Resurrected from my archives - April 2, 2015

It has been a really tough week for me. I always plan all these fun things to do for my birthday. This year, I thought, “Whatever! I’m not a kid. Why make so much ado about a simple day?” I made no serious plans and expected nothing. My darling husband rose up to the task and made my day very special and happy. When people say, “Happy Birthday”, do they really wish that you have a happy day or is it something that we say just because. The same way we say, “Have a good day”, “Have a safe trip”, “Have a good night…” I really think that we have got so used to saying these words as responses that most times we don’t mean it deeply enough. Oh well, I digress. It’s really your business what you say and what you mean. I did have a truly happy birthday. Even though at the end of the day, I got sick and one week after, I am still on my way to recovery. Through the day, I kept having these nostalgic feelings. Last year, on my birthday, I was heavily pregnant. All I asked my husband for was a buttery, creamy vanilla cake. I told him to just get 8 inches and that I didn’t want to share it with anyone. Lol. He fulfilled that wish, but made me share the cake. The nostalgic feelings came mixed with gratitude. The child, who was weighing me down and ripping my ligaments last year, was hugging and kissing me this year. I know that every parent believes their child is the best kid in the whole world. Well, I know that indeed my son is the best kid you’ve ever come across. That’s a fact! He laughs a lot. Not the average hahaha, but an intense, pure, honest laughter. Sometimes, he laughs so hard that he snorts and farts. Ridiculous! I look at my son and I believe that God is real and He answers prayers. LX is all I prayed for and more. So, I spent my birthday not reflecting on my life or achievements or lack of achievements. All I could think about was the little boy who is the most important person in my life (well, after his dad!). I get up to go to work every day and I feel guilty sometimes that I am not with him. I have a full time job, so my hours with him are very limited. But I remind myself that it’s ok. I am doing a good thing. I am working so that I can give him the good things of life. I am working so that I can teach him the value of hard work. I am working so that I can take him to visit his cousins scattered around the world. I am working for all these reasons and so much more. My womb is still hungry. I look forward to having another baby. Spending time with LX and the new baby and doing this mommy business better the second time. I am looking forward to more laughter in my home. But the time is not right. I’ll wait a few more months and try again. Fingers crossed.

Journey to Motherhood

Thinking about my life and the lives of some other moms I know, it’s become clear how unique every woman’s journey to motherhood is. Our experiences are as unique and different as our finger prints. For some lucky ones, they get pregnant at the drop of a hat (or a thong!). For some, like me, it takes planning, trying, praying and waiting, before it finally happens. For others, it takes years of waiting and medical intervention for the seed to sprout. No matter the path that leads us to those pink lines, the joy is indescribable. It’s pure and perfect. It’s the beginning of hopes, dreams and aspirations. For many of us, our children don’t become real when we hold them in our arms. They become real the moment we get a positive pregnancy test.

As unique as conception is, the months that follow also take us down different paths. For some it’s business as usual with only a bump to show. For others, like me, it’s puking, insomnia, loss of appetite, discomfort of varying kinds and degrees. While some have to wait it out on bed rest with very limited activity.

The delivery takes us down another unique path. From medication-free deliveries, to planned C-sections. From smooth and easy vaginal deliveries, to endless hours of pain and anguish.  We push through because we can see the light at the end of the tunnel. It’s feels like we are in a marathon, and we can finally see the finish line. 

 

Whatever your story, however you got here, you’re a mom now. You’ve experienced a special, genuine kind of love. Love that makes all your earlier (and future) challenges well worth it. You have this little human who you’ll carry close to your heart for the rest of your life. That child becomes your world, and to that child, you’re God on earth.

This piece is also published on http://akwukwo.com/blog/

On Criticism

Once upon a time in Toronto, I was babysitting two boys, 7 years old & 5 years old. They were such cute, darlings, but the first few days were such a challenge as they were probably testing my boundaries. 

 

I wasn't a mom at the time, and even though I have a bunch of nieces and nephews, I still didn't know a lot about dealing with kids. 

 

The boys' mom would get in from work and ask me how the day was. My answers those first few days always went thus: "Oh the day went well, but...(insert some naughty thing the boys did)" One day, their mom got back really exhausted, poured herself a glass of wine and asked the same question, "How did the day go?" I went about answering the exact same way I always did when she interjected, "Do the boys never do anything good?" I stopped in my tracks and immediately realized how critical I must come across. I sat down and whispered, "I'm really sorry." I picked up my purse and left and I made up my mind to be better. 

 

That change of attitude made the rest of the summer go really well with the boys. They brought out the kid in me and I happily taught them to read, math, puzzles etc. They also kept me in shape running, playing soccer, field hockey and enjoying long walks. When I had to leave, it was an emotional goodbye. They will always have a special place in my heart.

 

Fast forward a couple of years. I had my son and was getting ready to go back to work. Got a nanny who was great until she wasn't. It was a combination of little things. My son had gone 10 months with no diaper rash until she started watching him. Week after week, there was redness on his bum. I increased diaper supply, I created a diaper change schedule... everything! Still no improvement. 

 

Then the criticism started...

 

"You should get LX to see a neurologist. My uncle told me kids who walked too early could have developmental problems"

 

"LX is so whiny and never wants to play with other kids at Strong Start. He clings to me the whole time. He should see a behavioural specialist"

 

"I think LX has issues with social gatherings. He simply can't play with kids"

 

"He scratched this kid... and hit this kid..."

 

She didn't end there. She judged me subtly and not so subtly for working.

 

"I would never leave my child until she is at least 3..."

 

"I don't know how you can go to work everyday and not miss your son. I couldn't do it... My child is my first priority".

 

I was so hurt and angry. How dare she judge me for working and say all these crazy things about my son? Anyone who knows my little boy will attest to the fact that he loves people, laughs like a hyena and loves loves loves to play. We get reports from daycare on how compassionate he is with the other kids. I was hurt but most of all, I was angry.

 

I don't think I have ever been that mad at anyone. I had to rein it in, as I was still searching for alternative child care. In other areas of my life, I take criticism well and always step back and honestly search myself.

 

One day, without prior notice, I marched into her flat, cut her a check, called a cab and took every one of my son's belongings. That was the end of it. I couldn't have someone who saw my son in such a negative light be responsible for him 9 hours a day.

 

As moms, we are fiercely protective and will tear down anyone who even comes close to attacking our cubs. I think that defensive rage is a super power only moms have.  The calmest of us will tear you to shreds if you try to bring down our kids.

 

Next time you have the opportunity to watch a child, realize how much faith the parents must have in you. Respect that. When offering criticism, choose your words carefully, make sure your motive is simply the child's best interest and for Christ's sake, put yourself in the mother's shoes.

This piece is also published on http://www.akwukwo.com/blog/

Nostalgia 1

I really don't know why I have a '1' beside nostalgia. It's not my intention to write a lot about nostalgia. I have not really thought it through, I just know that I want to write something about nostalgia.

Nostalgia is a good and bad thing. I am more of a live in the present and look to the future type of person. There are a lot of things about my past I would rather not remember. Things that I have consciously replaced with other things in my mind.

For example, growing up, my parent's relationship had a bipolar quality to it. When things were good, they were really good. But, when things were bad, they were really bad. Violently bad. I choose not to dwell on it, because it makes me unhappy. It makes me embarrassed and it makes me mad. Unhappy that my father treated my mother so badly sometimes, embarrassed that I didn't say anything about it. In truth, nobody really said anything (at the time). I just pretended that it didn't happen; we all did. I am mad at how that experience affected me in relationships. I could not date any man who raised his voice (even if he raised it in excitement). I was afraid of bad-tempered men. When it came to men and anger, I gave no second chances.

My father and I had a good relationship, so I felt that to acknowledge this dark side of him was to denounce the good side. In my child mind, those two pictures could not exist. It had to be one or the other, and I chose the easier path. Don't get it wrong, I do not blame myself. I am not responsible for anybody's behaviour. I just wish that I could teleport back to that time, and react a different way.

There were times in my past when I treated people I love badly. I was disloyal to them, and insensitive to how my words or action impacted them. I was mean, didn't know what to say and when to say it. I just lived my life selfishly and carelessly. I hate to remember that time in my life. I do not know how those people can still love me. I look back at that time ashamed.

There are many periods in my past that I look back on and smile. Experiences that I am glad I had. Mistakes I made that now seem so stupid that I can't help but laugh at myself. Mistakes I almost made that would have been utterly destructive. Phew! Boy am I grateful for that still, small voice. I am glad for the life that I have lived and how all those experiences have made me who I am.

Is there really a point to nostalgia? If I could, do I really want to go back to any time period in my life? I would love to go back to my life in Nigeria though. Not for anything serious, just to eat ofada rice, yam pottage, suya, nkwobi and isi ewu, Ghana high ewa agoyin, my mother's oha and jollof rice, Delta kitchen starch and owho soup,Iya eba's rice and fish with roundabout and shaki. Yellow chili's pounded yam and banga soup, Jevenik's everything, PH bole and fish, asun from that place in Yaba (don't remember what it's called),  These are the things I miss about Nigeria. Oh, add air-conditioning. I live in Vancouver, we don't have air-conditioning! They claim it doesn't get that hot, and so it's not worth destroying the environment for. Isn't global warming a bitch!

Little nuggets from the bible that encourage me!

Ephesians 3:16-21
“I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God.

Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think. Glory to him in the church and in Christ Jesus through all generations forever and ever! Amen.” (NLT)

Jeremiah 29:11
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (NIV)

Isaiah 49:15-16
“Can a mother forget her nursing child? Can she feel no love for the child she has borne? But even if that were possible, I would not forget you! See, I have written your name on the palms of my hands.” (NLT)

Ephesians 2:4-5
“But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved.” (NIV)

Lamentations 3:22 – 25
Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.” The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him. ” (NIV)

Titus 3: 4-5 “But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit.” (NIV)

Romans 8: 35-39
“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: “For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (NIV)

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I dedicate this post to a dear friend who needs to know at this time that God loves us, not because we love him or how perfect we are, but because He created us in His image. We are never too far away from the loving hand of God. xoxo

Once upon a cock

“Let’s get out of here”. Tommy said, grinning from ear to ear. I thought of how Bonnie wouldn't stop talking about how good a lay he was. A part of me doubted that anything had ever happened between them. Bonnie was such a cute liar. Her head was full of fantasies and sometimes she let some of her fantasies slip. Cute little pitiful lies.

“Sure, let’s go”. I followed him even though I didn't want to. He wasn't my kind of guy. I didn't trust frat boys who played sports and used so much product on their hair you could feel the grease a mile away. But I went with him.

We sat at the back of his truck and listened to Daft Punk as we smoked a joint. The conversation was shit. Tommy wouldn't stop talking about his boys, his vacation home in Maldives and his parent’s many cars and luxury vacations. I didn't give a rat’s ass!

I knew he wanted to rip my pants and fuck me. I didn't care. I hadn't been laid in over a year. At this point, he had moved on to tell me how hard it was to push the hoard of girls trolling after him. I smiled. “I bet it’s tough being one of the hottest guys on campus”. I said. “Spoiled for choice, eh?” He chuckled and shrugged. That was probably his weak attempt at humility.

Tommy leaned forward and kissed me. “Oh Michelle! You taste so good”, he moaned. In my head, I thought, “Excuse me, I taste of the burrito I had for lunch. Just kiss me and shut up!” Instead, I feigned a moan in response. He upped the tempo and started fondling my breasts. He was so rough it was disgusting. I kept moaning; pretending to love it. He pulled down his pants and revealed his cock. As soon as I saw it, I burst into laughter. “What the hell! Bonnie said you had a big dick.” I couldn't help myself. Tommy had the lamest dick I had ever seen and believe me, I have seen quite a bit. It was shaped like a blunt pencil and curved to the left side. It looked like he had been swimming bare ass in chlorine for days. I automatically reached out to touch it before he pulled away. Yes, it was hard. That was it at its best!

He started putting on his pants and was glaring at me the whole time, cussing under his breath. “Bitch! Fucking bitch! Whore…” I couldn't stop laughing. He yanked me out of the back seat and flung me to the curb. “What the fuck, Tommy. Calm down. There’s no need to be…” He got into his truck, revved the engine and reversed. The last thought on my mind was, “My purse… I need to call a cab”.

Tommy drove a GMC Sierra. We were parked on the dirt road behind the Frat house. It was dark and not one soul was in sight. Not even the couples who came out there to make out. Nobody saw when Tommy reversed onto the curb where I lay and crushed me with his truck. That was it. Just like that the conversation was over!

Becoming the monster mom!

Before I had my son, I thought many moms were crazy, deluded and obsessed with their kids. I thought moms who never saw any wrong in their kids, who cheered their kids on regardless, who kissed their kids every 5 minutes, were all crazy. I thought the moms whose kids ran around like maniacs in the grocery store were irresponsible. I thought moms who gave their kids pureed jars were lazy. I thought moms whose homes were untidy, littered with toys and cardboard boxes, laundry basket full and spilling over with unfolded laundry, were disorganized. I thought moms who ordered Chinese take-out cos they didn't have time to cook were women with poor time management skills. For these ignorant and judgemental remarks, I ask your forgiveness. These moms are heroes. They are the moms who focus their time and energy to shower love on their kids. They are the moms who realize that nothing else is more important than their little ones. They are the moms who love their kids regardless of what they do (or don't do) and who they are. They are the moms who will kill anyone who messes with their child. This is the mom I am slowly but surely becoming.

All I did last weekend was go out to Stanley Park for a day with my husband and son. LX wore his fancy boots and ran around the grass. He had a lick from my ice cream and went wild! Screaming and laughing. It was priceless! I was in the zone and I loved it. Sunday morning, I woke up sore and tired. My hubby had an appointment and left home at 10am. It was just me and LX and we had a wonderful morning/afternoon. I managed to get two loads of laundry done. Folded some, left some, I refused to worry about household chores. I chose to cherish the moment and enjoy LX's giggles and hugs and kisses. That was/is all that truly matters.

My momzilla moment came when my nanny said to me that LX wouldn't play with kids at Strong Start and just wanted to be held. My son is not that kid. He is social and friendly and playful. To hear someone else tell me something contrary sparked something inside me. I took deep breaths and just said, "Maybe he was having a bad day". In my head, I was thinking, "How dare you tell me what my son is like? How dare you say such things about my son? My son is awesome and if you don't see it, it's cos you don't know what awesome looks like!" I find that I get ticked when I comment on something LX does and she says, "Oh he does it all the time with me.". Bitch please! The only reason I have not gone all black girl crazy on her ass is because she still watches LX. I don't want her taking it out on my son. She is great, but she needs to learn what not to say to a working mom.

Anyway, I laugh at myself when these monster mom traits surface. I am unapologetic for the mom that I am and the mom I will be. I love my son fiercely and will annihilate anyone that does or says anything negative to/about him. I will rise to his defence any day and I will be his greatest cheerleader. I will shower him with love. A lady at Carlton Cards said to me the other day, "Love your child with all your heart. Hold him however many times you want. People will tell you that you're spoiling him, tell them, there's nothing like too much love". I am not a textbook/ internet mom. I parent with my heart and my instincts. I am a monster mom and I am proud of that. Deal with it!

John Legend leaves me all hot and bothered!

I don't know who else loves John Legend, but me and my girl, Chizzy, we drool over him all the time! I don't know what it is, but when I listen to his music, I want to cry. Lol. His music seems so honest. Like he is speaking directly to me. Like he is looking at me and saying, "Yes, you. It's all about you. All for you. All of it..". I smile back at him, there are no words. With John Legend, I don't need to say anything. Just listen and love.

My darling husband is in on this love affair I have with John Legend. Pardon me, his name doesn't sound half as hot when it's just first name or last name. No John, no Legend, it's got to be John Legend. One of my best "I'm going to cry" moments with my partner was the first time he was leaving town to teach for a week in the summer. The day before he left, I had a wedding to plan, and a party to attend afterwards. The day/evening got really busy and I didn't get home till 2am. When I walked into my bedroom, my heart melted. My bed was made - properly (if you know my husband, you'd understand why this means a lot to me), and John Legend's album was playing on the computer and a YouTube 'fireplace' page was open. Oh and yes, my dear husband was asleep! He fell asleep waiting for his wife dearest.

We lived in a really small apartment then, so no real fireplace, no sound system and no space for too much jazz, but I saw the effort and my eyes moistened. He actually thought of inviting John Legend to the party! Let's just say his efforts were rewarded nicely and it was a sweet goodbye.

I'm going to share snippets of one of John Legend's songs so you understand what a bad ass he is.

...Except when I make it storm, sex in the greatest form
And hibernate under my body
Yep I keep it warmer than a chinchilla
She know I beat it up like the thriller in Manila
Flying my private jet to villas in Anguilla
Than throw you on a grill
Cause seven days a week you’re my 5 course meal
For real!

...  hit you with the best stroke,

Freestyle and the breaststroke
Til you blow a cigarette smoke
And now the bed's broke
So what we gon' do now
Fuck it, round two now
Work it out, then we cool down

...You fix your make up, just so

Guess you don't know, that you're beautiful
Try on every dress that you own
You were fine in my eyes a half hour ago

Off to my John Legend listening party!

It was my birthday on April 2nd

It has been a really rough week for me. I always plan all these fun things to do for my birthday. This year, I thought, “Whatever! I'm not a kid. Why make so much ado about a simple day?” I made no serious plans and expected nothing. My darling husband rose up to the task and made my day very special and happy. When people say, “Happy Birthday”, do they really wish that you have a happy day or is it something that we say just because. The same way we say, “Have a good day”, “Have a safe trip”, “Have a good night”… I really think that we have got so used to saying these words as responses that most times we don’t mean it deeply enough.

Oh well, I digress. It’s really your business what you say and what you mean. I did have a truly happy birthday. Even though at the end of the day, I got sick and one week after, I am still on my way to recovery. Through the day, I kept having these nostalgic feelings. Last year, on my birthday, I was heavily pregnant. All I asked my husband for was a buttery, creamy vanilla cake. I told him to just get 8 inches and that I didn't want to share it with anyone. Lol. He fulfilled that wish, but made me share the cake.

The nostalgic feelings came mixed with gratitude. The child, who was weighing me down and ripping my ligaments last year, was hugging and kissing me this year. I know that every parent believes their child is the best kid in the whole world. Well, I know that indeed my son is the best kid you've ever come across. That’s a fact! He laughs a lot. Not the average hahaha, but an intense, pure, honest laughter. Sometimes, he laughs so hard that he snorts and farts. Ridiculous! I look at my son and I believe that God is real and He answers prayers. LX is all I prayed for and more.

So, I spent my birthday not reflecting on my life or achievements or lack of achievements. All I could think about was the little boy who is the most important person in my life (well, after his dad!). I get up to go to work every day and I feel guilty sometimes that I am not with him. I have a full time job, so my hours with him are very limited. But I remind myself that it’s ok. I am doing a good thing. I am working so that I can give him the good things of life. I am working so that I can teach him the value of hard work. I am working so that I can take him to visit his cousins scattered around the world. I am working for all these reasons and so much more.

My womb is still hungry. I look forward to having another baby. Spending time with LX and the new baby and doing this mummy business better the second time. I am looking forward to more laughter in my home. But the time is not right. I’ll wait a few more months and try again. Fingers crossed!

On babies and all that jazz!

So I have been having baby blues. My womb is hungry for a baby. I know it sounds crazy because I have a 10 month old who is a handful and half and here I am dreaming of having another baby. A friend of mine had a baby a couple of days ago and just hearing her moan about the accompanying pains and discomfort of child birth made me want a child even more! I decided to step back and ask myself why I want another child. Here goes.

• I feel like another child will bring an opportunity to do this mommy business better. I have learned patience and perseverance. I have learned that no matter how tough the first few days are, it gets better and easier every month
• I feel like another child will give me a reason to stay home for at least 9 months to be with my son and of course the new baby
• I loved my pregnancy body and the sexual desires that arose within me during that time. It was simply incredible!
• I miss the attention and affection that came with my last pregnancy. My husband waited on me hand and foot and indulged every single one of my excesses
• I miss the mystery that surrounds a budding pregnancy. You wonder about sex, about names, about the child's appearance, temperament. You dream every minute of every day and you wait as every day feels like a 100 years

It's all selfish, I know. But who cares? I am allowed to be selfish. I pray that this baby hunger ends with my 2nd child. So watch this space. Another lil Gaul coming soon.

P.S. I am NOT pregnant!

On death

I have been taking swimming lessons the past month and so most Tuesday and Thursday nights, I have to walk past Fraser Cemetery. Once upon a time, I was afraid of cemeteries. Now, walking by one makes me more aware of the reality of death. We live and we die. That is probably the most inevitable thing there is. You simply cannot live forever. Death has never been something I spent time pondering in the past. Of course, when someone I know dies, I am caused to think. So this is the end for them? With death, there are no second chances. You can’t go and then decide that you are not ready and come back to life. When you go, you are gone.

As a Christian, I believe that there is life after death. I believe that based on the life we live on earth and the sheer grace of God, we end up in heaven or in hell. Not everyone would agree with this, but hey! That’s what I believe and that’s what gives me hope. Hope for the times when things are not going well. Hope for when I lose a loved one. Hope for a life without pain, sickness and suffering.

Walking past the cemetery, I look at the stones and wonder. To many, those stones mean nothing more than the resting place of God-knows-who. For at least one person, that John Doe is a father, a husband, a wife, a sister… Those stones hold the remains of that guy who didn’t show up to work on Monday. That schoolmate who never made it home from boarding school. That mom, who never got to meet her daughter’s prom date. My co-worker just told me the story of how she lost her husband 30 years ago. He left for work in the morning as he always did. A while later, his boss calls the house because he hadn’t arrived at work. She says she knew immediately that something was wrong. She heard cop sirens and she knew they were coming to her. That was the end. He was gone. His car collided with horses! Just like that. She is 65 now and never remarried. That’s what death does to some people. It seizes their tomorrow, by seizing the companion who should walk with them into tomorrow. In those graves lie decayed bodies and broken hearts.

Every day that passes, I ask myself, “How many steps closer to your dream are you today?” Most times, I cannot answer that question.  Gone are the days when, “You have great potential”, was a compliment to me. Beneath those stones, lie potential. People who could have been more; done more. They probably didn't because they thought they had tomorrow. They thought that they had the luxury of procrastination. Well, you know how that story ends.

I am not really bothered about what people will think of me when I die. Or what legacy I would have left behind. I just want to know that I have fulfilled my purpose on earth. I believe that God fills us with so many gifts, so that we can bless those around us, and leave whatever little section of the world that we are in, a little better than we met it. Your gift might be charity, encouragement, writing, public speaking… Whatever you are equipped to do, do it with all your heart and all your might and all your soul. As though you are doing it for God. I don’t know when I will die, but I hope I live very long. Long enough to grow as a person, to see my children grow and to see their children grow. To enjoy a wholesome life with my husband. Whenever it is that I die, I hope my husband’s heart will be right with God, and that mine will be too; so that when this road ends for us, we will look forward to being together again in heaven. I want to be able to say, “I have finished with this world, I am ready to go home to my God and the heavenly saints”.

It's a new year!

It's amazing how fast 2014 flew by. I remember moments of it so vividly it's almost like yesterday. Oh well, I'm grateful to be alive and well. I'm grateful for God's mercies in my life. I'm thankful that I have hope. Hope that God is still at work, and my latter days will always be better than the former.

I stopped making resolutions a few years ago. What's the point? I make them, I break them and then I feel guilty. Now, I follow a pretty straight forward approach.

1. Be a better person this year. Drop at least one bad habit.

2. Learn to love and trust God more this year

3. Be a blessing to people around me

4. Forgive more quickly. Love more deeply.

5. Be the best partner I can be to my husband and the best mom to my son.

6. Be more disciplined.

This is a rough sketch of my 'non-resolutions'! I sincerely pray this year brings joy to the saddened heart, peace to the troubled soul, healing to the ailing body&heart, laughter to every heart and home. Be blessed!

My one year anniversary!

I find it hard to believe that it has been exactly one year since my last seizure. It's crazy how time flies. I am too emotional to write anything meaningful, but I'll be back. I really want to scream out loud. I want to spend my evening giving praise to God. I'm looking back with gratitude to God and looking forward with hope!

Be back soon!

My tremendous three!

This morning, I just got up, got dressed and left home. Didn't really have a destination in mind. I had to just leave home. I spend so many hours with my son and while I love the little munchkin and the time we spend together, I still need some alone time.
Anyway, I end up doing some Christmas shopping. I had lunch and decided to write out the things I hoped for in 2015. This is something I've done every year for 6 years. I don't know why, but I didn't do it last year. I like the exercise because it allows me review the year at the end of it and see the things I should be thankful for. And it's also a good way to watch as my priorities change with time.

I've drawn up a 3 page list (it's a small notebook! ) and I'm excited for next year! I start to think of my friends. I have tons of people in my life. What do you expect? I went to 3 high schools and I was pretty popular. I went to an awesome university and I definitely wasn't a wallpaper. I have been around a lot and wherever I go, I add on names to my friend list. I'm going to use friend here to signify people who I am happy to know. People who I can pick up my phone and have a good chat with. People who I would invite to parties, hang out with etc. This list is pretty long.

I'm here, scribbling the names of people who are my friends and it's funny that there are only 3 people who really know me. These people know the worst things about me. One of them, has experienced a lot with me. You really don't want to be a shared enemy, because we will destroy you. Lol.

These wonderful ladies are awesome because we fool around, make fun of ourselves and of people and we support each other with everything. The fun part is we are not a group of friends. I'm the common denominator. They know of each other but don't have a relationship of any kind. I think that's why it works. Group dynamics are way too complex. I've been there, trust me. And we pray together and for each other. That's a beautiful thing.

And I love how we all have different strengths. One of them is my voice of reason. If I go to her to confess something horrible I did, she will laugh at the ridiculousness with me. She will tease me, but she will always tell me the truth. She will tell me I've screwed and she will guide me towards fixing it. I admire that. She tells me what I need to hear, but she listens to my crazy rants. I love her with all my heart.

Then number two is awesome because she is many things to me. She is like an older sister. You should hear how she scolds me. I love her mum with all my heart and she will forever be special to me. Her mum taught me faith and held me in her heart and prayers through loss and sickness. That happened because my friend wore my grief. She is constantly praying for me and my family. We share each other's high's and low's. We have cried through loss, rejoiced at good news, laughed at our helplessness in certain situations. When I'm being silly, I hear her voice in my head and it causes me to rethink. We skipped being birthday mates by hours! Even though she is brutally honest with me, I love her and how principled she is. I love her kids with all my heart and she loves my son with all her heart. If anything ever happened to me, I know she will be there always for my son. She's the most loyal person I know. I'm privileged to have her as a friend. Why am I tearing up? Ok... ok... you get the gist.

Then number three. We are thick as thieves.  Our friendship started off like lightening. Like two naked wires sparking off. And just as it started, it dulled. I have no recollection of the events that dulled it, but yeah a couple of years passed and we lived our separate lives. One day, we started again. It was awesome and she made me see why I loved her in the first place. We have secrets and we have history and we have a gazillion memories. I love how we have grown together. We still have our crazy, but we are adults, moms, wives. We support each other, we are the two heads that are always better than one. We gently nudge each other in the right direction. Together, we have no shame. All there is, is love and understanding. She's the one friend I have who can literally swap lives with me. We instinctively have the same reactions to many things. When I hear her say some things,  I laugh cos it's like listening to myself. We have the same loves and the same vices. I love it!

As 2014 wraps up, I raise my glass to these beautiful women who have added color and value to my life. I love them and I thank God that I am privileged to call them friends. I hope that I can be half the friend to them as they are to me. I don't know if this last line makes sense but I'm out of here!

I wish I could Write

I wish I could write. There is too much going on in my big fat head. I lie in bed some nights thinking, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Sometimes, I drift in and out. Not fully awake but not fully asleep. Somewhere in between. Then I start to think. I start to create scenarios. What if I had made xxx choices at xxx times, where would I be now? Is there really anything like destiny? Why did God give me free will?

I think about my bad choices. Why did I kiss that guy I met at Chocolate Royal cafe? It wasn't as though I liked him. I just did. He wanted me to kiss him, so I did. This thought leads to several other thoughts that lead to the revelation: I have kissed a lot of people I never really liked! I have smiled a lot of fake smiles. I have said so many "sorry's" I didn't mean. I have said, "I'll miss you" when in my head, I'm saying, "get the hell outta my face". I have even cried when in my heart I didn't feel a thing. What kind of person does this make me? I honestly wish I cared.

It's weird cos sometimes I am concerned about how people feel, so I watch what I say to them and how I say it. Other times, I don't give a rat's ass! Sometimes, I am patient and kind and considerate. Sometimes, I am cold, unfeeling, mean. I can count how many people I love. I love them differently and with different parts of my heart. I don't know if they all love me back. I don't love people because I want them to love me back. I love them because I love them. Just because. The people I love can hurt me. They are the only ones whose stabs can kill me. That's why I don't love everybody. I don't want to die young.

Destiny. I can't say I know what that means. Is it my destiny to be a mom to Lucas and a wife to Nathan? I don't know. If I hadn't come to Canada to school, where would I have met Nathan? If I left Canada in 2012 how would we have Lucas? If I had married that Igbo guy who wanted to take me to "Spen" what kind of life would I have now? When it comes to destiny, I don't know. One thing I do know, is that we have the freedom to make choices. Those choices have consequences and it is those consequences that we live out everyday. But then, shit happens. You make choices, you do your best, but sometimes, shit just happens!

If I could write, I would write pages and pages of shit. Bad shit, beautiful shit. Just shit that goes on in my head. The shit I think about when people around me are talking shit.

Oh well... I'm out!

Once upon a time...

Last night, I was going through my son's closet and suddenly became overwhelmed with emotion. You see, about a year and half ago I had a miscarriage. It is probably one of the most horrible experiences of my life. It felt like I had locked up my dreams in a glass globe and someone just picked it up and smashed it! I had been married for 3 months when we found out. Words will never express our excitement. We started dreaming, planning...

I did everything and more. Folic acid, hospital visits, veggie shakes, I even joined a pre-natal class! I'd be walking down the street, and my mind will be so far away. I constantly seemed to be dreaming. Dreaming of the miracle growing inside me. Of how much love we would shower on this child. There was no need to think of names, we already had name options. We started dreaming of what part of Toronto we wanted to move to. We lived in this really tiny apartment and there was no way we could bring a third person in.

Then, I went for my first scan and it all went downhill from there. I cannot write down everything I felt. To do so feels to me like giving up the only keepsake I have from that dream. My head felt heavy. I felt sick to my stomach. I felt so much inside but most of all, I felt numb. I just wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there. I could not cry. If a truck hit me at that moment, I probably wouldn't have felt it. I turned to my husband and I wanted to kick him so hard. He wasn't crying. How could he not be crying?  The whole ride home, we sat in silence. He held my hand.

I crawled into my bed and that was when I cried. As I cried, I kept asking myself what I did or didn't do.  I had recently written a story about a couple who lost their baby. Immediately, I cursed at myself for writing that. I hated myself for always writing morbid stories. If only that story had been a happy one, maybe my child wouldn't have left in anger. Or maybe it was because I attended a funeral. Why did I look at death when I had life growing in me? So many crazy thoughts crossed my mind. I blamed myself over and over again. Then people started calling me. That was another horrible experience. People think I am strong. And sometimes, I feel like I have to not disappoint them. So I went through the motions. Pretending like all was well. Pretending like I had accepted it all. And they believed me. Every single one of them.

My husband slowly started to express his own emotions. The one line he said that stuck with me was, "all of a sudden, everywhere I turn, I see babies. I think my greatest emotion is disappointment." It was when I knew that he also suffered inside that I forgave him. I don't think I can say we grieved together. But we stood together through each others grief. I bled for 6 weeks. Every time I looked at my blood, my heart broke all over again.

My son, Kandu, is a beautiful boy and such a delight. I still look at him and wonder if this is all a dream. I cannot imagine my life without him. However, I will never forget the one that got away.

I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired!

Living in a developed country has a billion perks and maybe a thousand downsides. I don't care to go into details of pros and cons. Just want to talk about the way we walk on eggshells here. I appreciate a lot of the courtesies, and I have learnt to speak more conservatively and respectfully.

In my home country, people call people fat. They use words like retard and imbecile to refer to people with autism. Mental illness is more often than not summed up as madness. Depression and anxiety are laughed at. In fact, in the face of this blatant ignorance, the people living with mental health problems begin to question the reality of their illness.

People don't say "hard of hearing" or "visually impaired". People don't use words like "attachment parenting", "baby-led weaning" (baby led? Parents see themselves as the potters and the babies as the clay. Ain't no baby leading nothing!). People don't go to their kids games to cheer both teams. They keep scores and they cheer for their kids (not necessarily the team! ). The list is endless!

Coming from that background,  I must say I have done a good job, learning, unlearning and relearning. However, on some days like today, I just want the freedom to tell this lady next to me to grow some balls! I just want to scream that it's rather immature to tell a bunch of people to stop discussing their parenting methods because said methods make you feel bad.

In her opinion,  only evil parents let their children cry it out and soothe themselves to sleep. This thinking in itself is completely valid. To each his own, right? However, it's incredibly silly and even bratty to tell a group of adults to stop their conversation because it bothers you. I want to scream, "There's a door. Use it". Instead, in keeping with western world courtesies, I will smile, confirm that irreparable damage hasn't been done to her sensitivities and use the door myself. 

Being polite is exhausting. I'm tired. Bloated from all the swallowed words.

Flying without wings

While doing our (baby, daddy and I) bedtime ritual, my mind wandered to an amusing time in my life. A time that seems now, like lifetimes away. I was rocking my son and singing to him. I started out with Boundless Love, Blessed Assurance, Amazing Grace, (he should have slept, but no!) Pour my love on you... I ran out of sweet gospel melodies and dug into my FGGC music competition playlist. Santa Lucia, Edelweiss... then R&B. I started singing Westlife's Flying without wings and that was when it happened. 

I was 16 and had a massive crush on a certain guy. Let's call him Dude. So Dude was 10 years older and was (at the time) everything I hoped my first boyfriend would be. And yes, he was my 1st boyfriend. I remember all the sneaking around. The countless lies to get out of the house and go hang with my beau. The way he taught me how to kiss. Bottom lip... upper lip... then the tongue (and pls no teeth!). I remember the way my heart beat so fast when he touched my breasts the 1st time. I thought I'd have a heart attack. Errmm... how did we progress from lips to boobs? We listened to music a lot, and at the time, one of our favorites was Flying without wings. Now, it is not clear whether it was 'our' favorite or MY favorite, but who cares?

As I sang that song to my little boy, I laughed at the folly of youth. At 16, what was I thinking when I listened to that song? Did I look at Dude and think I was in love? I still know the lyrics. Every single word. Incase you've never heard it, pls click here for the video/lyrics. Follow me, as I break down some of the lyrics.

"...You'll find it in the deepest friendship
The kind you cherish all your life..."

Really? How deep could that friendship have been? As for cherishing it for the rest of my life, I don't know about that! Haven't seen or spoken to Dude in at least 12 years.

"...Well, for me it's waking up beside you
To watch the sunrise on your face
To know that I can say I love you..."

I definitely remember lying in my bed and dreaming of what it would be like to wake up beside Dude every morning. I used to tell myself that he was too perfect. he would never have morning breath or any such imperfection and his farts would smell like potpourri. Yeah yeah yeah... 

"...And you're the place my life begins
And you'll be where it ends..."

I am thankful that God wasn't paying me any attention cos my life is just getting interesting! Imagine it had ended then! What an empty and uneventful life it would have been. Oh well,I guess when you're 16, you think that you're all grown up and living it up is not wearing school uniforms, wearing badly applied makeup, wearing tampons, not having a curfew, perming your hair, hiding to drink a bottle of Guinness (horrible tasting shit!), having a boyfriend, kissing, talking about kisses and dreaming about sex... These were the things 'grownups' did and therefore as a young girl doing them felt like I had arrived. Ridiculous.

Remembering that episode in my life was funny. I actually laughed out loud. The funniest memory of that relationship was our first and only valentine's day. I wasn't sure if he would get me anything and so didn't want to get him something and risk looking silly, so I went to his house empty-handed. Got there and his cousin told me he wasn't home. I waited for what seemed like forever. I think I even fell asleep on the couch. I felt a tap on my back and woke up. There he was. My handsome boyfriend (lol). He had a huge bag of precious little things for me. I don't remember all of it, but I remember the teddy bear and the Cerutti 1881. He attached funny one-liners to every thing in that bag. I hugged him and knowing me, I bet I cried. Lol. I can proudly say my first big girl valentine's day was a great one. 

That's that. Now, everytime you hear that song on the radio, I bet you'll think of me! Hahaha!

Did you marry your best friend?

Isn't it funny how we say, "I married my best friend"? I asked my husband yesterday, "Who is your best friend?" Without thinking, he said, "Trevor". I asked myself the same question and my answer is and has been Uju. So does that mean that we are not well suited? Cos I see all these couples who say, I married my best friend and I wonder why I am the only one who didn't have a best friend she decided to marry. 

When I started dating my husband, we connected so well that in a month we probably knew as much about each other as our best friends knew about us. Then we progressed and we got married. Now, two years into that marriage, we know things about each other that nobody else knows. So maybe,  when people say, "I married my best friend", that's what they mean. Maybe best friends are the people who know things about us that nobody else knows. 

On friends, I need to write another post on that. We have different friends who serve different purposes in our lives and who we reach out to at different times. I wish there was a shorter word for random friends. Acquaintances is too damn long!

Random #2

He couldn't keep driving. This was beyond the 5 second random itch. It was intense. He pulled into a strip mall's parking lot. There was a convenience store. Maybe they sold condoms. He thought to himself, why didn't I keep her waiting an extra 30 minutes? A short detour to the pharmacy would have saved him from this messy situation. Scratch. Scratch. He couldn't stop scratching. He unzipped his pants and cranked up the AC. Oh Evelyn! 
He dreaded going home to Rebecca. She must be a witch, he thought. She always knows what's going on with me and with everyone else. Father God, deliver me from Evelyn and whatever this is that she has passed on to me!