Fierce Mommy

This morning was one of those mornings where I wished I drank coffee or alcohol or both at the same time. To say I was cranky was an understatement. It was one of those mornings where I wished I could turn down the blinds and pretend the world didn't exist. Unfortunately, I couldn't so I growled, barked and snapped all the way through the morning.

Why?

Because the twins decided to be bright-eyed and bushy tailed at 5.30 in the morning. Of course, because of that, they were at the receiving end of Mommy's snappish, desperately sleep-deprived temper. I did however, discover two things.

1. The twins have learnt to listen and distinguish my tones of voice.

They know when I mean business, they know when I'm about to get mad and they know the 'don't mess with Mommy' tone. And when all are married into one, they know to take cover. Like this morning. Chattering away and getting themselves wound up was something I did not want to have to deal with that early. There was a progression. First, I told them to go back to sleep and they ignored me. Then, I asked them to lie down and they still went their merry way. After that, I demanded that they were to keep quiet, lie down and quit messing about and they stood still for a minute before resuming their early morning play session. That's when something in my sleepy head snapped and I hissed at them that if in 5 seconds, they weren't lying down and keeping quiet I was going to get angry. Immediately, both heads obediently went down onto the pillow without a peep for the next five minutes, which I guess in two-year-old terms was a long long time.

2. The twins know how to seek comfort in one another.

Of course, the silence did not last for very long and it wasn't enough to get them back to sleep. They had evidently had enough sleep despite the fact that I hadn't. Even then, I wasn't going to let them get away with being up and about so early and running round the house. Jordan started to get whiny and started crying for Papa. When I told her no, the crying became wailing, which I did not take kindly to and stared her down. Even in the dark, she knew I wasn't pleased with her and she was one step away from getting a smacking on the diapered bum. In such a situation, she would usually try and seek comfort in someone carrying her. And unfortuately, while crying for Papa, she'd already discovered Papa was blissfully too concussed to come to her rescue if Mommy did unleash some smacking on the bottom. So she settled for what was next best. Evan. Plaintive wailing ensued that would have cracked me up if I wasn't so annoyed. "Didi, carry me!" She pleaded repeatedly while Evan stands by and watches bemused.

Obviously, her heavier than she by 1.5 kg brother is unable to carry her, much to her chagrin. He does, however go over to her and pats her, somewhat condescendingly on the head on goes "Didi sayang", which loosely translated means "Evan love". That placates her somewhat and also realising that she really isn't going to get smacked by Mommy and Mommy isn't so angry as to deprive Jordan of a nice comforting hug help as well.

I'm still tired but the thought of her begging her brother to carry her has caused me to involuntarily dissolve into giggles at odd times of day.

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