“We live in a rainbow of chaos.” -Paul Cezanne
Every morning, my children wake at 6am. The unharnessed wildness of the rush downstairs, screaming of demands, the separation from reason– my home becomes ataxic pandemonium with a dash of glitter, and all that is sweet.
My youngest, Olivia, is a Chinese cherub with a sweet baby voice. At 2 years of age, she has flames burning in her brown-red eyes; flecks of faint images of the razed villages from Mongolian ancestors. Her gaze is paralyzing and she strategically works her elder sister into a deleterious rant—so that she can conquer all of the toys.
Her older sister,Kien is a 5 year old force of nature; created from the genes of her Khan ancestors but wrapped into a lithe muscular package of wit, contagious laughter, and a smile that can save the world– or end it. She’s a shrewd negotiator with everyone except her little sister. The two are best friends/worst enemies; sisters joined in a constant flux of trouble that can destroy the house, rip up a sofa, or hogtie a very unhappy cat– all in 5 minutes.
This morning, I unleashed my small hoard from the confines of their room, and slowly trudged after them; the coffee machine being my first necessary stop. Kien had already grabbed Olivia’s favorite toy-of-the-moment, a random stuffed puppy that’s missing it’s front paw due to our beloved oversized mutt, Baby.
As I fumbled to make my joe, I heard the heathens screaming. “That is miaannne! You don’t take it! No, ok!” My Olivia has a Chinglish accent– one left over from the time my Chinese, non-English speaking mother in-law lived with us. The blend of attempted English and fluent Mandorin sprinkled in a wispy fairy voice makes it very hard to understand most times.
When she is screaming hysterically it becomes very grating.
The toy is being held hostage by big sister and Olivia has a clump of Kien’s still attached hair twisted in her fist. Big sister seems to enjoy her little sister’s rare meltdown and is goading her. It may have something to do with how stoic Olivia usually is in the face of the Kienster, and most times, Olivia bests Kien by going on to another activity and not taking the bait– but today was different. I try not to intervene whenever I feel that the girls can work it out, but after Olivia smacks her sister in the face, and bites her–it’s clear that an intervention was needed. “Can we find something else to do? What about coloring?” I was trying to keep desperation out of my voice and just needed that cup of joe to get me started for the day. The girls grant me a mercy, dropping the stuffed puppy and became engrossed in coloring stars and rainbows.
I turned my back to pour some almond milk into my cup and enjoy a tiny respite from the screaming. After several quite minutes I heard trouble brewing. The girls started giggling hysterically. I turn to see that Kien had smuggled permanent markers out of the art supply cabinet and decorated her sister’s face and torso.
A loud banshee-like sound filled my ears and I realized that the noise was coming from me. “Ohhhhhhh-nooooooooooo!” Both girls looked up at me, startled by my reaction and broke out in wailing sobs. To regain my composure, I quickly did a 10-deep-breaths-count while closing my eyes. When I opened them, I couldn’t help but laugh. The little heathens were hysterical in their appearance! Olivia had cried so much that most of the marker is smeared all over her face, streaking red and yellow down her chubby cheeks. Kien had wiped her hands down her face, and left a trail of stripes all the way past her chin. They have taken on the appearance of a sad looking Kiss cover band.
I scooped down and picked them both up in a big mommy embrace.
They have colored my life in a beautiful rainbow of chaos, and I wouldn’t want to trade away moments like these for anything in the world.
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