AS I walked home from the MRT station last week, the heavens threatened to open up. I juggled with my bag and umbrella and flinched each time a bolt of lightning and a crash of thunder exploded around my head. My phone rang.

It was my daughter Aleysa. "Are you all right?" she asked anxiously.

"Hurry home, I don't want you to be struck by lightning."

I reassured her that I was all right and would be home in a few minutes. I felt a sudden warm glow in me. I was touched by her concern for me and was almost moved to tears. It is at moments such as these that the thought hits home " what a blessing it is to be a mother.

Who else but a child would stare out of the window and pray that her parents will get home safely, that "nothing happens to them"?

These are rare and precious moments to cherish because they are unexpected. Aleysa, who turned 10 a few months ago, is already showing signs of teenage angst.

My exchanges with her tend to end on a sour note, with me losing my temper because she doesn't obey me. But then the anger always melts away quickly under the warmth of her smile and the unconditional love that she showers on me. Even as she stomps off in a huff and sulks in her room, I know she will be making a card to apologise to me and promise never to behave badly again. The truce never lasts but it is the thought that counts, isn't it?

Giving me the cards she makes is her favourite way of showing her love for me and her father. With Mother's Day around the corner, she is probably planning her latest masterpiece.

When she was younger, it was my husband who encouraged her to make a card for mummy. She would then present it to me as a gift "from me and Papa".

Now that she is 10, the shoe is on the other foot. Now she tells her father that they should get me a gift. It is nice because instead of me dropping hints to my husband, I just tell her to tell papa that "Mum would like a diamond ring" or "Mum wants a watch". The ploy does not always work, but it is fun to try it.

It is not easy to be loving parents. When she was a baby, I used to think that things would get easier when she grew up. Now I wish she was still a toddler, because life seemed a breeze in the days before primary school, exams and her displays of defiance and rudeness.

But after a decade of motherhood, I am slowly beginning to realise that it will never get easier. As your children grow up to become more independent, they may outgrow you in many ways.

But you can never stop caring and worrying and loving them. I know that no matter how old Aleysa gets, she will always be my "baby".

In the next 10 years, I hope that I can find the strength to let go, cut the apron strings and let her find her own way in the world.

I would not bet on it though.