Not too long ago, there was a time when I would fling my arms up in angst at the sight of my two-year old throwing a fist-thumping, leg-kicking tantrum. He would cry for candies, a Spiderman toy or a new fish tank. There also was a time when he would lie in bed sick with fever, his eyes constantly searching for my presence. Nothing would work better than a big warm hug and a cute little story.

This little boy turns 14 this week.

Where did the years go? Where’s that little boy who was already ready to go out with mummy and daddy? Who is this moody, rebellious, know-it-all but delightful teenager who didn’t pester me for a birthday gift, and instead used his saved-up pocket money for an action video game?

My heart wants to rejoice and scream at the same time.

I chose to be a working mother and I love the work I do. But drawing that work-life balance wasn’t the easy street I had envisioned. There were days when I wish I could have just retreated into a quiet corner and magically reappear with solutions. I don’t think anything had prepared me for this, but I coped — as we all do — and I live to tell the tale.

A teenager has different needs, and talking it out with friends who have already been through it, helped. I began using the loving help of friends; their advice, their moral support and just knowing that I wasn’t alone in feeling this way, helped me. Also being the voracious reader that I am, I collected books on parenting wisdom, using their advice and adding from my own experience.

As time went by, I began to see the true interests of my child; the activities he genuinely enjoyed and those he tried to avoid. I began to focus on what his authentic talents and interests were. It was no longer necessary for me to have that perfect child who was the perfect artist, sportsman and academician, all rolled into one. I wanted a happy child and that was good enough for me. I stopped being the mother I thought he must have and instead became the mother he needed. And slowly, we survived year one of the teens — the toughest one I think.

The weird thing is, those tiny, sweet, precious little kids we were raising are there somewhere. Just bigger now. That humour? Still the same. That personality? Almost still the same. The tantrums? Same. That quirky five-year-old who loved animals and turned vegetarian after watching Finding Nemo? He’s still there too — only with longer legs and a lower voice.

Yes, my son turns 14 this week. And with him, I’ve enjoyed every bit of the madness and the joyful, crazy, hysterical, overwhelming ride that motherhood is.

I’m ready for more. Bring it on!