Learning to Be a Mother

30. Be patient.

"I was wrong, Mom?"

"Bu Laras don't get emotional first, yeah."

Sounds like a sudden brake, I immediately blinked with a face covered in palms. It seems I was too serious to listen, maybe Miss Irma was surprised to hear me so impressed like being invited to a fight.

"Indeed, what such a child does could be one of the factors due to the lack of parental attention. But you can't blame yourself, that's not the solution. It could be that Kalista needs more attention, so divided into two. Must be hard, Mom?"

I nodded slowly, it was difficult to manage the time to provide for their physical and spiritual needs. Sometimes, I am like a maid who is constantly told to do so without the help or initiative of a husband and child. However, I also think this is the duty of a mother.

It's heavy, I can say the weight at any time. The woman in front of me showed her mother's taste, she rubbed my shoulder while smiling as a temporary sedative.

"It's okay, Mom. It's natural, every mother has experienced this too."

"In that case, how do you handle it?" I continue the discussion. "Do I have to apologize or ...?"

Ms. Irma replied, "Mom don't have to apologize, I just need to be patient. Patience when the child does not want to tell a story, patience when the child is more willing to make the story, patient when the child says tired and does not need to compare our fatigue, we do not need to compare our feelings, and patiently when the child is asked is answered short."

"A lot of it, yes," I said spontaneously.

"Yes, Mom. If we do it all, God willing, the child will feel accepted and ready to talk more. He was able to express his emotions, and Fathan also grew into a more open person."

Hearing Fathan's name spoken to be a more open person, I so imagine how cheerful my son when telling stories. How Fathan recounted his day at school, what made him happy in class, and how much pocket money he wanted. I waited for my son to explain his many wishes.

Maybe Ms. Irma was right, I was too hard on Fathan who always took the time to study. I shouldn't have to give him a lot of expectations, I know he's trying hard. By making him an example to his sister, not necessarily Kalista will follow his brother because of his stubborn nature.

I mean, maybe I should be harder on my last kid when it comes to studying. He was given a lot of attention but never changed, I often succumbed but was defeated also by his emotions. Although what makes Kalista angry is natural, he should not and should try to generalize his position like his brother.

As the conclusion of our encounter, I smiled sincerely while thrusting these two palms together to shake hands. I've been here a long time, who knows I'm bothering him, I also have to check my first child's condition at home.

"That's it thank you, Mom. I'm really helped."

"Together, Miss Laras. I'm glad to hear it."

We exchanged smiles. Just standing up from the spot, Ms. Irma immediately moved quickly as if there was something to give before I left the room.

"In a moment, ma'am," he said hindering my return.

He seemed to be looking for something. After the thing was in her hands, Ms. Irma gave it to me with an expression that looked like 'luckily I remember'.

"This is the book Fathan left behind, Mom. The textbook."

I accept it with pleasure. "Oh, yes. Thanks again, Mom. Sorry ngerepotin."

Ms. Irma shook her head lightly, then escorted me to the front of the room which ended with the word 'cari' as the end of our meeting. I came home with a book, a medium for learning that displayed the name of Muhammad Fathan as the owner on the cover of the book.

The school hall was not as crowded as before, it seemed like the first exam hours had begun, visible from the number of students neatly arranged on their respective tables as I passed the class. I forgot to tell my husband. Arriving at the school gate, I immediately opened my phone and contacted him by sending a note message this morning.

Don't forget lunch, I'm sorry for yesterday.

There are many causes and reasons that can be used as an external factor of my husband's anger. From his solid work, the condition of the house is a mess, not to mention facing his wife and children while holding hunger. I was really careless, supposed to wake up early for today!

A few minutes standing in front of the school gate, I ended up using public transport as a faster ride home. It just so happened that a lot of shuttles stopped, so I got on board, and hoped to get home soon.

...***...

"Thank you, yeah."

After the vehicle drove away, I entered the yard while looking through the contents of my first child's notebook. It seems that Fathan is also known to be diligent in school, in the past he had told me about how consistent it was to visit the library even though he was not accompanied by friends.

At first it was just plain writing, but looking at the back of the notebook, I fell silent without taking another step into the house. I stood in front of the door, carefully observing each line arrangement into a familiar sketch like before.

After raising his head, there was the presence of Fathan who welcomed my return with a smile. Just about to ask continuously, I remembered what Miss Irma said earlier. Fathan hid this to me, maybe he didn't want to tell me.

"Mama pulangg."

Finally, I closed the case for now, choosing not to prolong the problem with many questions to corner the child. Oh, I forgot to buy something. I should've brought her favorite chocolate milk, you forgetful.

"What's up, Fathan? Did you finish the exam?"

Fathan nodded enthusiastically. "Udah, easy, Ma. The second lesson will be at nine, it's still a long time. It's just finished eating."

"Pinter, Mama's Son. Rest first, gih. Mama's gonna wash her feet first."

I actually walked into the bathroom. Not fully intending to wash my feet, I wanted my son to realize that I was taking home his missed book. After rinsing my feet, I approached him again with a book that was no longer on the table.

Fathan looked stiffer than before. It turns out that my guess is right, he did hide this from me. Maybe it's time this boy had more feelings than affection, secretly he had his favorite girl. Illustration of the same woman among the papers in her room and in her textbook.

I'm sure I didn't see it wrong. Although I do not know who my son's identity is, I only hope that she knows how to appreciate, and Fathan also understands the meaning of the boundaries between women and men.

"Mama, can Fathan ask permission not this malem?"

My eyebrows shriveled, questioning his purpose. "Where are you going?"

"To the bookstore," he replied slowly. "same Kalista too, Fathan had said earlier on WhatsApp. Can, huh?"

Well, I rarely see the two get along, even to the point of promising to enjoy time together outside the house. I could've given him permission, but considering my husband was a complete no-no. So I gave it a limit.

"Go home before nine, huh?"

"Ready, Mama."