FLEAU

A TYPICAL DAY IN LAG

2025-04-17T12:52:00.001+00:00

For anyone who was born in Nigeria and lives in Lagos (and when I say live in Lagos, I mean you’ve experienced the real intricacies of Lagos. I'm not talking about those who view Lagos through tinted glass… you know yourselves) as I was saying jare, you would know and feel what I’m talking about.

A typical day here starts by 5:30 a.m. with a loud noise coming through your window, properly delivered by our neighbourhood volunteer speakers. Somedays it makes me wonder, I hope God is wearing earplugs, because I don’t want to question Him one day about unanswered prayers and then hear something like: “You have to shout really loud these days. I can barely hear you since I now wear a hearing aid, thanks to the too-loud prayers from your brothers... perhaps.”

Then, you have to deal with the long queue of people before you even get the chance to bathe (for those who live in face-me-I-face-you apartments). And right after that comes the funniest part, transportation. At this point, everybody becomes a potential Ali or Usain Bolt, just to catch the first bus. At the end of the hustle, you get to work looking like Chris whenever he’s brought out of his locker after being locked in by Caruso.

You get to work panting, and then your company’s Margaret Thatcher or Idi Amin steps in, and you start sweating all over, even with the split unit AC on 16, because any small excuse and boom, you're back in the labour market. And that’s the only market where you don’t buy but sell. And selling in this market is hard. Too many sellers, few buyers. You don’t need to be told; you were once there.

Then it’s lunchtime. But rather than eat, you spend the entire time talking about everything and everyone’s business except your own. Next thing you know, lunch is over. In secret, you’re complaining that lunchtime shouldn’t be over. Even if you were eating Mount Kilimanjaro, how long would it take you to finish it? Plssssssss!

After lunch is when the real work starts (for those of you working in PLCs and LTDs). That’s when the lazy-ass bosses start rolling in with yèyè files that should have been brought in since morning. But who are you to complain? Except, of course, you have another job lined up. We can’t say.

Closing time comes, and instead of feeling useful, you feel used up. You’re so fagged out that when you finally get home, that’s if you don’t spend another 3 hours in traffic buying everything from gala, to LaCasera, to mirrors, to monkeys, to ironing tables, even office space. *Breathes in* In fact, this traffic situation is another blog post on its own.

You get home, and guess what? Everywhere is dark not because of a solar eclipse, but from an eclipse of wires, a.k.a.. no light. And the only way out? Return to the noise that started your day. But this time, the noise brings a small pleasure.

That’s if you don’t use one of those annoying generators that sound like grinding machines and make you feel like strangling PHCN. Maka why?

So, you start your day with noise… and end it with noise. This reminds me of one of my favourite Bible verses:
"From dust you were made, and to dust you shall return."

Except, in the case of Lagos:
“From noise you were woken, and to noise you shall return.” Perhaps.

A typical day goes on like this for 5 days a week, 7 days for the weekend, working folks, 4 weeks a month, 365 days a year.

And if you work in firms like mine, where vacation, leave, and holidays are permanently banned for employees. E choke

Just imagine working like this all through your life…

Eko for show!!!

3 Ways To Address Your Fears As A Parent

2020-05-17T15:05:00.002+00:00

We are daily winging this thing called parenting. This has nothing to do with our class or belief.

Parenting comes with a unique experience for individuals. What we experience with one child is different from another child.

Let’s take, for example, my kids. As a baby, my first child had a hard time transcending from her baby food to more adult-like food. We had to spend a lot on multi-vitamins and new diet regime but none seemed to work.

However, with my younger child, the journey has been different. She will rather eat what other adults are eating than her baby.

Regardless of these differences we experience while parenting, there is one thing that I can say we share in common.

“Our desire to ensure that our kids live a better life than we do”. It is from this desire that our fears as parents arise.

The what-ifs start with our fears.

· What if our kids don’t turn out as good as we imagine

· What if our kids never reach their height

· What if we can give our kids the life that we want for them

Like I to tell most parents what-ifs has never helped anyone. What can help is how we navigate these fears to our benefit.

So how do we deal with the fears;

1. Talk About It

Yes, you read that right. Talking is the best therapy for almost anything. For anyone that has gone to see a therapist ever wondered why you do most of the talking.

Talk about your fears with your partner, a mentor, your own parents or other parents.

By talking, you will be able to validate that your fears are normal and learn how to deal with them.

Talking about your fears of the future of your kids with other parents will provide you with the opportunity to learn from the experiences of others.

2. Work On It

You have talked about it. The next thing you need to do is work on it. So what is your biggest fear? Are you scared your child will end up as a dropout just like you? What can you do to prevent this reoccurrence?

Now that is what you need to work on.

Are you afraid that you might never be able to give your child the life you want for them? What can you do to achieve this? This might mean taking up a new job, applying for a grant, etc. Just about anything to get you moving.

3. Don’t Dwell On It

The worst thing you can do to yourself is to live in constant fear of the future of your children.

This is the worst thing you can do to yourself. Is to live in constant fear of the future of your children.

Don’t sleep on it. Don’t overthink it. You are not the only one on this boat. Thousands of parents see traits in their kids that make them panic. This tends to make them overreact.

They get overly protective or ignorant. They end up making more mistakes beyond what their fears were initially.

Dear parents, permit me to say your fears are valid and they will pass if you keep working on them

What is your biggest fear as a parent? Share it with us in the comments section.

WELCOME, DADA AND MAMA

2020-04-25T14:50:00.004+00:00

"Parenting, the most fulfilling job without a pay"

If you are reading this, then it is one of 3 things;

You are a parent
You dream of becoming a parent
You are just the curious cat

Whatever your reason, I want you to know I am happy to have you here.

A brief introduction, I am Funmi, mother of two, sports junkie, digital marketing expert, and advertising protege "Isn't multi-tasking one of the superpowers of a parent"

I guess I shine at that. Back to the post.

For a little over a year, I have had it somewhere at the back of mind to create a community for parents to be humans. The one place where they can get all the information they need about parenting and most importantly meet other parents who share similar experiences.

I know sometimes parenting a child can make your experience seem peculiar, but believe me, if I say there are probably 100s of other parents in your boat you are unaware of.

Well, that's what this blog is about.

We are not here to speak big English share fancy tips, "no shade-throwing allowed here"

We are simply here to talk about this thing called PARENTING.

Get ready to learn, share, network, save, and even earn.

Welcome to this thing called PARENTING and I am your host.

BACK TO COURT.......OR SOMEWHERE NEAR THE COURT ATLEAST

2010-08-20T13:13:00.041+00:00

So outta boredom and idleness (no place to go for marketing and no MD to tell me what to do), I’m sitting on the front desk officer’s seat (not like she’s here either plus browsing with her PC gives you the cinema feeling… imagine chatting on a 62-inch screen… whew… right in my face).

I decided to browse for some information (not like I found anything; it's not like I was really looking, 'cause I’ve been Facebooking and following BBA5).

And while doing that, I came across something really creative, interesting, and kinda introspective and it got me thinking like, what the hell are you doing? Sitting behind tables without files, speaking all kinds of English (some of which I don’t even understand), marketing services and items through which most individuals rip off their company and even Nigeria of their little money.

You think I’m lying? Go investigate the staff in the procurement department… some of them are richer than the CEO. Don’t ask how I know.

Funny thing is, I can actually get these items and services on a normal day at half the price with less English from Balogun Market (with greater quality sef, and no VAT inclusive)...

Like seriously, without being told FUNMI-UJU you are in the wrong place.

The other day, I was talking to a friend of mine and he said, "Young lady, I heard you work for someone. How does that appeal to you?"

And I couldn’t reply outta foolishness.

Just yesterday, I was speaking to my very first basketball captain from college, and she told me how sick she felt doing exactly what she was doing which doesn’t involve HOOPS.

And seriously, I connected. I found out we were on the same boat...

Then I visited www.bballjunkies.com

There was a lot going on there, and for a second, I felt BASKETBALLTALGIC (I invented this word myself, so you know).

I felt like entering my system to feel my first love once more.

I’ve spoken more about my first love than I’ve actually spent time with him.

I miss the connection we used to feel the bad times we had, the great times we shared, the memories we created, our red carpet nights, our moments of craze, our embarrassing moments, and most importantly, THE PAPARAZZI AND SWAGS DAY…

These are just a few of the things my job can never offer.

And some of the reasons I regret ever considering taking a break from my love.

Gosh, I want him so badly.

And this is how I felt when I went through that site.

So for a minute, I made up my mind it’s time to pack the papers, clean the footwear, headbands, socks, shirts, and balls, and get back on court.

Enough of me wearing pencil skirts (I hate that clothing so feminine, lol), looking like Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde 2, enough of me writing proposals and having presentations before smart-ass n****s who would negotiate the price of anything.

(I mean, if it were possible, these individuals’ ghosts would even negotiate their coffin price after death…

Imagine their ghost saying:

I know I’m smart, but I think it’s high time I drop the books and get back to breaking wrists and ankles.

Making the crowd breathless, speechless, and expressionless.

Yeah, that’s what I know how to do best give you more than you can afford.

The only regret I have about procrastinating this action is that I don’t get to play against Lisa Leslie.

I mean, she retired even before I started.

I guess she heard I was coming and got scared.

(No diss intended I totally love her… in a straight way though…)

I know what you’re thinking: too much bragging.

I can’t play against her professionally unless it’s a game for the legends of world female basketball (if there’s anything like that).

I seriously miss the sweaty days…

Stabbing class for training…

Training under the rain, during the cold days, doing almost impossible drills…

Missing fast breaks and even lay-ups…

Getting punished…

The free hugs from boys (lol)…

Magazine interviews…

The awards…

The fame (come to think of it, I was popular in college)…

The screams of my name, my fan base, the pointing fingers when I walked around…

The "I love you" notes from girls (I’m totally kidding—I never got any of that)… etc.

Weird thing is I never got paid for all this, and yet I went to bed every day feeling rich.

But with my job now, I get paid and still go to bed every day feeling the same way Jabez felt before he rendered the “ENLARGE MY TERRITORY” prayer… if not worse.

Looking at this site, I saw how people who never got and might never get the chance to be in the NBA or WNBA still lived their basketball dreams.

And so it made me decide I don’t have to wait until some pot-bellied, tall, almost bald, sharp-tongued (for men), long-legged, “I-once-upon-a-time-played-b-ball-in-high-school, I-also-wanted-to-use-my-height-for-modelling-too-you-know” (for women) coach or scout or agent finds me before I can play.

I’ve decided to find myself and still play.

I mean, no need to go to try-outs where some dude holding a board would scream from the sidelines:

“Do I look like I came here to watch you fool yourself? I mean, I see enough of that for free on Paris Hilton’s BFF.

Or do you think we’re joking here?

Whoever told you you were a good baller must have his brain under his feet.

Or did you, by any chance, see a sign saying AMATEURS IN HERE when you were coming in?”

No need for this anymore.

Because I would play either directly or indirectly even if it means me creating my own team and playing them on PS2. LOL.

But seriously, it’s high time I get back to the court or somewhere around it…

P.S.

I THINK IT’S WAY OVERDUE.

So I wanna say THANK YOU to everyone who reminded me every time to get back to my game, either for my own good or just for sarcasm. It worked after all...

IBK (your mentor is coming),

SHOMZZ (we going to make it real),

LISA LESLIE (too bad),

WULI (might honour your invite after all),

MY HONEY’S FRIEND (I heard you)...

TO MY FANS (I know I’ve starved you)…

GOD HELP ME.

SKINNIES AND MEN.....hmmmmmmmmm

2010-08-02T09:24:00.025+00:00

As a kid back in the 90s, I always had two major reasons why men wore skinny pants and those reasons depended entirely on their race. If I saw a white dude in skinnies, I figured he was either a ballet dancer, a gymnast, a rock singer, gay, or just plain stupid when it came to dressing. On the other hand, if the dude was Black, I had just one reason for him: “There goes a broke-ass n****r who can’t afford regular pants and had to borrow his sister’s or baby brother’s pair.”

Seriously speaking, I thought men wearing skinny pants died right after 2Pac got shot but I guess I was wrong. I wish you all saw my face the first time I saw a man in skinny pants in the early 2000s. I had one of those expressions you get when you're experiencing culture shock, but this time it was more like skinny pants electrocution. And one thing came to mind: “GAY.” (Please permit my repetitive use of this word it's simply due to a lack of better expressions on my part.)

You can imagine my shock when, late last year, I saw my friend wearing one of these scary clothing items. If I didn’t know him, I would’ve concluded he was one of them too (and honestly, I still have my doubts about him sometimes... IJK). But seriously, men, why can’t you just stick to your sagging, bling-bling, oversized shirts, or whatever style you call yours and leave ours alone?

Why on earth would any man want to wear something that skinny and for some, extremely tight? For the record, men who wear really tight pants are killing their chances of having kids on time. Yeah, I said it. Plus, they end up looking like Channing Tatum from Step Up 1 right after Nora asked him to wear one of those scary dance tights. The sight ain't nice. Don’t you get it? Some of us like to eat and seeing y’all like that just ruins the vibe, especially in restaurants.

Now, don’t get me wrong I don’t hate men wearing skinnies. The only problem I have is that these men are stealing our attention. Skinny (aka pencil) pants are like every girl’s curve-showing technique. With men wearing them, it’s like we’re competing! Picture this: you and your cute boyfriend are out on a date, and both of you are in skinnies. Next thing you hear is, “Aww, both of you look so cute in skinny jeans but your boyfriend has more curves than you. I mean, he rocked it better.” LIKE, PLEASE SHOOT ME NOW.

Isn’t it enough that men wear clingy shirts to show off their biceps? Even guys with chests as flat as cream cracker biscuits do it and we don’t complain. But the moment we try to wear something fitted, you scream “ATROCITY!”

There’s a lot of room for experimentation in fashion, so why have y’all decided to rob us blind? First, you started plaiting your hair. Then came the jewellery. After that, makeup. We let all that slide. And now now you’ve claimed skinny pants too?! What’s next? Pencil skirts? Peep-toes? Wedges? Don’t say it’s impossible.

But the most annoying part about this whole skinny pant issue is how some men wear them. Who told you that wearing tight pants with big shoes, slippers, or even Timberlands would make you look sexy? I mean, you look like the dude that robs Chris in Everybody Hates Chris for a dollar every time he walks home. Like, if you’re going to steal our swag, at least do it right!

And just so you know skinnies, like the name implies, are for skinny people. Like my cousin Nani, who with or without New Boyz (his reason for wearing skinnies) can always rock them because he’s skinnier than a dancing pole. He has no choice; skinny pants actually favour him.

So I keep wondering... what are brothers as big as Big Pun, with an ass the size of Mo’Nique’s from The Parkers, doing in skinny pants? I mean don’t you have a mirror at home? Or do the people in your house close their eyes when you leave?

P.S.: MEN, LEAVE SKINNIES ALONE. MUST YOU SHARE THE ATTENTION WITH US? CAN’T YOU JUST ADMIRE US IN SOMETHING FOR ONCE WITHOUT STEALING IT?! MSCHWWWWWWW.

AWOLOWO ROAD

2010-06-11T08:19:00.032+00:00

Yeah, some of you know this place, but for the sake of those who don’t, I’d be kind enough to introduce it to you.

It’s located in the heart of Ikoyi and could pass for Osu Street in Accra, Madison Avenue in New York, or maybe even the streets of Dubai. Whatever the comparison, the point is: you can shop for all classes of things. You can feed your eyes to the extent of staying without food for weeks.

It has a class of its own, and so do the people who work or live there. Some try to fit in, while others created this kind of lifestyle, so much so that people assume nothing can ever go wrong here.

PLSSSSSSSS…

If you’re ever cruising down this street which has a Polo Club, TM Store, a 5-star hotel, strings of clubs, top restaurants (from Chinese to Asian to Lebanese), fancy buildings, and designer clothing stores, you’ll notice something else: even the price of 35cl Coke, buns, puff-puff, and mama put is higher here. That alone shows you the class of things.

So when I got my first job on this street, I felt like I just moved from Blackberry Bold to Blackberry Smartphones. Like I had switched from police escort to bodyguards and convoys. That was the vibe... until June 10th, when the street showed me pepper.

If you live on the mainland, places like Ikeja, Bariga, Yaba, you’ll hear one common slogan: SHINE YOUR EYES. But on the Island, you're made to believe everyone is a potential big boy or big girl. Drop ₦1,000 on Awolowo Road and you might come back to meet ₦950 waiting for you. But that June 10th? That was a shocker.

I resumed work, picked a call just 3 minutes from my office, and somehow, just somehow, my phone decided to go on vacation. No warning. No goodbye. And even as we speak, the phone hasn’t returned from its trip.

When I told people about it, nobody even asked where it got stolen. Once I said “I work on the Island,” they finished the story for me. That’s how I found out Awolowo Road is a phone-missing zone. A red zone on the map.

So today, if you’re a tourist visiting Awolowo, I suggest you buy palasa phones, the kind of phones that when stolen, they return with an insult. (Think: Nokia 3310, 2100, all those heavy-ass phones that give you biceps from just making one call.)

I’m not trying to paint this place black. I’m just wondering why people keep painting it white. So all you Awolowo fanbase people, please stop bragging, I’m really not happy with this downtown street, despite the swag.

A lot goes on here. But somehow, they make mainlanders feel bad about where they live. Here, you’re forced to live a fake life and an expensive one at that. Like, what is a sales rep earning ₦45k monthly (without benefits) doing with a BB phone and eating Chicken Republic every day? (One meal that covers breakfast, lunch, and dinner... you know the deal 1-0-0.)

And don’t get me started on the shop owners. They sell what they can’t even afford. What kind of marketing is that? You walk into Mobos or Wardrobe and the salesperson is wearing “Gussi”, yet they get violent when you complain that their original stuff is too expensive. They look at you like you’re the cheap one.

Who’s really the cheaper one, though?

I’m not dissing the street. I mean, I love spending time here. But please, stop deceiving me. I’m no longer new here. In fact, I’m a landlord now. Let’s share the secret together. Don’t treat me like Eddie on Winstream Lane.