motherhood – Mimi's Thoughts

Macaroni Surprise

Macaroni, a kind of pasta shaped like tiny curved tubes, but where I’m from, any pasta that isn’t spaghetti is called macaroni. I don’t know why. I guess it’s just one of those things that get renamed by some people.

My son, SonTer, loves macaroni, so I make sure I have enough and a variety of “macaroni”.

I have five months till he goes to secondary boarding school.

Yesterday I was doing some thinking and told myself I would be intentional about the time we have left. One sweet thing a day, wish me luck here.

He loves surprises, no matter how little. So for his school lunch today, I packed for him a “macaroni” surprise.

What was in my “macaroni” surprise?

Cavatappi – twisted, ringed and longer than macaroni
Farfalle – ribbon shaped
Penne – straight tubes, wider than macaroni tubes
Fusilli – twisted like a screw
Conchiglie – shell shaped

I’ve never cooked more than one pasta in a meal for him before. I have only done that in my salads and he’s not a fan of salads so I doubt he has ever seen it.

I dropped him off at school and I’ve been at work, smiling at myself, imagining his reaction when he opens his plate to find what I made.

One day win.

pic courtesy; facts.net

Prepare me Lord

A couple of weeks ago I saw a video that my childhood friend posted on Instagram.

I immediately began to sob.

I knew I had just one year to go through what she was going through.

It was a video of her son, walking away…into his new school (boarding school). He would be gone till December.

Accompanying the video was a little note; ” Wow, I wasn’t prepared enough for this emotionally. Life truly is in phases. My not so lil Dee Boi🥰🥰. I love you my child and I pray to God Almighty to shield, protect and shape you into greatness”.

Next September I will have to watch my boy walk away too.

God I need you to prepare me.

I can’t do it alone.

Son’s Day Off

I am pretty firm with my son when it comes to enforcing morals and values.

I dare say I’m hard on him…I think I’m acting from a place of fear. Fear that he may miss it somehow. I think I know where this fear emanates from… Actually I know but it’s kind of personal.

As the years passed and it began to look like he may be an only child, I just knew I couldn’t relent on the matter.

Last night I told him I was giving him a day off. 😂

A day without any chores. A day where I wouldn’t double check anything he does. A day with no screen time limit and no strick bed time.

You see, for the rest of the world, children are celebrated on the 20th of November and also 1st of June in some countries. Here in Nigeria, children are celebrated on the 27th of May.

So today, I didn’t insist on dining table breakfast, I actually served him breakfast in bed. I plan to take him out to lunch and then order take-out for dinner. These are the kind of things he loves.

He turns 10 in a few weeks…double digits… Yaaaaaaaaaaay. I think I might just give him another day off then.

… But come tomorrow, everything goes back to normal. 😁

So, while my son is having a fabulous day, I wish all children do have their kind of fabulous day too.

Happy Children’s Day.

Mother

Happy mother’s day JMS.

JMS – Josephine Mbatomon Shango.

My cousins, sisters and my husband use JMS especially when we want to talk about her special traits… Most of them are listed in I’m just younger.

Thank you for for making me the mother and woman that I am today. I’m really enjoying who I am. I owe most of it to you.

Thank you for all the sacrifices, most of which I didn’t realise till I became a mother.

As you read this dear mother, know that I appreciate you.

💜 You deserve all the Purple hearts I can give.

Change is sure

For a while now I have been thinking a lot about my friend Dooyash, the friend I wrote about in What kind of mum are you?

We have been friends for as long as I can remember, we started nursery school together at age 4. We were also roommates in our final year in university.

Dooyash lived on Golden morn. A breakfast cereal which she had at any time of the day.

Lately my son, who has never liked Golden morn…ever, has suddenly fallen in love with it. It’s why I think of Dooyash these days.

SonTer never liked anything that even tasted like breakfast cereal. I remember how he used to feign puking whenever I fed it to him. The last time I tried was the day he froze and feigned shock for a few seconds…he is dramatic…like his mum.

This sudden love for something he never liked makes me realise, nothing stays the same… everything and everyone is subject to change.

What kind of mum are you?

My childhood and long time friend made a post on Instagram about a week ago. I can’t get over the post. Why? Because I didn’t like my answer to the question.

A screenshot of her post: ⬇️

I’m a sit on the side, cheer the kids, refuse to participate in parent/children activities kind of mum at kiddies parties.

Why did I not like the answer?

Because deep down inside, i want to play and dance and have fun with the kids and participate in the parent/child games.

Then why the heck not? I honestly don’t know.

What kind of mum are you at kiddies parties?

I’m just younger

I find joy in my own company.

I mentally plan my alone time activities and I execute them. I frown when anyone or anything interrupts.

I dont like being disrespected.

I cry when I’m happy, I also cry when I’m sad. I just cry.

My skin glows and I look pretty even without making any effort.

I love company and then I get fed up when it goes on for too long.

I am fascinated by well spoken and written English.

I am a DIY lover.

I’m a sanguine with family and friends. To the stranger, I am antisocial.

I love my nails.

I have a nonexistent temple hair problem.

I have a very thin line between between love and indifference…it just takes one last straw to cross it.

My mom is all this too.

I am my mother’s daughter…

I am my mother, I’m just younger.

Ash Wednesday

When you are around children, you find yourself answering all kinds of questions. Some of these questions require some research of your own because they have a way of asking about things you thought you knew but really, you don’t.

With my 9 year old son, its one question after the other every day. He is one curious kid. And just like I wrote in Questions, I used to be afraid of questions, but now, I look forward to them.

Today’s question was really good for me. I loved it.

We were on our way to school early this morning, around 7:30am, when i saw a swarm of people walking out from a nearby catholic church. I realised the swarm was a lot larger than the usual morning mass one. Then it hit me, it was Ash Wednesday. It always fell on the Wednesday just before Terver’s (my husband) birthday.

I didn’t realise I had spoken my thoughts out loud, but as soon as I heard the question; “Mummy what is Ash Wednesday”?, I knew that I had.

Growing up catholic is something that I have always loved. Even though I no longer go there, a part of me has always remained with the Catholic Church. Every year, I look forward to Lent.

Ash Wednesday is the first day of lent. On this day, practicing Catholics (and some other Christians) smear ashes on their foreheads as a symbol of their immortality (dust to dust, ashes to ashes) and also a way of imbibing the ashes and sackcloth method as a show of repentance and humility.

The period of Lent (40 days – Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday) is a period of sanctification, a time to pause and reflect. A time, to abstain from things that may prevent us from communing with God. These things differ from person to person. For me it may be anger, for you it may be food. For another it may be alcohol, bitterness or anything else.

As I explained this season to my son, I realised how teachings have dwindled. I wondered how many people had ashes on their foreheads just because it was expected. I guess I will never know.

I only hope that many get to enjoy and feel Gods presence throughout this Lenten season.

Have a happy Ash Wednesday.

In her pocket

My mom is a mother of four girls. She started the proud trips for the beautiful tradition called Omugwo in 2001 when my eldest sister had her first child, Suur.

Omugwo is an Igbo term for a tradition where a mother, a mother in-law or any close female relative or friend goes to give post-partum care to a new mother and the new born baby. Although this is of Igbo origin, many tribes in Nigeria have quietly adopted and begun to practice this tradition. Most mothers do this with so much pride, they prepare and plan and upon arrival, begin to do ALL the duties in the home while the new mother and baby rest.

Omugwu is not for the lazy or faint hearted. It is expected that whoever takes upon this responsibility is skilled and knowledgeable in the care and handling of new babies and the new mother.

My mother has eight grandchildren. She didn’t make it to all the Omugwu visits, but when she did, she really turned up. She is the kind of woman who gets everything around her done without lifting a finger. I don’t know how she does it, she just does.

One sure way she has always handled her Omugwo was financially. You could be sure that she was going to make sure everything needed was made available. All she needed was to overhear anyone talking about something that was lacking. She always started with; “How much is it?”

She has not had a chance to make any of those visits for almost a decade. Her last two grandkids will both be ten years old this year…but I know that if she were to ever make an Omugwo trip again, she would gladly turn up with all her support in her pocket.