Learning to Be a Mother

7. Don't Fear.

Karawang, Purwasari at five in the afternoon when the sun will return to the place of the dispute. After serving a plate of warm fried bananas, I placed my husband's favorite cup of milk coffee on the living room table. He's not alone, he's with his favorite laptop.

Feeling that my work was done, I finally tidied up my clothes and sat down with him on the sofa. I did not ask him to assume my presence this time, he said the project to be built was bigger than his previous work plan. So I'm trying to understand Cahyo.

"Is it still hurting her stomach?"

I'm appalled. "No, Dad. Thank God it is light," I replied with a shy smile. Cahyo could still ask, yes.

"So you ate?"

"Udah, really."

"If anything is lacking, tell me."

I nodded obediently, my smile silently expanding even though it was only for a moment that Cahyo was making small talk. I didn't apologize, I hoped Cahyo would try to understand me, although not completely I could understand.

A few minutes later, his attention was no longer centered at one point. The man beside me took off the electronic device from his lap to the table, his back leaning against the sofa which could still be highlighted by the twilight from this house.

If only Cahyo had made me his only priority, I'm sure none of this would have happened. My husband's age this year is 46 years old, he still looks handsome in my eyes despite being interspersed with dozens of strands of white gray, his character also sometimes looks warm even though it often makes us depressed. My husband has a competitive and assertive personality like his second son.

Usually the first child will be more like his father. But what happened in my family was just the opposite. Fathan is similar to me, he's more calm and willing to give in to his sister. While Kalista resembled her father, she was rational and had difficulty controlling emotions.

My children were born at the same time, you could say they are twins who are not identical. Fathan is closer to me, whereas I'm not sure who Kalista is on good terms with. A few months ago I realized I was overindulging him, so Kalista grew into a person who always wanted to be understood.

No wonder his father always nagged, commenting on how Kalista should behave. Although sometimes they have a point too, but my husband does not easily lower prestige just to justify what the children say.

I thought tonight would be quiet after the little chat that happened between us. However, after hearing someone rush home, my feelings became unpleasant.

"Don't run!"

My daughter had a sharp glance at her father. Maybe he will miss us this time, but his brother is able to make Kalista bow obediently despite having to be forced. They shake hands with us.

"So the bekel was eaten, Kalista?"

"Take it," he answered briefly.

"Enter others."

"Other people?" I stared at Kalista who distracted her. "Who are you?"

"Take a look."

"Torck?"

"Schooler!"

"Whisper!"

Then, the three of us silenced after my husband shouted. It seems like he is distracted, the proof is that Cahyo is back to work on his business now. I don't know how busy my husband is, how to command his work, but we certainly shouldn't make this noise.

After making us speechless, Cahyo looked at us one by one with his horrible lyrics. Starting from Fathan, I, then Kalista as the last object of his eyeball stopped.

"Mama gave her food for you, not for anyone else. You are told to eat hard!" jolt Cahyo at him. "Look at the people out there, not everyone can eat well!"

"What was that about you?"

"Dad," called me to look at her fretfully. "Udah, justin."

"Well, look, here. You also saw a really soft kid, see what it's like, right? LOOKY!"

"Udah, really. Males me."

After breaking up his quarrel, Kalista went into the room with a door slam as the conclusion of their conversation. I can assure you, his feelings are getting worse right now.

"Fathan, get in the room, yeah."

The man beside me clucked violently, he put down his laptop again to sip a cup of kahwa. If I can be honest, I immediately thought of his words earlier. Maybe I was too soft or weak for my son, but I also did not want to look rude to my husband.

I can't be neutral yet, I don't know when it's time to be firm with my kids. I don't want to be too hard, nor do I want to make them depressed. Although Kalista always acts as she pleases, I still love her.

After Fathan's shadow followed him into the room, I exhaled to begin discussing serious matters to my husband. I don't want her to be hated by my children.

"Dad, I'm asking you a favor. Don't be rude to Fathan or Kalista," I said, touching his wrist. "I'm afraid they'll be depressed."

"If I wasn't like this, they wouldn't be. You should also be more assertive, do not want to be roughed up by children."

"I'm not ...."

"Fearful?"

I folded my lips inside, unable to answer what Cahyo was saying right now. I'm not scared, not completely scared. I just ....

"It's up to you" my husband said, deactivating his laptop. He got up from this place, carrying away his favorite thing until I was surprised after Cahyo slammed the door of his room as well.

I'm alone.

A few seconds later, my wrist trembled with a restless feeling that wandered all over the body. Am I really afraid or is this all just a temporary sloppy impression that will disappear slowly?

Without the permission of the owner of the eyes, the water children launched their presence after this face I closed with my palm. I am ashamed, at the age of 40 years is still hesitant to take care of Fathan and Kalista who are now in the teenage phase.

I stared at the bananas I had fried no longer in warm temperatures, they were getting cooler as the night published their existence. Coffee that was previously evenly stirred was also not spent, the pulp is still not visible with hot steam that has been lost.

Sometimes I feel that I am not considered, not appreciated by the people around me even though I am still at the stage of trying to understand the situation here. It may be one of my weaknesses as well, but I beg no one to complicate my affairs anymore.

"Mama."

What used to be my emotions stirring, the longer melted due to the embrace of both hands that bend warm to my body. His head was propped up on me, he was breathing with gasps as if to equate the way I cried earlier.

"Mama, Fathan, I'm sorry."

My crying stopped, I touched the back of her hand while shaking my head. No, it's not Fathan or Kalista's fault. I no longer blame Cahyo, my treatment is too soft and I agree everything happens.

Maybe it's time for me to take a stand, I don't have to hesitate to reprimand and stop what might go wrong. I need to think rationally like my husband. I can't lose in his eyes anymore.