Mommy dearest

Hola peeps. Alles lekker? Good. So my brother arrived from Nigeria last week Wednesday and hands me a letter from my mom. To y’all who don’t know my mom loves writing letters. If letter writing were an Olympic event my mom would be a gold medallist several times over. So here I am reading stuff and then I’m stopped in my tracks by them-is-fighting-words words.

A li’l background: my mom’s birthday was on the 15th and since my younger siblings returned to Nigeria on the 14th I sent a gift to her. I called Lagos on the 14th to make sure they got home okay. Spoke to them and then they hand the phone to my mom. First thing I hear is: “Tunde, I don’t know what I’ve done that makes u treat me this way. U send gifts to ur friends and family and don’t send squat to me.” At this point I assume that my sister hasn’t handed her her gift. I tell her that I did send something through my sister and maybe my sis’s waiting ‘til a day later – her birthday – to give her the gift. She says “Yes, she told me you sent me a present, but I assumed that’s for my birthday. Couldn’t u have also sent a token gift or something?” Now I’m pissed. I ask her if in the past I haven’t sent stuff to her whenever anyone’s departing the UK for Nigeria. I tell her that her birthday coincided with my siblings’ return to Nigeria and that was why I sent one gift. So now y’all understand the type of relationship my mom and I have? Good. Back to the story…

She conveys through the letter that she’s not particularly keen about the present I sent. U see every year I usually send her some perfume but I thought I’d be a good son this year and put a li’l effort into her gift, so I got her a very nice bathroom products combo thingy that costs about the same as perfumes I normally get. Hey, it’s the thought that counts!. According to her: “….I know the stuff’s expensive but I would have preferred some perfume or something else….” Arrrggghhhhh! What’s a son to do? Some weeks before her birthday I sent a letter through a friend and specifically asked her what she wanted for her birthday. She didn’t acknowledge this. Maybe it’s one of those things women do when they want to test how much u really care about them. She doesn’t gimme a clear answer on what she wants as a birthday present so I get her something I think she’d like and all I get is grief. Reminds me of when I was younger. This woman will say something along the lines of “Tunde, which of these outfits do u think I’d wear, the red one or the white one? What’s that u said? U like the red one? But what’s wrong with the white one? Nah, I think I’ll wear the white one.” See what I’m saying? If she’d made up her mind already on what to wear why should she disturb me when I'm watching TV?

My mom loves to be the centre of attention. I know new born babies that don’t crave as much attention as she does. She reminds me of a line from one of my fav songs of all time. How many of u remember When Doves Cry by Prince? Remember the chorus? “….maybe I’m just like my father, too bold…..maybe I’m just like my mother, she’s never satisfied……”. That’s exactly how I feel most times. Man, I gotta give my dad major props for having the tenacity to cope with her, his other wives, and his girlfriends all these years. Guess they don’t make men like they used to, huh? Huh ha huh ha huh.

Seriously though, my mom can be the nicest person in the world and all my mates talk about how nice she is…..like they’d know! It’s just that sometimes one wishes she didn’t always shoot from the hip. Tact is a word that’s not in her vocabulary. She’ll embarrass the hell outta her kids, anywhere, anytime. U know how most chicks (in the movies anyways) talk about why they wanna marry guys like their dads? It’d be bliss if my wife turns out to be the complete opposite of my mom. Okay, that's not true. If my wife possessed my mom’s culinary skills, but not other aspects of her makeup, I’d be an even happier bunny. Maybe that’s why I’ve never been attracted to Ibo girls ‘cos my mom’s Ibo. Subconsciously, I musta tried to avoid anyone whom I suspected could have a smidgen of my mom’s idiosyncrasies. Like I mentioned earlier, I’d give countless cases of times she’s embarrassed me, but I suppose I’ve done the same to her at one time or the other. In retrospect, she musta felt she was doing the right thing not knowing she was scarring me, literally. Y’all know the scar on the back of my neck, how do u think I got that? It was one of those instances where she was about to whup my ass and I tried to escape. While trying to grab hold of me by the scruff of the neck her fingernails drew blood. I fumed and asked if she admired her handiwork. She deadpanned, “now u can tell ur kids that intransigence only leads to hurt”. ‘Cos of that sorry episode I still know what intransigence means. So y’all are now my witnesses. My mom says she’d prefer perfumes the next time I wanna get her a gift. Sad thang about that is she’s a perfume connoisseur, so could probably figure out the cost of any perfumes I get her. Then I’d be forced to listen to a diatribe about how I spend pittance on her, but much more on my girlfriends. What’s a guy to do?

Hey, u remember 2 blogs back when I told y’all about the new love of my life? Well, I’m falling deeper in love with her everyday. Peeps, this isn’t me. I’m all love-struck and tongue-tied when I’m around her. I’m not being arrogant but I’ve never doubted if I was ever good enough for a chick. With Miss Jolie - my nickname for her - I sometimes wonder what she sees in me. Honest. Now I know what Lionel Richie, Babyface and Brian McKnight have been singing about all these years. She’d be The One, I tell u. As my loyal readers I’d to let y’all know. I can't hide it anymore. It’s so bad, I find myself writing poems now. Yeah, me, a frigging poet! My body of work is already so large Tupac’s mom is starting to get jitters. I’m sure this love’s gonna rival that depicted in that crap ass movie Titanic. Peeps are gonna write sonnets about this love; newly discovered planets are gonna be named after this love; peeps ar gonna regale their kids with tales about this love. Okay, I’m making y’all reach for the puke bag, huh? My bad, my bad. I shall elaborate more on “this love” next time. Tot ziens.