My cute little Chubbylicious

English: A young girl kisses a baby on the cheek.

English: A young girl kisses a baby on the cheek. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My cute little Chubbylicious makes me speechless when it comes to expressing what he means to me.The words,though in my heart seem inapt and uncapable of portraying this deep feeling of emotion engulfing me. Is it the joy of being a mother? When people called it joy,they lied. Pardon me. It’s not joy. It’s more than joy. It’s an astounding feeling that can be likened to one being high on something. You get my drift? Maybe you don’t. Well let me show you what I mean.

His complexion is like a mixture of vanilla and chocolate with an extra serving of vanilla untop. Round head crowned with a mass of dark curly hair, thick brows with long lashes, a well-formed nose and cherubic lips. Did I forget to mention his cheeks? How could I? Cheeks that are so chubby that I find it irresistible to plant kisses on them every minute; cheeks that remind me of the very name I fondly call him. Chubbylicious. I call him Chubbylicious, Chubs for short because he’s chubby and beautiful to behold. I know the word ‘beautiful’ is mostly used for us, females but Chubs is the very manifestation of the word ‘beautiful’. It’s really awesome to imagine how nine months of discomfort, nausea, weakness, swollen feet, and excrutiating pain can birth a beautiful, angelic, greatly-rewarding, ‘so-worth-the-stress’ bundle of joy. It’s simply A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!

 And then he chuckles. His lips part to reveal a toothless gum and a dimple appears on his right cheek. His innocent eyes light up with joy and the sound of his laughter as you tickle his sides gives an elation that is better experienced than imagined.

Being the God-sent angel that he is, he only cries when he’s wet, hungry or sleepy so it doesn’t take ages to know what he wants. The math is done by elimination of factors. Yes. if its not one, it has to be either of the other two. He makes it simple for me. God bless him.

Come watch him play. He plays hard and he chuckles hard too. He screams in excitement with a voice much louder and stronger than you would expect from a 4 month-old baby. Then he lifts both chubby legs up and lands them hard on the bed and kicks out in the air in a rapid motion. Other times he grabs his bib or the nearest baby blanket and throws it over his head, only to chuckle when you remove it from his face.

Sleeping time is a time to cherish. After a warm bath and being wrapped like a bundle in his towel, he has a smile of contentment on his face – that is, if he has just been breast-fed and wants to welcome sleep the gentle way. If not, he cries hard, so hard that you almost begin to wonder if the math formula works after all but just at that moment, his cry descends to a softer tone and his lids begin to shut even as he tries to stay awake.  when he sleeps, his cherubic face has a peacefulness about it that makes you want to stay up all night just to watch him sleep.

Every day as I watch him grow, I can’t help but agree with the lyrics of Jodie’s song ‘Kuchi Kuchi’: 

Oh baby
When I wake up wake up in the morning
I see your lovely face
Your cheeks like butter honey from attica

You take my breath away
Your pretty little fingers so tender like petals from the morning bloom
Your laughter a joy to remember heaven has blessed me with you
The very day you came to me

My whole life became brand new 
Because of you
Oh baby oh baby
I see me in your eyes
Oh baby oh baby
I see love in your smile…

 In the middle of the night I wake up
When I hear you cry
It seems something binds us together
I can hardly live a moment without you

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This piece is a truly exceptional and enlightening one.

The Wordsmythe's Weblog...

I found this in my email archives. It made the rounds about 10 or so years ago. I have no idea who wrote it originally but thumbs up to you, whoever you are.


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Over The Top – A Sequel to To Be The Best

A white Greyhound puppy.

Image via Wikipedia

             The falling rain seemed incessant. Streaks of lightning shone in the sky, shattering its darkness for a split second before the thunder rumbled in the far distance. It was one of those rainy nights and as usual during such storms, the Power Holding Company had taken back its electricity, probably to hold it for some time and return it when the storm ceased—or not. The entire estate was cast into pitch darkness save for those who dared the rain by leaving their generating sets on while others remained in the dark.
           The bungalow belonging to the Ezeanis was one of those in the dark, partly because Matthew Ezeani had a habit of not leaving the generator on till after midnight and partly because they had all gone to bed; all but Nnenna who sat at her reading table burning the midnight candle. The hours that had gone by seemed not to matter, as being buried in her books, she became lost to all around her. The yapping of their neighbour’s puppy disrupted her thoughts once in a while and she was forced to use her headphones to block her ears, but the yapping continued.
‘I’m so going to kill that dog!’ she muttered under her breath just before she heard a knock on her door and the door opened. It was her mother.
“Nnenna, don’t you think it’s time for you to get some sleep? You don’t plan to stay awake all night, do you?” she asked, her voice full of concern.
“No mum, I’ll be done soon. I just need to finish this chapter. My group is depending so much on me and as the group leader, I can’t let them down.”
“Fine. Just try and get some sleep while you’re at that, okay?”
“Sure, mom. Thanks.”
She disappeared immediately, shutting the door behind her with a hint of a smile and a slight shaking of her head. Slipping back to bed beside her husband, she pulled the sheets up to her chin.
“She’s still awake?” Matthew asked, hardly expecting a negative answer.
“Yes,” Daisy answered. “She’s more than a jigsaw puzzle. At one time, we couldn’t get her to open her books and now— we can’t get her to close them!”
“She’ll be fine. She knows when she’s reached her limits. I’m sure she’ll be asleep sooner than you think.”
“I hope so too.”

At exactly a quarter past one in the morning, Nnenna decided she couldn’t cheat nature and shut her books to dive into bed. It was the beginning of a new week and she knew what lay ahead wasn’t going to be easy. She needed all the rest she could get. But just as she shut her eyes to answer nature’s call, the yapping started afresh. What the ….! Quickly, she flung the sheets aside and got out of bed to stare out the window. There was the puppy in their neighbours’ yard, yapping and pulling at nylon bags from the waste bin. It gripped the thick nylon with all its power, determination stirring him on till he got the bin to tip and its lid fell noisily unto the concrete.

Nnenna shook her head in dismay. Their new neighbours certainly needed a dog trainer to put some sense into the little nitwit. They’d moved in two days previously and she was yet to know what they looked like. All she had seen was furniture being moved into the house as she came home from school that day and the next day, she’d noticed a red sports car parked in the garage.

Suddenly, the outside light came on and the back door opened. A young girl of about her age, wearing an over-sized night shirt and fancy fluffy slippers appeared. She called the puppy by its name, something Nnenna couldn’t quite decipher before she replaced the lid over the bin and gently carried the puppy inside, but not before she instinctively looked up at their neighbour’s window and her gaze met Nnenna’s prying eyes. She stood for a moment or two, scowling at her nosy neighbour before Nnenna let the curtain fall back into place. When she raised it again, the girl was gone. And the puppy as well. Why the hostility, she wondered at the girl’s reaction. Almost immediately, she knew she didn’t like her. She slid under the sheets once more, pulling them up to her chin. At least, now she could sleep. Miss Stuck-up-neighbour could eat shit for all she cared! Nnenna thought. Little did she know that she was going to see a whole lot more of little Miss Stuck-up!

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Front cover of Parenting, Inc.

Image via Wikipedia

This poem was composed by my dad and recited by my brother when I was barely a year old and learning to stand on my own feet. (She laughs) It’s amazing I’ve had it on my bedside wall all these years. It happened to catch my attention this Sunday afternoon so I decided to share it with you. It goes this way:

Little sister, nice and sweet
Little sister, plump and gay
Trying hard to go on feet
Harder, harder everyday

Little feet that seem to say
Rosy Buddy, stand on us
We’re your own feet, come what may
We will bear you with no fuss

Little sister,Chijioke
Keeps on trying, often crying
Mummy comes and says ‘Ok
Chi-Chi Daddy, keep on  trying’

Chi-Chi now can almost stand
Swaying, dancing all the way
When she hears the music band
Play on TV night or day

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Waiting For Muna

We Wait and We Wonder

Image via Wikipedia

Dedicated to Chukwuemeka & Chijioke Ekwelem,Chimaobi & Emelda Okafor,Kelechi & Tessy Anyanwu and Emeka & Nneoma Nkemakolam

With the joy that came,the wait began
For little feet and chubby hands
For fresh scent and sweet babbling
But all we heard was ‘wait,wait’

And so we waited,day and night
Patiently at first,then soon otherwise
The tension grew,we almost snapped
But all we heard was ‘wait,wait’

And then alas!the signs that came
The sweet pain,the weight gain
Embraced us both and seemed to say
No more will we have to wait,wait

Our Muna is here,the joy is complete
As we cuddle and play with chubby feet
And now we know,t’was not in vain
No more will we have to wait,wait

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Play It Smart

An American bathroom of a freshly renovated ho...

Image via Wikipedia

The day began like any ordinary day. Oderaa was awakened by the shrill ring of
the bedside alarm clock which she turned off immediately and held her pillow
close to her chest, stretching the sheets over her head to block out any more
interruption. Sleep was vital and she enjoyed it – every minute of it.
Sometimes, she told her friends the best part of the day which she always
looked forward to was going to bed, and they always found it hard to believe.
To some people, the best part of their day was coming home to a steaming plate
of well-cooked meal, or getting together to hang out with friends or settling
down to watch the sports highlights on TV. Well, that was theirs and this was
hers. Sleep.

She yawned and stretched with her toes peeping out from
underneath the sheets just as she heard the door to the next room open and
close and she knew what was coming next. Her mom was dressed for work and was
coming to check on her. Quickly, she jumped out of bed, grabbed her towel which
hung across the wardrobe door and dashed into the bathroom just as Angela opened
the door.

Her eyes swept over the untidy room in one instant and she
knew by the look of the ruffled sheets and no sign of any activity that her
daughter had just scurried out of bed and rushed into the bathroom at that
moment. She heaved a sigh of disappointment and decided not to make a fuss
about it. She was to facilitate in a 7.00a.m meeting at the bank that morning
before they opened to customers at 8.00a.m and definitely could not afford to
hold a scolding session with Oderaa now.

“Oderaa, I’m off to work. Make sure you’re not late for school. Roland will
drop you off at school once you’re set.”

Oderaa cursed under her breath at the mention of the driver’s name. She was
bound to be late once it was the sluggish driver who was taking her to school. Even
her great grandmother could beat them to school on her bike at the rate which
Roland drove.

“Mom, what about the stuff I told you about?” her voice rang from the bathroom.

“What ‘stuff’? I’ve told you to stop using that word and be more specific.”

She opened the door, just enough to pop out her head.

“I meant my wool, crocheting and knitting pins for my home economics practical…
that stuff.”

“Oh!” She’d completely forgotten about that. “Make a list. I’ll send Roland to
buy them for you.”

“Mom!” Oderaa whined.

Angela saw the look of disappointment on her daughter’s face and could guess
what she was thinking. The young but incompetent driver was so daft he couldn’t
tell the difference between an orange and a water melon, let alone go shopping
for crocheting pins and knitting materials. But she really didn’t want to be
late for that meeting. Her Manager would be furious with her.

“It’s okay, honey. I’m sure he’ll figure out a way to buy them. I have to go
now. I’ll see you when I get back.”

Oderaa watched her shut the door immediately before the sound of her stilettos
faded gradually down the hallway.

With a shrug of indifference, she shut the bathroom door and
turned on both faucets to let water run into the bath tub. She was quite used
to the cycle by now; her dad being away on business trips, her mom leaving for
work at the bank as early as 7.00a.m to return around  8.00p.m on a good day and even working during
weekends. Yes, Sundays inclusive as she sometimes had to put in extra hours to
meet a deadline. She was alone most of the time except for the house help who
kept the house clean and threw a few things together in a pot to cook in the
name of dinner. The only advantage she had was that her parents’ absence gave
her the leisure of shoving homework to watch
‘Keeping Up With The Kardarshians’ on E –Channel and ‘Brothers
& Sisters’
on  MNET
or whatever caught her fancy all day. If her dad ever found out
she wasn’t being serious with her school work, she knew she was in for it.

To Be Continued…

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From Noella’s Journal

A large pothole on a country road.

Image via Wikipedia

The journey to Mgbokoli was long and dreary. The major road was still under construction so the bus driver had taken a shorter route. The road was lined with pot holes and muddy
water which splashed unto the bus each time the bus driver failed to miss a pot
hole. There was no air conditioning in the bus so the passengers had left their
side windows open to receive some fresh air, but the dust seemed to be getting
in more than the badly needed fresh air.

Noella tried to focus on the book she was reading but found it difficult to
concentrate with the sound of the bus engine and the noisy conversation of the two
passengers in front of her. Sitting right next to her was a young woman
carrying a baby on her laps. Her hair was pulled back and tied with a scarf and
she had a pale look on her face which spelt misery. Her baby seemed not to
notice as she busied herself with squashing the egg she had been given to eat
in her two plump hands and smearing it on her face while licking what was left
from her fingers. She saw Noella’s disapproving look and gave her a blank
stare. Noella turned her attention back to the book but a jolt shook the bus
almost immediately as they fell into another bad pot hole. She gave up. The book
quickly found its place inside her handbag once more before she threw her head
back and tried to sleep. She had never been to this part of the hinterland before
and was curious as to what she would find there.

Thoughts of her sojourn at Gadawi , Northern Nigeria had stayed with her even
without her needing to put them down in her journal and she wondered if her
experience here would be the same. After a
few more stops here and there as the bus driver dropped some passengers
off while others took the opportunity  to
buy oranges and breadfruit and coconut tied traditionally in small nylon bags
from the hawkers, they got to their destination.

He pulled over at the central park where other small buses were ‘loading’
passengers traveling to Amokwa, Afonjo and Irele which were neighbouring towns
to Mgbokoli and the passengers came down from the bus one at a time. Noella
fished out her sunglasses from her bag and put it on before she went to one of
the bike men, generally known as ‘Inaga’ which means ‘Are you going?’ in Ibo
language. After much negotiation, the Inaga agreed to take her down to Mgbokoli
at the cost of 150 naira and she got on the bike. The man sped on the dusty
pathway leading to Mgbokoli like he was king of the road causing her to fear
for her dear life and even his as they both had no crash helmets on. She shut
her eyes and muttered a prayer and in about ten to fifteen minutes, he brought
the motor bike to a halt near a stony pathway. She thanked and paid him and he
nodded silently before zooming off on his bike as she began walking down the

Mgbokoli  was a small town set in the eastern part of Nigeria. Its people were majorly  farmers and got their daily bread from harvesting their crops and selling them at the local town market. She had been posted to one of the community schools in the town as an English teacher and she earnestly looked forward to meeting her new students. That was Noella Ekeh. A young lady with enduring passion for impacting knowledge to young,
ignorant minds whose love for her profession had taken her to places she’d
never dreamed of venturing into. She had escaped a robbery attack on the
highway once during her last posting; had narrowly missed a snakebite along a
lonely pathway on her way home one hot and sunny afternoon , save for one of
the villagers who came to her rescue at the nick of time and twice she had been
hospitalized for serious bouts of malaria but she remained undaunted in her
quest to spread knowledge.


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