Her first night here was christened with her bed collapsing in the middle of the night. I was In the living room at 2am when I heard a loud 'BANG' and 'KABOOM' from the bedroom. The next thing that echoed from the bedroom, down the staircase and into the living room was a loud "ROBBBBBBYYYYYYY!!!!" I ran upstairs and there, amongst the pile of wood, duvet and pillows was my mumsy shaking her head in acceptance that the holiday with her children had begun in the finest of ways. Seeing as I love DIY, I decided to fix the bed myself and even though Mumsy begged me to let her buy a new one I refused and the next day I drilled and hammered the bloody thing back into shape. Two nights later, like an irritating deja vu, I heard the crashing sound from the bedroom again and the same name being screamed from the bedroom, only this time it sounded more accusing than a cry for help. I ran up to the room and once again, in a heap of wood, blankets and bedsheets lay my mum preparing a 15 minute speech on how my refusal to listen to her is connected to every problem in my life and with the world at large. She actually found a way to connect my stubborness with my addiction/love of chinese food and my cousin's love for white girls, the ways she does this is still beyond me I tell you.
One fine fall morning I was crashing in the living room because when Mumsy is around we end up revamping our sleeping arrangements and I usually end up on the couch. I'm crashing on the couch and I realise that across the room mumsy is seated with my laptop staring excitedly at the screen. Initially I wasn't bothered and drifted back into sleep, then several scenarios started playing out in my head, what if she found my blog? what if she found out how many times she'd featured in my posts? what of she read my emails?, what if she reached the facebook endz? A few minutes later she answered my question by asking me a question. "Robby" she said, "How do I add you to my facebook account?". I was awake and alert immdiately because someone had just set fire to the mountain, "Your account" I asked, "Yes oh, Mrs Olu has been pestering me to join so I decided to just join the thing, how can I add you?", "Well Mummy I'm not on Facebook anymore because it ended being a waste of my time and I heard people nick youe details and use it for malicious stuff" The lie flowed from my lips marinated in guilt. "Oh okay, well it's just so that I can say I'm on facebook and Mrs Olu can get off my back". I must admit I felt guilty but what's guilt compared to my Mumsy reading and commenting on my status updates.
We all went to wedding together and weren't we looking smashing! I was proud of the Scribbles mehn, Scribbles dudes in suits and Scribble Gurls in gowns. The bride and groom are really close family friends so we were feeling a bit special because we knew almost every member of the family, I say 'we' in an attempt to disguise the fact that it was just me being subtly smug. So the newly weds did were having their first dance and it was all mushy mushy with people awwwing and oooing everywhere. Then after the ceremonial dance the song changed and so did the tempo, it was all fine and normal when they were playing the old skool song which I have no details on ATM, mumsy decided to spray money on them, a notion I thought was illegal in london and knew Popsy wud be livid over. As the oldskool tune played mumsy sprayed and when she was done and about to leave the dancefloor the DJ went mental, Yemi Sax's 'Bere mole' blasted form the speakers and I could not help myself. With no younger babes on dancefloor I seized mumsy and was surprised to see she had started boogying before me sef. It was hilarious, Mother and Son grooving on the dancefloor and my cousin, also at the wedding, went crazy with her camera. Now you'd think the DJ wud behave himself and let us leave but NO! 'Ara ga gba ndiara' followed and then 'Fokasibe' and then Kelly Handsome's 'Like play like play'. At this point I was not myself again, I was busting out different versions of yahoozee and even attempted a posh looking version of alanta, mumsy was dropping some old skool moves as much as her joints would permit, Me and mumsy were just singing along with the choruses of each song and my sis and bro were laughing their butts off at the table. It was only when we had finally returned to our seats that I realised Mumsy ad been singin along with every naija song that had come on....pesin don dey spoil dat woman sha.
Her birthday is tomorrow the 10th and as usual it's going to be quiet cos she loves it quiet. We'll probably just surprise her at 12am cos right now we are all acting like we've forgotten. You'd think that after years of pulling thr same stunt it'd get old but it hasn't, every year we surprise her at 12am and I think she likes it more than she let's us know. However, after all this I would like Popsy to come and carry his wife cos I don tire, I love this woman mehn but for that love to remain she must be at least a continent awat from me. ttyl pples!