If I Tell You Once, I Will Nag You Twice...(GLORIA)

When I was growing up, I wondered why my mother shouted so much. I would watch her as she entered the house from a long day at work as she still managed to scream at me, the two house helps and my brother all before she put her bag down on the dining table and entered the kitchen. She would then get a glass of water and complain about how much her head hurt and start shouting at everyone all over again. My dad on the other hand would be in his study watching the news or some other political show blissfully unaware of the verbal war occurring downstairs. At the time I wondered why my mum couldn’t be more like my dad! Surely she too must be interested in the news!

Alas! Now I am older and wiser and I realize that the apple really hasn’t fallen far from the tree. I now see clearly why my darling mother screamed tirelessly at us when we were growing up. Far from what we thought back then, she actually didn’t enjoy shouting. She screamed because we hadn’t done any of the things she had told us to do before she left the house. She was at her wits end because despite telling us to make our beds and do certain chores before she got home, we had either waited till we heard the sound of her car horn at the gate before we hurriedly did them incorrectly or had totally forgotten to do any of them at all.

Today I watch men backbiting about how their wives, partners or girlfriends are such nags. “Must they ‘talk’ about everything”, “they ‘complain’ too much”, “my girlfriend is such a ‘nag’”, they say in a high and lofty manner.

Well ladies, I have come to your defense! Anytime your man calls you a nag or complains about how much you complain, I want you to show him this article.

You see life is made up of both actions and reactions. For everything you do in this life there is usually a response, this is true – whether you realise it or not is a different issue. Generally, we females aren’t mad. We don’t wake up in the morning and start screaming just for the sake of it. We weren’t told that yelling at the top of our lungs makes us beautiful. No! Rather it is you men that are driving us crazy! If I say to you once or twice in the sweetest voice possible, “baby, please could you put the ketchup back in the fridge after you use it” and you don’t. How is it that I am labeled the chief commander for the complaints ministry when you continually fail to do so? Surely if there is anyone with a problem here it is you. Simply put, if you men just did what you were supposed to do, how and when you were supposed to do it, there would be no complaints. Shikenah!

If your wife says “Darling, please put Junior to bed so I can do the washing up” and two hours later you are still watching Match of the Day and Junior has poured water colour all over the rug she just cleaned, you can bet your bottom dollar she will YELL! If your girlfriend says to you “Baby, you’ve changed, you don’t call me as much” and you don’t start calling her or offer plausible reasons why your calls have decreased and she complains it’s not her fault. It’s YOURS!

What men have to realise is for everything you do to us, we have a response. And no, you don’t get to choose what type of response we give. It is unfair to upset your partner and still expect them to give you a kiss while they explain in a loving voice what you did wrong! When if you had done what we asked in the first place, or told us there and then that there would be a problem doing what we asked, there would be no nagging. So the moral of this article is simple. Next time you are about to call your partner a nag, just try retracing your steps to exactly what you were meant to do…..and you would find that the problem would be easily solved.

We women are really not that difficult to understand. And yes, you can thank me later

WHAT IF!!!!

What if i just woke and realized and was told that everything about me was all a dream and that ave been sleeping and i've not even been born to life but there happens to be another life where i wake!! The horror of knowing everyone i've always known will change.......Even God!! Heaven Forbid! But what if!! What If!!

WHAT IF!!!
So I probably have Michael Adenuga as my Dad when i wake up..That would be financially awesome!

Tope(my sis) would probably be a chic i see in my razz area that i might not even send...

Mumsie would probably be a colleague of an aunty who always attempt to pull my lovely low cleavaged tops up to hide my cleavage, cos according to her," what are u trying to sell". Then i will give her a killer look that says,"are u my mother"..
Aunty Tokunbo will definitely be a teacher in my secondary school who likes me so much so dashes me some pass mark that will elevate me from a C to a B.

Mummy Dapo would be my fav aunty anyday no matter what

As for Soye, i'm sure he will bribe God to come back to be my brother all over again.. Who better to annoy me most often than not! (I'm frowning just even thinking about it)
aah Hikmot, am sure will still annoyinly be my sister...who else will be able to handle her precarious and overzealously stubborn ways! God won't be that mean!

Uncle Goke would definitely be one of those managers in my office i will want to get close to so they can always trip me and my friends  to the best joints in the city. He'd be married of course!
Mummy Jay...(*smh*)....would definitely still be alive but probably still at the university and who i'd always wanna go visit cos she bakes for me and cooks for me. But i'd probably make sure to leave her room before Sunday morning so she won't force me to Church. lol
Titi..aaah.. will just keep being a bish who i will not be able to get rid of cos she'd probably come back as a cuzin who is my mate and who will definitely be my competetive mate in everything and who i will hate to love and love to hate..
Ayobami will probably be a family friend who i see once in a blue moon but when we see, we hit it off and speak Cockney English to each other to show off  who is doing well in our respective fields.
Ebi_Ela would be Ayobami's older sister who wishes we were closer but for some strange reasons, hell will probably freeze over first becos of her uppity attitude..
Claudette would be my team member at work..

Ben will probably still be my ex boyfriend who married my friend, Titi....They deserve each other cos they are both perfectionists.. lol

Kasope will be my immediate younger sister but i pray to be finer than her sha so i can torment her for life to boost her ego...
Ibukun Ajibola will be the daughter i had when i was 16 and i gave my mum to train..

Bankole will still be a colleague that will still keep on eyeing me without letting his feelings show....

Ebube will be my male best friend who i will love so much because he's gay.

Teju babyface and Paddy Adenuga will be my ex boyfriends that i hurt real bad....

Omisakin will be my first crush who i will get over when he scoffs at my crushy status and say, "Get a life shortie"...

Eniola will be the guy next door who will try to hook me up with friends of his that i will not like until.........
Seun Orija will be my school daughter in secondary school..

Garfield will come as a white terrier that i'd adore to pieces but he shall not be lazy and fat.....

Chiamaka will of course be my relationship counsellor....!

Michael Scoffield will be the guy i dated but couldn't marry because he can't speak Yoruba....


And aaaaaah, Folaranmi Alade will be that friend Eniola introduces to me and i feel it in my bones and the first words i say to him when he takes my hands in his and says Hello will be............."THIS IS IT"

Dealing with infidelity...A true story

I read this on the internet and thought it would be a great idea to share. I was moved to tears and as much as it made me hate the opposite sex, i can't help but thank God for giving me the Perfect Man....Yeah yeah, just say it.. I know i just sounded like the character in this story but hey, ma man's name definitely ain't Brian. Lol

When I was 38, I found out my husband was having an affair.
To answer your first questions: No, I never saw it coming. And if I could, I wouldn't go back and change what happened to us, for one simple reason: It has allowed our love, and our marriage, to reach levels they never would have otherwise.

Right now, everyone is consumed by Sandra Bullock and her plight: Should she stay, or should she go? Jesse is making the rounds on the morning shows, contrite. What I would tell Sandra is: Hang on, and don't make a rash decision in the moment. If the love was real, it can survive.
I won't pretend it's easy. It's a long road to recovery. And I know, because after living it, I wrote the book that I couldn't find out there to help people like me heal. I didn't want to read about cheating from some academic in an ivory tower. I wanted to hear answers from a real woman who'd lived through infidelity.
Now I have, and as the author of "My Husband's Affair Became the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me," I can tell you why Sandra or Silda or Hillary -- or millions of women you don't know by just their first name who feel the same pain -- are equally anguished by the decision of whether to walk out that door.

Here's what happened in my marriage, and why I'm still proud to call Brian my husband today
Brian and I had been married 18 years at the time of his affair. We had a strong marriage; that was safe to say. And I didn't see it coming at all. In fact, I distinctly remember the night I found out.
I was taking voice lessons, and I was in the car when that Toni Braxton song "Unbreak My Heart" came on. I was singing out loud and proud, the way you do in the car, thinking, This is such a great song, and it's right in my range. Oh, those words are so depressing, but I have such a great marriage. That could never happen to me.
When I got home that night, Brian said to me, "Anne, I have to tell you something." I went into complete shock.
There had been zero signs it was happening. And I'm now completely embarrassed by the first words that flew out of my mouth, which were "I forgive you."
Say what?! Now, I know that those words weren't acceptance; they were denial. But at the time, I thought if I just said them, we'd go back to our happy Cinderella life and I could pretend nothing had happened.
But no sooner had I said that than a totally different wave of emotion washed over me.
"Who is she?" I screamed. "Do I know her? Is she married? Does she have kids?" I needed to know who this woman was with every fiber of my being. Brian didn't know what to do. He didn't tell me. He just sat there, stoic, until he finally retreated up to bed. But I didn't sleep a wink. In fact, I sat there all night, awake, and didn't move until the morning light filtered into the room.
The next two days were pretty chaotic. I made a lot of threats and declarations. "You will never see her again," I told him a few days after he dropped his bomb. That was followed by a long, protracted silence, and despite the pain and the anger and the denial all mixed up in me, I realized this situation just wasn't that simple. He was going to see this woman again. He had feelings for her.
In fact, I think you could safely say my situation was worse than Sandra Bullock's: Brian wasn't contrite in the beginning. And, like Sandra and Jesse James, we also had the complicating factor of kids. Ours at the time were 16, 14 and 12.
By the time we finally had some time away from them, I had come up with an ultimatum: her or me.
"Make up your mind," I yelled. "I'm not going to share my husband with another woman."
And you know how some people react when they're in a corner with someone screaming at them?
"HER THEN," Brian roared right back.
He packed his duffel bag, left and went to a hotel. I spent two weeks believing that our marriage had ended.
And then one day, he came back.
"What are you doing here?" I asked him. "Are you here to visit, or are you home?"
What he said was, "I guess I'm home."
Here's the thing: That wasn't how I had imagined the thing that could never happen to me playing out. In my version, if your husband had an affair, and then he was sorry, he should get on both knees and beg, arms outstretched, holding flowers. That would be more appropriate. Why did I even leave this door open? I thought.
Convinced I was leaving, but still searching for answers, I called a good friend. "Anne, you have every right to leave this marriage, and if you want to, nobody will blame you," she said. "But I've seen you two together, and I know Brian loves you. I don't know what's going on right now, but I know he loves you. Don't make a decision yet."
And she was right about that: What was I going to do? Throw out my husband of 18 years and start dating someone tomorrow.
Within a week of Brian's telling me, we told the kids. They each dealt with it in their own way. But I won't sugarcoat it: As Brian puts it now, our oldest daughter, who has a really strong personality, pretty much "hated his guts" at the time. She watched me like a hawk, then she got hold of the other woman's number, and called her up and confronted her.

Then there was me and Brian and our personal roller coaster. His revelation came in May 2000. The next three months I define as Pure Chaos. From three to six months came the Period of Fighting. We tried to seek out professional help, but a lot of it wasn't really ... helpful. So we fought a lot, and what we were doing in the middle of that fighting was peeling our relationship apart like an onion and getting to the core to understand what had really happened between us.
What I needed answered -- what every woman needs answered -- is this: If you loved me, how could you do this to me?
But the answers you get in the first three months, or even the second three, aren't what we now call Truth.
Brian's Truth was that he just started a new career, and he was focused on that instead of our marriage. We'd just moved to a new area -- near Vancouver, right by the border -- and he didn't really have any good male friends he could talk to anymore. We were dealing with our kids moving into the Terrible Teens, and most of our new friends' kids were much younger, so we were alone in that phase. Then Brian's dad died.
None of these things, of course, excuse his behavior, but we also didn't understand how all of it had affected our relationship. And they are partial explanations of what led to Brian's affair. When he finally explained to me who she was and how it happened, he seemed almost as surprised by it as I was: He never saw it coming either, in the sense that he always thought an affair began with a blatant proposition. Instead, he said, it felt more like having a friend -- and then things went too far.

We also explored the ways in which we hadn't been connecting, just on a personality level. We talked for hours and hours. And more hours. And sometimes you have to face Truth that isn't easy to hear. For example, to hear that there was fun that Brian had had with this other woman that he wasn't having with me was excruciating. "I was unhappy," he kept saying, and at first, I had no desire to hear that. He was the one who had done something wrong.
I do remember one breakthrough moment. Brian had been saying to me, over and over again, "You're not listening!"

"Yes, I am!" I said, just as many times. Finally he said, "You know, one of our friends told me, with the way I've been feeling, he thinks it's a wonder that I didn't have an affair years earlier.
When I heard that, I hit the roof.
"WHO WAS IT?" I screamed. "Who told you that?"
What awful person masquerading as our friend would say such a thing? Brian kept telling me it was irrelevant, but I persevered until I finally got it out of him. And then I was struck silent: This person was someone who was really near and dear to us -- and still is today. I felt like he was blaming me for Brian's affair, but I knew that this person cared about us -- both of us -- and I was truly confused.

Still, I called said friend the very next morning. "How dare you say that I made this happen?" I yelled.
"Anne," he said, calmly, "I didn't say you deserved to have this happen to you. I just said, 'Considering the way Brian was feeling ...'"
And this time I finally heard it. What was he feeling? I wondered. Finally, I moved into listening mode.
And when I did, Brian was able to move into repair mode. Now he was doing everything right: bringing me flowers, taking me out for dinner, writing me love letters, telling me I was beautiful.
Our emotions were still raw and intense, but we were both beginning to heal.Brian started to tell me things, like the pain that he had been going through over his father's death. And I realized that I hadn't really been there for him. I had tried in my own ways, but it wasn't enough.
The truth of the affair was really hard to hear. I would listen with tears streaming down my cheeks, but I learned not to interrupt. "Thank you for telling me the truth," I told him instead. I had to learn how to reward him for being truthful.
I also learned a few things about myself. I had really worked hard at our relationship, but not necessarily in all the right ways. I had read a lot of books on relationships, and I would go to seminars, so I had a bit of a self-righteous attitude. I thought I had my act together: You needed to keep up your appearance; you had to show admiration to your husband. These things I knew, but it was like a checklist to me: Brian, am I admiring you enough?
One of the things that we had to learn was that we didn't need to give up our identities for the sake of the relationship. One of the differences was in our personalities: Brian is more fun-loving; fun is a top priority for him. By nature, I'm a more serious person, the kind who has to find the moral of the story at the movie theater. To me, fun was something you did once you'd taken care of all of your responsibilities. Simply put, I thought my way was right.
We learned that there wasn't a right and a wrong -- that people have different needs. I had to realize that his need for fun was just as important as my need for security. When your spouse comes to you with something like "Here's a difference," you tend to hear it as a judgment, and the normal response is to get defensive. I finally learned to stop doing that.
But because my trust in Brian had been blown to bits by his betrayal, I was an emotional wreck for the better part of two years. I would have a bad day, and think, There's no way. I can't do this. I can never get over this. I just want a divorce. Then Brian would do a bunch of wonderful things, and I would decide that I didn't want to divorce him after all.
And then, one year, it was Christmastime. I remember thinking, Oh my gosh, this probably isn't going to work. Christmas is going to be forever marred as the time that Mom threw Dad out. I got really scared about forming that memory for the kids, and I came to Brian with a suggestion that we put this whole thing on hold for the holiday season. He agreed.
And what wound up happening was that we had one of the most amazing Christmases ever. That gave us hope. It made us realize that we really did have a relationship worth saving.
Two years out was the mile marker for me. It's not a magic number, and it doesn't work for everyone; it was just my decision. I decided that if I truly could not forgive Brian by then, the only humane thing would be to divorce him. I couldn't continue to hold this bad thing over his head: You're lower than me. You cheated.
One day I went hiking in our lovely mountains with a backpack and a notepad, and I wrote down all the things that Brian had done, and how he hurt me, and I thought, OK, Anne, you can hold onto this stuff, and you can get a divorce. And my brain was going crazy: But if I get a divorce, how am I going to trust any other man? Brian has a strong character. I know that, and he cheated, so what would stop someone else? And then there was our shared history, and the fact that we did love each other. And, I thought, from my perch on the mountain, There's a much better chance of monogamy with someone who's learned the lesson and realized we're all vulnerable. That day I decided I wanted to stay in my marriage. Before I hiked back down, I dumped my lists -- and my mistrust -- into a nearby river, and I watched them float away as far as I could see.
My feelings didn't necessarily match up all the time. I still felt like I had a black spot on my marriage, but after my decision by the river, every time I got those dark thoughts, I would re-read Brian's love letters. Within six months, by October 2003, I found that that sad feeling had finally left me.
It's not to say that the journey of healing is easy, but the reward is incredible. That's why I'd like to say to Sandra that marriage can be made that much stronger.
I would never say to somebody that you need an affair to make it better, but once it's happened, you also can't turn back the clock and undo it. So it's a matter of finding meaning, and making it worse or making it better.
The choice is up to the two of you.

LADY CHILD (Series)

                                                      THE ACID TEST.....

After the sad breaking up incident with Dapo(name not real), I decided to seek knowledge from friends I shared more than smiles with. I wanted to know why someone like me should get ditched. The problem couldn’t be coming from me. I felt justified in my anger and took my curiosity to my four best friends.

I got to the venue of our meeting point with the confident hope of being consoled and having a general discussion about the unimportance of men who can eat and call it quits at the same time.

    On getting there, I flopped on the sofa and automatically arranged my countenance to that of a girl who had been wrongly dealt with. At first, my four gloriously beautiful friends, seem so engrossed in the film, they barely acknowledged my presence.
But like an attention loving diva, I kept sighing heavily to garner attention to me.

I was still being ignored.
Sighing and turning on the leather sofa time to time, I discovered it was making an ingratiating and irritating noise which I liked considering the circumstances.
I was still ignored.
At that moment, I felt rightly neglected and abandoned.
 
Luckily for me, somewhere in another part of Lagos, a particular organization agreed with my mood and decided to render the only support they could possibly give. There was blackout.


I tried to suppress the glee that tried to force its way out of my lips. The Cheshire cat smile that was struggling to erupt from me was calmly deflated which I considered a great achievement. I couldn’t help but conclude I would be given their undivided attention. I waited for the usual fawning and similar coos of comfort and sympathy every girl gets from her friends when she gets jilted. I geared myself up for their attention.


Suddenly, like someone who discovered they had an unwelcome guest they had no choice than to attend to, they all turned to look at me, with expressions that shared an uncanny sameness.


Then, the other shoe dropped.