Access To Money.

Dear aunties and uncles,

As the full-time Chief Operating Officer of the Usman household, I happen to have some free time on my hand from time to time.

So imagine my excitement when I got a call from my Bank – Access Bank – informing me I qualify to win big money as part of their on going cash raffle draws.

See, my village people thought they’re about to subject me to having very little money! It’s a lie, I must win this 1 million Naira today.

I quickly informed the Nigerian Husband and in fact, I made him some promises. I air-marked some money for

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“Eh? What Kind of Name is That?” – How We Met.

Dear Unborn Children,

I won’t be the typical African parent, I will be quick to apologize when I’m wrong: I’m sorry I left you waiting since the last letter. Your aunties and uncles have been asking to read your letters too. Don’t worry, I didn’t share with them.

See, before your father met your grandfather, who you will get to see as a fun and attentive grandpa, I was a bit nervous.

Here, your father poses for a photo with your grandmother, a few days into his visit to Jos. Till this day, she still blushes around him, even more than I do.

My Village People Almost Got Me.

Dear Nigerian Husband,

I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?

Let’s start with the bad news.

See, my Nigerian Husband is a lucky man! See this beauty he gets to call his wife! To God be the glory.

So remember sometime at the beginning of 2019 when I attempted to make Masa. What a disaster that was. I almost put my good

How We Met (I Got Tired of Church.)

Dear Unborn Children,

A few days ago on the 1095th day of your father and I knowing each other, I began telling you the story of how it all started. I had to make it short as I didn’t want to bore you with all those tiny details. Apparently, your curiosity has gotten the best of you as well as other aunties and uncles who have read my letters to you behind your back. (Adults these days, I tell ya!)
I digress.
See, when your father and I met, I didn’t think we would go beyond being friends. On the surface, he fit the perfect picture of a player. I wasn’t about to get my heart played and dumped like used diaper. I had to thread carefully.

This card was among surprise gifts he gave me on our first Valentine’s Day together. Inside, he referred to me as his Future Mrs. Man, dude was seeing way into the future already.

Even as I moved with caution, your father was so intriguing: our conversations were really good. We could go for hours just chatting about nothing and anything. Hardly an hour went by without some kind of communication. (I’m sure he’ll remember when

How We Met – 1095 Days Ago (Three Years.)

Dear Unborn Children,

I’ve told the story of how we met several times. It’s my favorite love story, I hope it becomes yours too.

However, a few days ago, a friend who had heard the story a few times asked me to tell the story to her sister. And for the first time, I didn’t have the same enthusiasm and in fact, I had left out a few important aspects and the friend had to chip in to remind me.

So for posterity and for family history, I’m telling this story on the third anniversary of your father and I’s first encounter.

This was our very first photo together. We sat in a Kekenapep (Tricycle, Marwa) Outside my house. In less than an hour of meeting each other, he raised his butt cheek slightly from the chair and blessed me with his first fart.

As far as love is concerned, give it your all, love completely and be open-minded for when love shows up.
Let me explain.

After dating a few guys, even though nice guys, we didn’t quite work out, obviously. So I decided I

I Wrote About My Husband Before We Met.

I’ve not written for a while and needless to say, I’ve felt off balanced to a degree. So I want to change that with what I hope would become series of letters to my unborn children. And I hope to tie these series to the series I wrote about their dad.

See, if you’ve been a follower, or occasional visitor to my writing ramblings, you should be familiar with

Once Upon A Time.

Many moons ago, I was somewhat consistent with providing content on this blog.

I apologise and I have to be honest, I can’t promise that this will be the last time I’ll be gone on long and unannounced haitus and all. But I pray you stay with me or at least click when you see a new post.

Not so much of an update – trust me, there’s a lot of update to come – I’m simply here to quickly record for posterity the little I’ve learned about myself over these past months.

As I announced sometime last year, I got laid off my job. Rewind many years ago, I thought I knew myself ; a go-getter, hustler, negotiator, talk-my-way-out kind of person. But oh, the joke was/is on me.

I’ve learned that I can be quite unmotivated at some of the most serious things in life, but thank God, I’m learning I can talk to God about it, but most importantly, trust that He’ll help and guide me, but I have to take the steps.

I love to write, infact, life without writing would be so sad. However, I’ve learned that I write the most when I’m emotionally balanced or should I say “happy.”. When there’s so much to think about, I write less and tend the share less about myself.

I worked in media for about 12 years so I thought I communicated well enough. Ha! Life with my partner is teaching me otherwise. I’ve come to realise I’m HORRIBLE at communication. I think to myself a lot, discuss with myself and get so comfortable doing it that I forget this life isn’t just all about me alone. This marriage life is now “us” and not “I.” I’m still adjusting.

Still a lot to learn about myself.

On a lighter note, I can brag and say I’ve mastered jollof rice and I got amazing compliment from The Nigerian Husband the other day. I about to move on to pounded yam.

Please stay with me.