New blog is live

Here is the link to the new blog!

Hark, all!

Hey!!!

 So I fell off the face of the planet but now I am back. I have been working on so many new projects including moving to a new apartment, rediscovering my new crush for J-bae (also known as Jesus), building a new blog. Yup, i said it! We will be moving to a new domain. A new blog. A new space and there is more than enough room for us all. I am so excited! I have been unable to eat or sleep because of all the awesomeness coming up. I'm kidding, of course, i have been eating. In fact, i am eating right now. 

So hold your breaths because it's coming soon. Thank you to all my readers, all the support and encouragement. And thank you to my silent readers, even though you never comment...lol...i know you are out there and i appreciate you. 

The blog is set to be up before the end of September! And  you will be the first to know when it's up!
Please let me know if there's something you'd like to see on the new space; a new category or series!

Here's to new things, to old ones too and to the silent readers!

xx

Myth Buster: Marriage = Oatmeal sex

For some odd reason, marriage is known for the most awful things. Stuff like: conservative social gatherings, eating broiled fish for dinner, mandatory bonding with other married couples, life-altering kids, terrorist-like in-laws, the car of no one's dreams: a minivan (and if you are lucky the doors slide open with a button), purchases of granny-panties, endless arguments with this "cranky" person who is perpetually in your face. Let's take that from the top, so marriage has earned a reputation of rewarding you with a boring person who you go to boring events with, in a boring minivan, where you meet other boring couples, who like broiled fish too. Back home, you have to then muster up some energy to behold them granny panties and have oatmeal sex;  gray, bland, lumpy, boring sex and then fall into a dreamless sleep where you subconsciously struggle for the covers.

Marriage is NOTHING like this! Well, that's not entirely true. Marriage can be every bit of this, if it goes unattended and is allowed to drift. Really, it is what you make of it. You hold all the cards in determining what it's going to be. For example, the "granny-pannies", just don't buy them. Walk on by. Do fun stuff and find a wing-couple to do them with. If your partner is cranky, it's probably hormones, money, work-stress, sexlessness or some deeper issue you have to find out and deal with. Kids are fun......when they are asleep, i'm kidding. They are pretty cool and they give you an excuse to sit on playground swings and what not. I had so much fun on a see-saw sometime ago with a 2 year-old, then we counter-bullied a bully! We didn't actually do any bullying, i just stood next to her and he disappeared. As for the broiled fish and the minivan, i can't find any words of encouragement. Lol!

Now the sex. I would like to say these allegations against marital sex are all wrong. The sex, like marriage, is whatever you make of it. Sadly, media has fed us a lot of falsehood and now we have this misconception that marriage-sex is synonymous with insipid bumps. I disagree and if you do too, feel free to share below!

It's true that marriage is usually made up of two individuals who are in pursuit, hot or not, of something that adds to their accolades; a promotion, a job, kids, a manicure appointment, Kim K's life. Whatever it is, people are preoccupied chasing all sorts of stuff. So they only ever have sex at night (because, of course, they were at work all day), after their favorite show (because favorite show is before sex on the sex-schedule), in the dark (not sure the reason for this), in the missionary position (because she really really really is tired and he feels obliged to take the position because that's what married men do!), on the bed (because that's where married people have sex). And no one is judging, right? This is a safe space but sometimes our sex lives require a bit of tweaking, aye?

7 bullet points to Jollof Rice Sex (with some barbecue ribs and plantain on the side)

• Make sex a priority. Toss the sex schedule. Better yet populate the schedule a bit more. Saturday and Sunday mornings are available. 
• Switch up the positions! There are several apps in the Apple store, Blackberry world and Google play. Thank me later. 
• Don't get lazy with the kegels now! Here's a link to check out how to do it right. (Psst! Men, kegels can improve sexual performance! Link for you too.)
•  Lights on, drapes up or down! Preferably down. The day I saw my neighbors will never leave my head...*shivers* .The lights help visual stimulation and helps to highlight all flabs, handles and tuft. Which is good because that drives you right to the gym and to the wax table. 
• Underwear. I'm beginning to sound like a broken record. Buy some. 
• Ask and find out what the other person likes. 
• Not everytime the bed. Try the minivan. Enough said.

By the way, I love oatmeal. Love. Love. Love.  Read its benefits here

Daddy Issues

I once witnessed a new dad, pick up his new baby-boy and stare at him in the most unusual way. He didn’t smile or coo at his baby. He didn’t try to put his forefinger in baby’s vice-clenched fist. He just stared at him, expressionless. It wasn’t a stolen moment between father and progeny. It was an unrestricted instant of unguarded fellowship, to which I was a welcome intruder, nothing was exclusive, it wasn’t a bonding moment; nothing was intimate. 

Dad’s eyes were glazed over and distant as he held in his arms the proof of his fear; a fear which he had nurtured all these months. The fear of being cast away like an old antiquated doll. He had long been thrown out of their bed unto the sofa because his pregnant wife couldn’t quite get the right sleeping position. She had kicked and slapped during the night, lost in her pursuit for rest. She was sad when he moved to the sofa but quickly he was replaced with seven pillows. 

She didn’t want to go out anymore; more because she felt too “fat” and unfit for social escapades than anything else. He had come to see that one thing did get her out the door though….. shopping for baby. She already did that all day from the sofa, anyway. She typed and scrolled on her phone incessantly. She “added to cart” and “proceeded to check out” at least five times a day, comfortable in her large Ankara caftan (which he planned to burn soon). 

She had stopped making dinner and in fact all the other meals of the day. He had decided that wasn’t so bad, he wasn’t much of an eater anyway. 

All that mattered now was the baby and the baby’s meal plan, the baby’s closet and how they needed to move into a bigger apartment because of the baby. 

The baby. Hmmph! He remembered when he was her "baby”".

She seemed like all the world had to be stilled because of the incumbent. But not in a calming way, more like a muted frenzy. Almost like the day baby arrived, her life would start. All she had before that was just the stand-by life awaiting the arrival of baby. That’s what she called the incumbent; "Baby". And what did she call him, her husband, who she formerly called "Baby", "cupcake" and all variations of sweets: Daddy. She now called him "Daddy". She had read somewhere that calling him "Daddy" would set the tone for his new paternal duties and status. Also the baby would hear the word often and be aware from an early stage that the vibrations and phonetics in the word would make him certain of the security a father provided. Bull.

As daddy held baby in his arms, he seemed far away, stranded somewhere away from hope, floating somewhere so far below his expectations. 

Then baby cooed. As he opened his heavy eyelids to reveal the purest form of inquisitiveness, i watched daddy's expression melt like wax. The straight line in between his lips angled slowly, then unable to hold back, his lips drew back to reveal a toothy grin. This wasn't so bad. How could anyone complain with all this wonder emanating from one little being! He would gladly give up the name "Baby" for "Daddy" any day. 

******** 

A lot of men never admit it but they feel a bit left out when a baby is on the way or has just arrived. It's really not just because they feel ignored, it's more of a culmination of various changes that happen all at once and stand a chance of never returning to the way it was. For example, the way she wakes up and now reaches for baby first, who now sleeps in between them. The way she looks at baby. How sex is so far off the menu. How she no longer shops at Ann Summers but stands in line at Hamley’s. The lacy Victoria Secret’s have been shoved into the back closet and all she wears now are something that clearly has no secrets. It sounds a little selfish but who isn’t a little selfish with their partner. It's not like they aren't stoked becoming a dad but still they can’t help feeling like they have to scoot over from wife’s favorite chair. Plus, everyone tells them to be "Man about it". Being a man also requires getting some attention and affection too, right? 

Get over it and be like this guy! I'm kidding. But seriously though, this guy.

Long Distance Relationships: That Sweet Safe Spot

About 10 minutes into your long distance relationship (LDR), you’d quickly come to realize that your new location seems to be inundated with exceptionally attractive members of the opposite sex! There's one next door, one standing next to you on the bus, one at work, church too, one in class, one at the store, one at someone's 70th birthday celebration (they are everywhere, especially the most unexpected, dull places). Some of these people you probably wouldn’t notice if your significant other (sig-other for short) was near. Well, sig-other is not near and you do notice. This sudden awareness of other people, might be just a heightened sensitivity to the void left by sig-other. In other words, you are lonely and probably a little needy……physically, which is totally expected. 

However, let's just put it out there, you are expected to remain within the bounds of honesty, which is required by your relationship and also to remain within the bounds of your clothing, if you know what i mean. It's easy to say and much less easy to achieve. 

So imagine, you are at your friend's aunt's 70th birthday party (beware of those "harmless" parties). You were willing to go because, well, you had absolutely nothing else to do or because you are miserable about your new LDR status and this couldn't be any worse. Anyway, whatever your reason, there you are at this elderly gathering and then you see this really good-looking girl (who we can call I.D). You notice I.D and move on. After the party, your friend tells you he gave I.D your number because she asked for it. 
 You panic a little, being the careful boyfriend that you are. And then you self-pacify and tell yourself I.D won't call. Surprise! I.D calls. It's friendly and casual. You tell her you will keep in touch but you tell yourself you won't. You also conveniently forget to tell her you have girlfriend because it's "too much information" for a first "friendly" conversation. You do keep in touch with I.D (if you haven't figured it out yet, I.D is short for Inevitable Disaster). 

Something tells you you should tell your sig-other but you consider this trivial. Nothing dramatic ever comes out of casual acquaintanceship. An LDR is not prison, you are allowed to have friends, friends like I.D, you tell yourself.

In our LDR, we did have a sizable number of I.Ds. Aware that we were both human and admitting that promptly, we faced reality squarely. No one is immuned to slip ups, least of all LDRers. Also let me say this now, there will be attractions, like i said, heightened sensitivity to the void and all, and also because you are human and you don't live in a cave as a hermit. I tried living as a hermit once to avoid attractions but that didn't work out. These things have a way of finding you even in hiding. Lol! 

So how did we deal with crushes and attractions in a long distance relationship? One word. 

Transparency; the quality of being transparent. 

Transparent

/transˈperənt/ 
adjective
Having thoughts , feelings or motives that are easily perceived.

Being easily perceived is a little difficult in an LDR, so being transparent needs a little bit of effort here. It's more active than passive and it requires a certain amount of vulnerability and honesty.
So here's the fun part.

What we did was to be honest about developing attractions and crushes, if there were any at all. And there might have been one or two.

 “Are you crazy?” I hear you saying, “Why would I tell sig-other that I am attracted to someone else? That's LDR suicide.”

And you are right! It is suicide if not managed properly. Which brings me to constructive transparency. It's not just ok to be transparent but rather to be constructively transparent. This would mean being verbally honest with your motives and actions with your sig-other, with the intent of ensuring your relationship is successful both on the long run and short run. Of course, this includes being open to each other about I.Ds and undercover I.Ds (the ones who pose as your friends) and any other new happenings that might impact the relationship  adversely or otherwise. Doing this creates a safe spot in your relationship that fosters honesty and pinches off budding insecurities. 

As you eat your take-away cake from the 70th birthday celebration, you contemplate telling sig-other about I.D. There is  60% chance this would end in a fight, but isn't it worth it on the long run?

 What would you do? Would you tell sig-other?  Please drop your comments below!
P.s : This is a safe spot! Say it as it is.  x

Disclaimer: not every relationship is nuts enough to do this but every relationship should ensure the purest form of honesty it has the ability to attain.

Letters to my Greatgrand-daughter: Awesome in 30 seconds!!!!!

Dear Charly, 

There are a couple of words I hope you never hear; words like Ethnic cleansing, words like hate crimes, like caste-violence and racism. I hope you never see #blacklivesmatter, #arabuprising and #bringbackourgirls except in history. I hope you don’t live in a society where the muslim guy is avoided or the man with the collar is scorned and called a pedophile. I hope you live in a society that doesn’t stare at you strangely because of the kink of your hair. I hope your society genuinely embraces diversity and doesn’t stare at foreigners in disgust. I hope your society is void of that woman on the train who suddenly gets up and screams, “Go home” to the exhausted Tamil man miles from home in search of better opportunities. 

Those are my hopes for the society. For you, I hope you read this letter often enough. I hope you are a person who doesn’t crumble under societal pressures, i hope you aren’t a victim, better yet, I hope you don’t allow yourself to be a victim. I hope if they call you names, they just slide right off. I hope you are able to conduct yourself in a manner that is able to model who we are.

For you, i have these hopes but also i have some words. 
First, ensure that you understand your environment and the society in which you live in, Charly. Why? Because your society is constantly trying to understand you. Crazy and inpalpable as it might sound, your society (which is made up of people) is aware of your presence and is constantly evaluating your significance in the grand scheme of things. 
When people look at you, they will make a mental judgement in less than 30 seconds.
They judge you, and not through any fault of their own,really, but because of the natural God-given ability to make deductions  from limited information provided by your apparent persona. The human brain is able to process on average, 40 thoughts per minute; in 30 seconds, a stranger will have at least 15 thoughts about you, even if he doesn’t consciously register your face.
Yes, that’s what the human brain does, it judges. 

Imagine you are standing at a pedestrian crossing and a lone man looks up in your direction from his seat at an outdoor cafe.  His eyes rest on you for less than a minute. He is deep in thought and notices you but his gaze doesn’t linger. He has on a subconscious polite smile as his eyes go back to his newspaper.

Words like “black” would pop into his brain. Whatever he associates black with, will quickly be indexed beside your face in his head. Words like "happy". Words like “cleavage” (your cleavage better not be out, young lady, lol. seriously *straight face*), there aren’t too many words that can be associated with cleavage and we all know the first one. Right next to your face. Words like "slouch" would probably trigger the words "lazy" and "lethargic".You want to make a good impression always; every single waking moment. As a woman, the world probably takes you less seriously than they would care to admit, before you accept defeat and curl up into the mould they already set for you as tepid, inadequate and inept. Understand this - you are what you decide you are. Never ever settle for less than you can be. 

Here are the words you want them to think in that space of 30 seconds:

Achiever

Determined

Driven

Principled

Mysterious

Unusual

Talented

Intelligent

Fun

Ambitious

Responsible

Competent

You want his brain to re-echo them. You want to command respect in all situations, in all languages and in every geographic location. You want them to spend their 30 seconds meaningfully. Give them something to write home about. Literally, let the man outside the cafe say, "I saw a young woman today and she held my attention and my respect and she didn’t even have to say a word or bare a thigh to do it!" In your own way and style, be awesome and remarkable in 30 seconds. 

I wish we didn’t have to try so hard. However, history preceded us and ultimately left us with an opportunity (not a disadvantage but an opportunity) to rebrand ourselves the best way we know how and now everyday with our exquisite mien and dignified aura we will rewrite history, one man-outside-the-cafe at a time. 

Love,

Greatgran x

My Marvelous Eight. For Tosin Famakinwa (nee Phillips)

Yesterday, I stared glassy eyed at the barista as he made my hot chocolate. My throat was itchy and i knew I was going to cry if he said anything to me, however casual. He smiled at me and said something which my brain failed to acknowledge. Then he repeated it. Then he repeated it again. I couldn’t hear him, I couldn’t see him, my tears brimmed and clouded my vision and my sunglasses didn’t help either. Then his forehead creased and he asked, “Are you ok?”, clearly concerned. I smiled back at him and half nodded, half shook my head. Then the tears came.

I’m not always this emotional at the very sight of hot chocolate. You see, recently, I lost someone with whom I built thousands of childhood memories. She was very spirited. Very.  I remember her little arms flaying and wrapping around me and shoving me through her front door, enthusiastic about what she had planned for the day—whatever it was 8 year-olds have planned for the day. Lol.

Her cheeks dimpled eagerly and always preceded her smile. It was almost like those adorable cheek pits were the warning that announced her wide toothy smile. Her face just plain lit up. It was contagious, that smile.  

Whenever I saw her dad’s white car from my window, i’d run down the stairs bounding over three-at-a-time, out the door, up the drive way, out the gate and into her wide arms and then we’d dance around, like the silly kids we were. It was a wonderful period of my life and all I remember is a lot of sunshine and squeals.  We were 8 year-old's and if you had the opportunity of a pleasant friend at 8, you'd know what I mean. 

I’m pretty sure most Saturdays of my 8th and 9th year were spent with her. Now trying to remember what we spent our Saturdays doing; we played FLAMES!!!!! Who remembers that? You'd write your name above and the name of a boy beneath and cross out the letters you had in common, whatever was left was used to know your romantic situation. Lol! She taught me to always add the middle name, it made the experiment more weighty. Lol! Then, we played Name-Place-Animal-Thing. Yes, we were intellectual 8 year-old's. It was about paper, pens and text for us, albeit unscholarly. Then we'd play Life or Monopoly or Elewenjewe*! Then eat! She was a great foodie. It takes a certain kind of person to genuinely appreciate every bite of her meal; every flavor, individual and blended. Then we'd read a couple of Sweet valleys or Enid Blyton's. 

I would laugh at her scrawny writing and the precision with which she'd etch each curve and stick, like each word was a work of art that would earn an approving nod from Monet. She would laugh at the fact that I called a television— Telly. She was funny and vibrant, she had a good heart and you could see it from a mile. I haven't seen her in a while but I remember her heart and that's good enough for my memories.

Then one day, just a couple of days back, she left. She just left. I'm not going to whine about how she didn't say bye or how this is goodbye or isn’t. I am honored to have shared my pure, formative years with you,Tosin. In heaven, we'd chill by the Fanta Chapman river and play Life again or cards. #teamelewenjewe. Lol. 

I love you, Tosin. Thank you for painting "8" irrevocably marvelous. 

13 Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. 14 For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. 15 According to the Lord’s word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. 16 For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. 17 After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. 18 Therefore encourage one another with these words. 

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18New International Version (NIV)

*Elewenjewe: let's just call it that endless card game