by Dian Harigelita @harigelita

I drop the car keys on the coffee table as I shuffle through the living room with two huge brown paper bags in my arms. I can barely see what’s in front of me, relying mostly on memory, I manage to arrive at the kitchen counter. I put down the load and simply being urged on by procrastination, decided to put the groceries away later. All the while, singing softly to the tiny passenger sleeping on my back.

“Ayah?” I called out. Trying not to wake the baby. But no answer.

So he decided to go to the office after all. After prodding each other throughout our daily morning mayhem. We both know how little work we get done when it’s just the three of us at home.

***

“Honey, could you give me a hand here?!” I called out to my husband who was nowhere in sight. Disa was being difficult, refusing to brush her teeth. She was brushing her lips instead. “Your teeth Disa, just this once. You’re a big girl aren’t you? Big girls use grown up tooth paste, you know. Just like Bunda and Ayah.” I tried persuading her, but even I wasn’t convinced by my own words.

“It’s spicy, Bunda!” she protested, spitting out any bit of toothpaste that managed to get in between her sealed lips.

I felt for her. We forgot to buy their usual orange flavored toothpaste. But her twin brother, Ditya, wasn’t cutting me any slack either. He was running around the house with the Garuda Toy Airplane  his father brought home the other day, acting out some air combat scene in his Batman underwear. Cute. But I wasn’t having his cuteness. Not right now. “Dityaaa, hurry up or you’ll be late for school!”
“No school! No school! Ratatatatatatata~ Bull’s Eye! School Down! School Down! May Day! May Day!” he yelled jumping up and down the sofas.

As I passed the nursery room on my way to catch the little Royal Air Force Pilot that is likely to go AWOL, I caught a glimpse of my husband craddling baby Nuri closely in his arms, and paused. He was singing something into her ears, as if trying to protect her from all the racket outside. The morning sun rays flickered upon them like confetti. Scenes like this makes me want to always have a pocket camera in hand. But I guess my memory should do for now. I had to get Ditya ready for school too.

“MY GOD! Ditya, what are you do—!?” I grabbed him just as he tripped over the fruit basket. He fell safely into my arms. He was trying to reach for the handle of upper cabinet where I kept their snacks and cereal.

I carried him over to the sofa and sat him on my lap.

“Never, ever do that again, Young Man. Do you hear me?” in a stern whisper, I reprimanded him. I held both his wrists firmly, looking deep into his brown eyes. Just before a tear escaped, I hugged him close and began rubbing his tiny back. Tiny compared to my grown up hand. He started sobbing, “I’m sorry, Bunda..”

“It’s OK.” I coaxed him “Sshh..now.”

I still had to check on Disa. So, carrying Ditya who was sniffling over my shoulder, I went back to the rest room. Disa wasn’t there. So, I walked to the kid’s room, and I found her putting on some clothes, but not the ones I laid out for her earlier. She was struggling with the buttons. “Good girl, Disa. But are you sure you want to wear Pajamas to school, sweetie?” I asked nicely. With the same round brown eyes her twin brother owns she looks up to me and nods sheepishly. I smile, “You wanna know what Bunda thinks? Bunda thinks, you’ll look a lot prettier with your Chippette’s Blouse. See? It even has Brittany on it. Your favorite. Right?” pointing to the applique on the blouse, which she instantly notices as her favorite cartoon character, nods and begins unbuttoning her pajamas. “Good girl. Now, Bunda has to shower Ditya first. So could you be an even smarter darling by finishing getting dressed and ask Ayah for breakfast?” “Okay, Bunda!” she chirps proudly, seeing that her brother was far from being ready for school.

***

Morning Mayhems always seem to last for hours due to tons of drama. The good thing is, the twins have a strong sense of independence, so they seldom fight or get in each others way. The bad thing is, they seemed to be programmed to drive their parents up the wall, so we concluded. Every single day. Pushing our limits, proving that parenthood is a very complex job. But for a job we’ve both been praying for all our grown up lives, we’re willing to try and be the best we can be.

***

Just as I finished putting today’s laundry load into the washing machine, behind me, Nuri fidgets and whimpers. I walk to the nursery and gently move her to my front. “Is Bunda’s darling hungry?” I ask. She coos. I say a prayer and give her my right teat, which she suckles right away. “Minum yang banyak ya, Sayang.” I allow the Oxytocin High to ease all the tension from this morning. Slowly rocking the nursery chair.

***

I woke up, and Nuri was sleeping soundly with my bossom as her pillow. Checking the clock, I must’ve dozed off for 30 minutes or so. I got up, placed Nuri very carefully into her cot, and brought her to the kitchen since I still had to put away the groceries also prepare dinner. I openned the fridge and to my surprise there was a Red White and Blue birthday cake with gold stars and candles, 36 was my wild guess. The cake read, “Happy Birthday, Wonder Woman!”

There was a drawing propped next to it. A brother and sister collaboration. A picture of a woman — which obviously was meant to be me — wearing a superhero costum, undies inside-out, floating cape and all. Also a note:

‘No need to cook dinner dear, we’re eating out tonight. Love, Superman.’

***