be there for my own children. Yet I cherish my work identity and am not just about ready to trade that to be a full-time SAHM. Or opting for a part-time work arrangement.

At some point in my life, however, I would need to evaluate my options and stop being selfish. Sacrifices need to be made - it's just a matter of what I should give up.

For many of my peers who've readily traded Louboutins and Jimmy Choos for Birkenstocks and Havaianas, I salute you.

You've given up lustrous careers and economic independence in exchange for head chef / chauffeur / master teacher duties so that you can quality time spent with your lovely young' uns. You've evolved to become domestic goddesses and master craftswomen, super-duper mummies who run the household with great aplomb.

Just how do you all do it?

You tell me it wasn't easy at the start. And there were sleepless nights and trying moments when you wondered if things would work. You assured me that things will fall in place, eventually. And I would get used to the routines.

But how the hell do you do it?

Do I not love my children adequately? Is that why I'm emotionally torn? Because I'm starting to question if I love my job more than my kids. Or that my family is taking a backseat because I enjoy being in control of my own responsibilities at work knowing that in the home-front, I'm obviously not the one calling the shots? And do I really want to manage the household even if the power to do so is transferred to me?

I'm 41 this year and by now I know who I am and what I want.

And what I don't want.

1. I hate housework. I'm a lousy cleaner and I'm too much of a slob to keep my home clean and tidy. I can't sweep, mop, dust to save my soul.
2. I hate cooking. Just the mere thought of preparing meals for the family stresses me senseless. If I have to spend time in the kitchen, it's out of necessity. I find no joy in marinating, slicing, dicing, stewing, frying, sautéing, grilling etc.
3. I hate checking my children's homework. Yes, I *know* I'm suppose to but I think it's just giving them a license to blame me if I don't remind them to do their work, bring things to school etc. As a parent, I'm supposed to tell them what to do right? And if they make a mistake in their work I'm suppose to identify that and ask them to do corrections? No, I tell them flatly that they're responsible for their own learning and if they forget something, they bear the consequences. 
4. I hate "teaching" and "studying" for my children. No, I simply can't do it. I lose my temper far too quickly when they can't get the concepts right and again I don't really know how best to help them "revise" their work without wringing my own neck. And theirs. 

There, I've got it out. By my own admission, I've just outlined the main reasons why I can't bear to give up my day job to be a SAHM. I'm being frightfully open.

But does that make me a horrible mother? Some think so. They accuse me of being an irresponsible and lazy parent who pays others to do the job (e.g. tuition teachers) and that I don't care enough to ensure my kids are disciplined and diligent. In their eyes, I'm selfish because I'm not willing to make that big sacrifice.

Oh, yes, and that I spend too much money sending the girls for their dance classes (Xian, Wen & Wei), swimming lessons (Wen & Wei), art classes (Wen) and table-tennis coaching (Xian). I should cut down on these activities so that they will enough time to do their homework, study and do well in examinations.

What a terrible role model for my daughters.

Sigh. Old arguments that cause friction and unhappiness, eroding dangerously fragile relationships.

I can never do what my MIL does. She's an amazing example of the self-sacrificing SAHM who cooks, cleans, sews and runs the household with such mastery and clinical efficiency I hang my head in defeat. In other words, she's everything I'm not.

And since she lives with us, I'm reminded everyday of my inadequacy and faults. She's the reason why my fortunate girls enjoy sumptuous meals coupled with nutritious soups. And when they fall ill, I can be rest assured she's there to nurse them back to health with the right tonic soups and dishes.

During dinnertime, she will ensure that there's a dish for every member of the family. She knows our individual preferences and caters to our taste buds. Our refrigerator is stocked with food so we will never go hungry. She bakes cakes, pineapple tarts and other CNY goodies. She sews patchwork blankets, clothes, car mats etc.

How in the world can I top that?

I don't think my girls expect me to be like their paternal grandmother. They know full well I'm not docile and domesticated. And she's plugged the gaps of my missing Mummy-DNA so the girls don't "miss out".

Perhaps I'm not "born" to be a mother. I certainly don't possess certain "compulsory" traits to qualify me automatically for a SAHM post. That's equivalent to the CFO, COO and maybe even the CEO of an MNC. Hardly an easy job, and that's why I regard SAHMs with such high esteem.

So what's my definition of being a "good" mother?

One who's there for my kids - to support them emotionally, to encourage them when they're disheartened, to listen when they talk, to hold their hands in the dark till they can flip the switch, and then let go when their paths are lit.

To accept that they're searching for their own identities and will meet with failure along the way. And when they do fall or bump themselves, help them to stand up on their own two feet instead of carrying them for the rest of their journey.

Sounds idealistic, warm and oh-so-fuzzy? I suppose so. I've always been an emotional creature and to me, those are infinitely more important that providing monetary benefits and comforts. For me, the home is where the heart is.

I'm not the Perfect Mother and no matter what I do, I will never be perfect in everyone's eyes.

I just need to pass my children's test. They are the ones whose opinions matter.

I'd give myself a 4.5/10 for being a mum. It's still work-in-progress and I've had highs and many lows in this tumultuous journey. Maybe in 10 years' time, I will look back and chuckle at my frivolity and silliness, and how I'd wasted a full day ranting over nothing.

Maybe.

But for now, these issues are raw and unnerving, clawing at my conscience and keeping my head spinning, searching for clues to solve my issues.

Ask me in 10 years and hopefully I'd have made peace with my heart.

Qi's Little Steps

My fourthborn has hit one of the biggest milestones in her life – she can now walk!

For every parent, a child’s first steps are the most anticipated and momentous developmental process. Why? Perhaps it’s because walking signals the start of independence – a child’s ability to rely on his own feet, charting his own direction and taking control of his path.

I can’t pinpoint the exact dates my girls started to walk unaided and it’s a pity I didn’t think of documenting those special moments. Regrettably, I was too overconfident of remembering the details (and now my aging brain has failed me) though I can roughly recall the months they started to take those wobbly first steps: Xian (14 months), Wen (15 months), Wei (12 months) and now Qi (13 months).

With Qi, I managed to capture her attempts on the iPad – she walked about 5 steps, without assistance, on 4 April 2015. Exactly 13 months after she appeared in our lives. Weeks before, she’d showed signs that she was all ready and raring to go, taking 1 or 2 steps before faltering and getting up to try again. She’s quite the determined, cheeky, agile little monkey despite her tiny frame (she’s only in the 25^th percentile for her weight and almost 50^th percentile for her height) and we weren’t surprised she was cruising rather quickly.

Two Saturdays ago, we took the kids to the airport with the sole purpose of letting Qi “practise” her walking. The wide open spaces (usually the viewing gallery) are perfect for toddlers who need the “runway”. That’s where her older sisters headed to almost every other weekend while they were learning how to walk and run too. We selected a quiet, isolated spot at T3 and let loose our delighted fourthborn who was giggling and squealing with delight as she spirited up and down the alley. 

Here's proof of our exuberant toddler strutting her stuff, with her watchful "bodyguards" hovering by her side: 

And now, two weeks later, she's steadily dashing about wildly. And we're exhausted scrambling after her.

How fast the kids grow.

How I miss the baby days. ;'(

When colours matter

Last week I got a pedicure done and faced the usual dilema: which colour should I paint my toenails in?

It may seem like a frivolous matter totally unworthy of a blog entry but trust me when I say that the colours I pick will spark of a war. Literally.

You see, whenever I get a pedicure, my girls openly squabble over which colour I should choose - usually their favourite colours. Xian roots for purple, Wei chants "GREEN! GREEN! GREEN!" while Wen (who has decidedly outgrown pink) suggests blue, silver and turquoise.

Over the years I've tried out a variety of colours and usually settle for something "safe" i.e. shades of reds, purples, corals, nudes and browns. So last Monday I decided to take a gamble and picked a greenish shade.

The minute the colour was applied on my big toe, I regretted it. Instantly.

I could still change my mind there and then, but I decided to stick with it even though it looked arghfully bleh.

Why?

Because green is Wei's favourite colour and I felt that I "owed" her. And choosing green to "beautify" my twinkle toes was a way of "making it up" to her.

Admittedly, I've been pretty mean to my 6-year-old. Qi has "usurped" Wei's position as baby of the household and Wei's not been reacting well to the situation. While she loves her baby sister to bits, it's obvious that she's still trying to come to terms with how the dynamics of the family has changed. She "acts up" and does things to irritate everyone, just to get our attention.

For example, Wei will jump on the bed while Qi is peacefully lying down. The sudden jolts would shock Qi and she'd cry. That would get us mad and we'd yell at Wei for disturbing her baby sister. Or she'd holler, yell and laugh on purpose when the baby's sleeping. Once, Wei even pinched Qi's cheeks and the baby screamed her lungs out.

I try to control my temper whenever these incidents happen but with less than 6 hours of sleep (interrupted, no less) each day, you can well imagine how grumpy this weary fat cat is. And before I can pinch myself, this provoked tigress roars. No holds barred.

Being the thick-skinned and equally thick-headed child that she is, Wei would usually just shrug her shoulders and stomp off only to return 3 minutes later to either repeat her actions or try a different strategy to get some reaction from me.

It's already exhausting enough to second guess what the baby's trying to communicate. I really don't wish to deal with another kid's insecurities. But I know Wei needs to be reassured that she's still my little ragamuffin and I love her loads despite her constant attempts to push my buttons.

When she caught sight of the colour, she proudly announced to her sisters "Che Che! Mummy painted green you know! GREEN leh!"

Wen the silent observer made sure Wei was out of sight (and ear shot) before she commented, "You chose this to make Wei happy right, Mummy?"

"How did you know?" I asked.

Wen smiled and replied, "Because you don't like green, what! You're just doing this for her. Am I right Mummy?"

Sharp and intuitive, my secondborn. That one keeps her thoughts to herself most of the time but when she does attempt to communicate, she usually surprises me with her sensitivity and maturity.

So here I am with a coat of emerald polish on my toes. It's been exactly a week and I've grown accustomed to the green tips peaking from my slippers. I'll let them grow out and make another trip to the manicurist in a few weeks' time.

Best part? Wei's cut down on her crazy antics these past few days. She's still creating havoc, of course. That's never going to change and we certainly don't expect her to.

Isn't it amazing what a little colour can do?

Farewell Aunty Sow Lan

"The most important thing is to enjoy your life - to be happy - it's all that matters." - Audrey Hepburn.

We received heartbreaking news on Friday that mum's eldest sister had passed away. She died peacefully in her sleep. She was only 65.

Although we can't pinpoint the exact time/date of her passing, the autopsy suggests she could have left on 19 June - my birthday. I guess it was her way of telling me never to forget her. Ever.

It was shocking because my aunt's a health nut (she did zumba and yoga regularly) and was very conscious about her diet.

She'd recently returned from holidaying at Norway, Sweden and Denmark, and didn't have any health problems. Although my aunt never married, she loved my cousins and me very much, and she extended her love to our kids too.

A cheery, gentle soul with a heart of gold, she was full of life and filled her time with activities she loved. She even volunteered as a story teller at the library and enjoyed reading to the kids.

This photo was snapped on 30 September 2001, my wedding day. I'm extremely ashamed to say this is the only photo I can find taken with my late aunt Sow Lan. I'm sure I have a couple more, but they're usually together with other people.

The lovely Aunt Sow Lan and I

My girls made her a card which we placed in her coffin. Some light reading to entertain her while she makes her journey to her new home:

Farewell card from the Leonglets

I will miss her infectious laughter, her generosity, her positive approach towards life, her radiant smiles…

Aunty Sow Lan, may you be at peace and I hope we'll meet again when my time on this earth expires.

Imagine Dragons - Demons (Official)

My new favourite song.



Demons

When the days are cold
And the cards all fold
And the saints we see
Are all made of gold

When your dreams all fail
And the ones we hail
Are the worst of all
And the blood’s run stale

I wanna hide the truth
I wanna shelter you
But with the beast inside
There’s nowhere we can hide

No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come
This is my kingdom come

When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide
Don’t get too close
It’s dark inside
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

At the curtain’s call
It's the last of all
When the lights fade out
All the sinners crawl

So they dug your grave
And the masquerade
Will come calling out
At the mess you've made

Don't wanna let you down
But I am hell bound
Though this is all for you
Don't wanna hide the truth

No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come
This is my kingdom come

When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide
Don’t get too close
It’s dark inside
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

They say it's what you make
I say it's up to fate
It's woven in my soul
I need to let you go

Your eyes, they shine so bright
I wanna save that light
I can't escape this now
Unless you show me how

When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide
Don’t get too close
It’s dark inside
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

Valentine's Day 2014

I didn't realise this but the hub and I have been an item since 1995. That's *GASP* 19 years!

With the impending arrival of Number 4, his busy schedule and my reluctance to indulge in any additional expenses (having babies ain't cheap), we're probably going to keep things low-key.

Couplehood since 1995

Hubs, thanks for putting up with my nonsense, untidiness, inability to cook/clean/insert other household chores here ____________ etc. all these years and for accepting me as your life partner despite my many negative traits.

And here's to many more good years to come.

Happy Valentine's Day!

What Students Say

It's the final teaching week of the April semester and I hope my tenant co-operates fully by staying in her rental facilities until the lease is over.

The last thing I need is to go into labour right now when I still have classes going on!

Cutting it too close, I know. But such things can't be predicted.

Anyway, I received my teaching evaluation feedback and it's always interesting to read the students' comment about me. This was for my Film Theory & Criticism class:

Some positive ones:

• Ms Teo is clearly very passionate and knowledgeable about films, and thus, this influences the class and makes her lessons a joy to go for.
• She is very kind and approachable which makes people want to learn. People are not afraid to approach her to clarify doubts.
• She goes the extra mile for her students.

This one cracked me up because it implies that a pregnant lecturer is (perhaps) grumpier and less energetic:

• Ms YC has a lot of energy (even when she's pregnant, even when she looks tired) whenever she teaches us in lectures and tutorials, and it helps in my student learning. It makes you want to learn and listen to her. She provides feedback so her students know where to improve on the next time. She uses social media to give certain announcements (this helps so much as some students don't check olive!)

And some areas of improvement:

• Instructions could be more clearer on the required tasks for assignments. Provide examples of assignments. Example, provide an example of how a film journal is before giving students the task so that we have a clearer view on what is expected.

My instructions and suggested marking schemes are very DETAILED. And I do NOT give model answers/assignments because that's an easy way out. I know students too well. They will use the template and change the answers to fit their work. No effort whatsoever to do their own research. Sorry, I refuse to spoon-feed them. During my school days, there were no power point slides given to us. The lecturers didn't even use slides - they spoke and we scribbled notes. 

Besides, this is a film journal and everyone has to develop their own unique style/voice in their writing. And if they want really "samples", there are plenty of books in the library to refer to. Plus, there's always Google (even though that's not a recommend source).

• Joke around a bit! - sometimes she seem too serious in teaching.

Really? I never thought of myself as a serious lecturer! That's quite a revelation. Last time I checked, I was employed as an educator, not an entertainer.

• Pick nicer films to watch. (: no more black and white films pleeeassseeeeee.

This isn't a Film Appreciation class, darlings. Classical Black and White films are integral in Film history and I don't select films based on whether I think the students will "enjoy" them. I never liked 3/4 of the stuff I learnt in school either but it was part of the curriculum and I just roughed it out.

I select films based on the topics covered in the syllabus. I also make sure I introduce different genres and styles, and the films aren't confined to Hollywood productions. 

So yeah, as long as I'm teaching this subject, Citizen Kane and Seven Samurai will remain on my teaching list. 

Luckily I got to teach one of my favourite subjects this semester - it made my difficult pregnancy more bearable because time whizzes past when you're passionate about the content. And even though I was feeling utterly URGHSSSSS most of the time, the morning sickness, aches and pains miraculously vanished when I step into class.

Good thing I love my job.

At least the teaching bit.

The marking, not so.

And the piles of scripts are giving me the evil eye now so I'd better be off with my red pen in hand.

36 Weeks

I have taken an extended break - almost a year off - from writing.

Have I been lazy? Yes. Absolutely. And these days, with Twitter, Instagram and Facebook so easily available, providing status updates, airing grievances and spewing random rantings have never been more convenient.

But I do miss constructing my thoughts and structuring them into the written form.

Here's an update of my life so far: The two older girls are in primary school and bombarded daily with tonnes of homework. Like most working mothers, I *try* to help them with their work even though I regrettably admit I am not disciplined enough to supervise them closely. Honestly, after a full day at the office, how many working mums have the energy to be all smiles and perky? More often than not, I lose my cool far too easily when careless mistakes are committed. I hate it when I morph into an unreasonable and impatient being, my crescendo shrills reverberating around the house.

It's a dreaded routine: the minute I'm back home, I ask them if they've completed their homework and if they haven't, they'll have to sit down next to me to finish up while I'm having dinner.

Xian's now in Primary Six and she's a little more disciplined than before, so she usually gets her homework done before I'm home. Only trouble is that she's unwilling to do any extra revision on her own as she believes finishing her school work is sufficient. This is a crucial year for her and at the rate she's progressing, it's going to take a miracle for her to pass reasonably well to get back to St. Nicholas. And I'm not even talking about getting 4As or distinctions since she's unlikely to even sniff a single A and passing is a problem.

Wen's moved on to Primary Three and she's still got the cool-as-cucumber, nonchalant attitude towards school. She's unfazed by terrible grades and won't bat an eyelid even if she fares badly on tests. She'll just shrug her shoulders and give me that "I've done what I could. What else do you want from me?" look. It's absolutely frustrating because she's capable of doing WAY better but she chooses to put in minimal effort and switches on the cruise control mode. Needless to say, her grades aren't reflective of her potential academic ability - and this is precisely what gets my goat.

Wei's in her last year of pre-school and she's the only one who doesn't require constant nagging to do her homework. She's naturally competitive and when she sees her sisters being chided for not completing school work, she's quick to "disassociate" herself by providing "evidence" of work done. While the other two baulk at the thought of doing extra work, Wei would volunteer to complete the assessment books and even asks me to buy more when she's done. Unfortunately, she is still unable to read despite going for phonics classes. I'm hoping she's not dyslexic like Xian who only managed to read independently after attending classes at the Dyslexia Association of Singapore (DAS).

And then there's Number 4.

Yes, that's right. There's another one who's yet to make her appearance.

Neither Bonus nor Lost survived the first trimester and that experience completely broke my heart in 2012. It took me several months to pick myself up and move on, even though the pain never really subsided. Naturally, when I conceived last year, I was worried about losing this one too. So I decided not to jinx my pregnancy and kept mum about it. Even my relatives were unaware I was pregnant until last week when I visited them during Chinese New Year. And when they saw me waddling in - huge bloated belly and all - their spontaneous reaction was priceless.

The first question on their lips?

"Boy or girl?" (Since I already have three daughters, they were rooting for a boy, of course.)

Most of them were disappointed when I revealed that I'd be saving tonnes of money on clothes and that Number 4 will be going to her sisters' school.

Granted, the hub and I were also hoping for a son. Not because we're gender bias or supremely traditional, but we wanted to experience what it would be like parenting a boy. Obviously fate has other plans for us.  What we really hope for now is to be blessed with a normal, healthy baby child.

And no, we are NOT going to try for a boy. Four kids is already stretching our finances to the max. Plus I don't fancy going through this whole cycle again. There's a REAL difference when you're preggers in the 20s and 30s. I'm hitting 40 this year so my bio-clock is close to the expiry date.

I'm now 36 weeks into my fourth successful pregnancy. During my last check-up at the doc's, my little tenant weighed approximately 2.2kg and if she stays in there till full term, she's likely to tip the scales at 3kg and above. Here's a 3D scanned image of my Number 4 in utero:

Hello. I am Number 4.

And so the countdown begins. She's all snug and comfy in there but it's only a matter of weeks before she's booted out of my womb.

A new chapter awaits.

Kelly Clarkson - Stronger (What Doesn't Kill You)

I heard this song TWICE on the radio today.

Ok, I'm not a huge fan of Kelly Clarkson but I do love the catchy beat and (especially) meaningful lyrics of this hit. And so do my three girls! :)



Stronger (What Doesn't Kill You)

You know the bed feels warmer
Sleeping here alone
You know I dream in color
And do the things I want!

You think you've got the best of me
Think you've had enough the last laugh
Bet you think that everything good is gone
Think you left me broken down
Think that I'd come running back
Baby, you don't know me, 'cause you're dead wrong

Chorus:
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone
What doesn't kill you makes you fighter
Footsteps even lighter
Doesn't mean I'm over 'cause you're gone

Bridge:
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger
Just me, myself and I
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone

You heard that I was starting over with someone new
They told you I was moving on, over you
You didn't think that I'd come back
I'd come back swinging
You tried to break me, but you see

Chorus:
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone
What doesn't kill you makes you fighter
Footsteps even lighter
Doesn't mean I'm over 'cause you're gone

Bridge:
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger
Just me, myself and I
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone

Thanks to you I got a new thing started
Thanks to you I'm not the broken-hearted
Thanks to you I'm finally thinking 'bout me
You know in the end the day you left is just my beginning
In the end

If. Perhaps. Maybe.

I was scrolling through the pinboards on Pintrest and I chanced upon this:

And it got me thinking about the "hits" and "misses" in my life, how I'd met people at  various stages and how  my life as I know it could have taken an alternative route and how things would have turned out completely different.

We know not what the future holds, and all the best laid plans in the world can never guarantee success, especially in relationships. 

Sure, they were numerous occasions when I wondered if I'd made the right decision and there's no denying that in moments of frustrations I wished I'd walked another path. 

And then those thoughts disappear in a puff.

Simply because I think it's silly to dwell on the past and if things are going to get any better, I've to stop moping and grumbling, and just do something positive to make it all better.

Happy 11th Birthday Xian!

Motherhood's been an interesting journey so far with many heartbreaking, heart-stopping, heartwarming moments.

And it all began for me 11 years ago this day.

Your first experience of anything is always memorable, whether it was pleasant or otherwise. Being a mother for the first time was no different, and I was overwhelmed with trepidation.

I was absolutely clueless about childbirth despite reading up intensively on the subject matter. No matter how prepared you THINK you are, you're never quite ready to take full responsibility for another life.

But I'm thankful my firstborn is such a sweetheart and made my foray into parenthood a relatively smooth sailing one, at least for the first few years.

She may not be academically brilliant, but she's a sensitive soul with a great big heart, and that's worth more than distinctions, academic awards and perfect grades.

Thank you so very much for enriching our lives, Xian! Happy Birthday!

How NOT to be a Perfect Mum

This Sunday is Mothers' Day. Needless to say, retail outlets and restaurants all over will be celebrating to the lovely "ka-chings" of cash registers.

Mothers everywhere will receive cards, flowers, cakes, chocolates, presents etc.

I know the kids have gotten me something and they're waiting to spring their "surprise".

Upon reflection I've realised, to my horror, that I've failed the passing grade as a Mother and don't deserve anything from them.

A few people I know will stare at me in disbelief and chide me for being ridiculous.

"You're a great mum! You love your kids!"
"Don't be silly! You've done so much for your girls!"
"Why are you being so hard on yourself? Nobody's perfect!"
"Your kids are lucky to have such an understanding mum like you!"

But I know better than anyone else that I've not given my best, and I'm not like many self-less mothers who give up their jobs and careers for the sake of their families.

I'm a terrible role model and lack the discipline to guide them in their school work. I can't cook nutritious, wholesome Chinese meals and if I didn't have a helper, my family would be living in a dumpster because I am a disorganised mess myself.

Simply put, I've given up trying to be the classic text-book grade 'A' mother. It's way too difficult and I'm ashamed that I'm admitting defeat.

But I am exhausted. I've to juggle work and family and I'm not coping at all. I'm not thinking straight, made stupid decisions and have allowed others to get the better of me.

My kids aren't performing well at school and I'm not spending enough time ensuring that they finish their homework. When they misplace their belongings, accidentally pack their classmates' books in their bags without realising it till MUCH later (causing unnecessary grief to their friends), forget to do/submit their work, lag behind their peers etc., fingers point at me for not providing the right guidance and motivation.

Yes, of course. I'm their mother. I am solely responsible for their actions and wrongdoings, and I should be lectured for failing to bring up perfect kids.

Everybody wants the girls to do well in school. And I'm reminded that I should check their work and ensure that they study and revise their work conscientiously.

But what do I do instead of being a good mum and doing the right thing?

I pop in "The Hobbit" DVD and encourage them to watch the movie with me. I've also loaded the movie into my iPad and they'd tap on the screen to select their favourite scenes.

I sign them up for educational enrichment classes/tuition instead of personally drilling them in their school work. Despite being an educator, I don't have the patience to teach my own children. Irony, eh?

I chauffeur them to art/ballet/dance classes and encourage them to have fun while at it. All three girls started with music and piano lessons but when they expressed their disinterest, I pulled them out. Why? Because I place the "fun" value above others and I want them to enjoy themselves.

Who wouldn't want their offspring to be perfect, obedient children who will thrive in school, excel in sports or/and the arts?

If I've to drop all my other commitments to become a full-time homemaker to care for the kids, I honestly doubt I'll survive a year without going mental.

It's reached a point where I can't be trusted with the responsibility of being a care-giver. Without "support" I'm incapable of bringing up my children because I haven't "grown up" myself. And at the wise old ages of 11, 8 and 5 this year, my girls don't view me as a typical mum because I'm not considered their primary care-giver.

Does this rankle me? Obviously. Unfortunately, this is the end result caused by my own actions so there's no-one to blame but myself.

The hub constantly reminds me that I shouldn't grumble and I should "do something about it". Easy for someone who's been brought up in military fashion to shout commands and expect results. It worked for him and his brothers. That's why they all turned out they way they are: filial, obedient, successful in their own right.

Times have changed. Parenting styles have also evolved and methods of the past won't work as well as they did. I'm not advocating that we spare the rod and spoil the child, but in this century, empathy and understanding have to be factored into the equation. At least, that's my personal belief.

Yet, as a person who's constantly guided by the heart, I'm beginning to question the wisdom of being too empathetic. I often make decisions based on how I feel which is never a good thing and there's not a practical bone in me to derail that emotional train of thought. And that has resulted in countless situations where I've been taken advantage of. As my mentor/colleague puts it : "You will take on the world's burdens if you have to!"

Funny, that was exactly what I've been chiding my hub about without realising I'm suffering from the same problem. Only difference is that he uses his brain to solve issues. I don't seem to have one. Either that, or I've misplaced it.

There seems to be no easy solution and despite my countless readings on parenting skills, I'm disappointed with my efforts. The scariest thing is that I know what I should do but I can't bring myself to give up my life to enrich my children's. I feel sorry for them that their mum's such a meanie but I'm too selfish and set in my ways to make the sacrifices for my girls.

Such atrocity. Mothers are supposed to be sacrificial, aren't they?

And now I am paying my dues for my decisions.

The Script - Nothing

It's been exactly a week since I attended The Script's concert at the Singapore Indoor Stadium.

And. I'm *still* on a high. Wooooo-hoooooooooooooooooooo!

They're fabulous performers and I'll definitely watch them again if/when they come back to Singapore.

Here's my favourite song from their second album Science and Faith.

Nothing

Am I better off dead
Am I better off a quitter
They say I'm better off now
Then I ever was with her
As they take me to my local down the street
I'm smiling but I'm dying trying not to drag my feet
They say a few drinks will help me to forget her
But after one too many I know that I'm never
Only they can't see where this is gonna end
But they all think I'm crazy but to me it's perfect sense

[Chorus]
And my mates are all there trying to calm me down
'Cause I'm shouting your name all over town
I'm swearing if I go there now
I can change her mind turn it all around

I know that I'm drunk but I'll say the words,
And she'll listen this time even though they're slurred,
So I dialed her number and confessed to her,
I'm still in love but all I heard was nothing (nothing, nothing...)

So I stumble there, along the railings and the fences
I know if we're face to face then she'll come to her senses
Every drunk step and path leads me to her door
If she sees how much I'm hurting
She'll take me back for sure

[Chorus]
And my mates are all there trying to calm me down
'Cause I'm shouting your name all over town
I'm swearing if I go there now
I can change her mind turn it all around

I know that I'm drunk but I'll say the words,
And she'll listen this time even though they're slurred,
So I dialed her number and confessed to her,
I'm still in love but all I heard was nothing (nothing, nothing...)
She said nothing (nothing nothing)

Oh I wanted words but all I heard was nothing
Oh I got nothing
Nothing
I got nothing
Nothing
Oh I wanted words but all I heard was nothing

Oh sometimes love's intoxicating
Oh you're coming down your hands are shaking
When you realise there's no one waiting

Am I better off dead
Am I better off a quitter
They say I'm better off now
Than I ever was with her

[Chorus]
And my mates are all there trying to calm me down
'Cause I'm shouting your name all over town
I'm swearing if I go there now
I can change her mind turn it all around

I know that I'm drunk but I'll say the words,
And she'll listen this time even though they're slurred,
So I dialed her number and confess to her,
I'm still in love but all I heard was nothing (nothing, nothing...)
She said nothing (Nothing, nothing...)
Oh I wanted words but all I heard was nothing
Oh I got nothing (Nothing, nothing...)
I got nothing (Nothing, nothing...)

Oh I wanted words but all I heard was nothing
Oh I got nothing (Nothing, nothing...)
I got nothing, I got nothing