Tuesday, April 7, 2026
Home Blog Page 69

What Kind of Shopper am I?

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
10

Right now I’m very broke. Like really broke. Like waiting for that ka-salary to clear in the bank… bla bla bla… those banking explanations that I don’t quite understand.

So yesterday I had Ksh 1,000 to spend on some urgent kitchen stuff like unga, royco, groceries, milk, bread, sugar, fruits etcetera etcetera that we needed for our evening meal, as well a few other household stuff. And so as is the norm, I passed by the supermarket on my way home.
Shopping basket filled with groceries.
© Photographer: Andorapro | Agency: Dreamstime.com

At the supermarket, where I got parking was towards the back entry and so what I did was decide to enter the supermarket through the back door as I figured walking all the way to the front door was too much work. Si as long as I got to the aisle where the stuff I needed was it didn’t matter through which door I came in through?

Now, this specific back entry side is the one that has clothing items, shoes and other wardrobe necessities. So as I walked past the clothes towards the main supermarket area to shop for the kitchen and household stuff I had gone to buy, I suddenly froze.

I froze because I couldn’t ignore the distress call of this cute little boy outfit that was pleading and begging for me to take it home to Kitty. But being the focused lady that I am, I decided to ignore that distress call and continue my merry way into the unga section of the supermarket. But two steps later, my body involuntarily turned back towards the outfit. Maybe I should just check it out, no harm in satisfying the desires of the eye. Si ‘kuangalia ni bure’ anyway?

So I slowly walked towards the outfit and when I touched it, I inhaled deeply as it took my breath away. I instantly saw Kitty in it, looking all so lovely and handsome, and with that thought a smile formed on my face. Somehow, the outfit couldn’t get back to its shelf as it had glued itself to my hand.

So what I did was quickly do some mental math. The outfit cost slightly over 400 shillings. Not bad. I would still have some money left for unga and groceries. Royco was a luxury so that one I cut out. Infact, in these harsh economic times, even sugar is a luxury.

So I walked towards the cashier to pay for the little outfit. But on my way there, I saw a romper that once again, could not do without kitty. And then I saw the cutest little pair of booties i’d ever seen. By the time I got to the counter, my bill was Ksh 1025. So it was either I look for the extra 25 bob or I drop one of the clothing items. My heart would have broken if I dropped any of the clothes I had picked for Kitty. So I attempted to coax the cashier to give me a discount but that’s a supermarket and ofcourse they don’t give discounts. So I told him to hold on, not to sell the outfits to anyone as I rushed to the car and searched for coins in the glove compartment. And voila! I got the 25 bob.

Baby clothes
© Photographer: Blojfo | Agency: Dreamstime.com

And with a smile, I happily walked out of the supermarket –very pleased with myself for getting my boy those lovely outfits. But I cursed those supermarket people for putting those clothes there. Such beautiful clothes should be put upstairs far far far away where women cannot access easily. Meaning that if you really came to buy clothes, then you will have to go the distance to get to where they are.

So did I make it to the unga section? Not at all. After I paid for Kitty’s clothes, I had not a shilling left as I went home. They should put things like unga right there at the front so that we don’t get side-tracked into buying things we didn’t intend to buy. So what did the family eat for supper? I shall not reveal.

So now I’m even more broke than I was yesterday. But yet the unga and the groceries and the milk and the sugar MUST be bought today. So what I’m doing right now is trying to remember who owes me money. Even if it’s 50 bob, I will call you up and demand that money –as though it’s a matter of life and death (because it actually is). So if you owe me any money, await my call or sms during the course of the day. I hope you’ll understand why.

Anyway, as I try to remember who owes me money, I’m also trying to decide what kind of person I am, and you can help me answer this.

Am I:

a)      A gullible shopper

b)      An irresponsible shopper

c)       A loving mother who puts the needs of her child first before all else

d)      A normal woman who buys things on impulse

e)      All the above

So tell me, what am I?

The Baby Banda Maternity Beauty Pageant

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
3

The Baby Banda maternity beauty pageant went down last Sunday, and it was quite something. It was hosted by Sheila Mwanyingha and I loved the outfit she had on. Fitted her well and suited the occasion. By the way, her makeup was done well as it made her look nice and natural, unlike how they do it on that TPF show she hosts where she always looks too overdone and pardon me, a tad bit fake. But that’s my opinion.

Anyway Sheila was a good host, didn’t make any errors and tried her very best to keep her head up even when clearly things were not in her favor. Like when there was a technical hitch and the sound went off while the pregnant ladies were on the runway.  Sound was off for about 15 minutes. When that happened, she engaged the crowd with a few humorous says, as well as got a little girl to catwalk on the runway. Nice.

Then, there was a light moment when Sheila was interviewing one contestant, who was 37 weeks pregnant. While answering the question, the lady ‘suddenly’ had a ‘contraction’, making Sheila almost topple off the podium. Ofcourse the crafty contestant was merely pulling a fast one on poor Sheila as there were no contractions. But she did get her alright. I think Sheila at some point even began hyperventilating. It was too funny.

Among the gripes I had with that particular day was the timing. My oh my! The event was scheduled to start at 2pm, but it started way past 3pm. It was supposed to end at 4pm, but I left at 5.15 when speeches were being given by the sponsors/judges. When I left, the winner of the pageant had not yet been announced. I don’t know what time it finally ended. But the comments from the ladies around me were not very nice, atleast where time management was concerned. Though delays and hitches sometimes do occur, they should try and be minimized. Especially when you have a host of pregnant women who are prone to fatigue, and a host of little kids who are prone to crankiness. By the way one way of time saving is having the judges speak less. And when there is no question arising from the audience, the speaker should sit down –and not keep prodding the audience to ask questions even when clearly they don’t have any.

The venue of the hall was also quite noisy as there was a kids’ play area at the back of the hall. There were moments when the kids’ screams and shouts drowned out the goings on in the main arena. The organizers probably need to think about that next time.

Now let’s talk about the expectant models. All the ladies were above 6 months pregnant, and the best part is that they were in all sizes – from petite to medium to large. Most were first time moms with the rest expecting their second babies. They were 15 contestants in total and some were so syked up, bubbly and energetic, others were just ‘okay’, while some looked rather tired. Some were constantly smiling and thoroughly enjoying the ‘party’ on the catwalk, while others could have done with a smile or two. But I have to give it up to all of them –being 6 months plus pregnant and going through all it takes to participate in a beauty pageant is no mean feat, even for the strongest of pregnant women. As for those who managed to walk in boots and heels without even the slightest of a falter –nimewainamishia.

From the different outfits that were showcased by different clothing houses and designers, I guess there is no excuse for looking bad while pregnant. The fashion designers really gave the best as all the maternity clothes modeled on that day were a definite yes for me. There were casuals –what you would wear on a weekend, formal office wear, casual office wear, African themed outfits and some lovely evening dresses. Nice.

The people who styled the contestants hair’s also did a good job. Same as those who did their make up and accessories.

Generally it was a good fair, and the contestants and their stylists definitely did a good job. Who won by the way?

Alright I guess I’ve written too much. Here are some of the photos fromthe pageant. You can click on the images for an enlarged view.

Oh and one last thing. The lighting at the runway made it difficult for good photography. The background plastic banner kept reflecting back, creating shadows and mushaino-like effects.

Mummy Tales at Baby Banda

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
1

So I attended the Baby Banda fair this past weekend. On Saturday I attended the baby shower session, which was exclusive to women –all the men were humbly kicked out before the session began. The baby shower session was hosted by Anne Ngugi of KTN. Never before have a seen a mass of pregnant women congregated in one place and at the same time than I did that day. I’m talking of about 500 pregnant women in one place at one time, waaaaah!

Anyway, how the baby shower session was carried out is that there were these balloons, which when poked would burst to reveal a piece of paper which contained either a question or a gift. The balloons would be burst by someone selected from the audience by Anne Ngugi of KTN.

From this session, I re-affirmed something I know about we women. We towtally looooooove gifts! The women kept screaming and raising their hands in a bid to catch Anne’s attention when it was time for her to select someone to burst a balloon (kept reminding me of how we used to scream ‘teacher teacher teacher’ when we kids and wanted to answer a question paused by a teacher). And when selected, each woman kept hoping she would pick a balloon that had a gift. The crowd was especially jealous of this woman (her name was Khadija if my memory serves me right) who won the gift of a baby play gym –evidenced by how the crowd woooowed, ooohhhh and aaaawwwwdddd in unison. Me too I definitely wowed with the rest of the women, wishing it was I who had chosen that particular gift.

Anyway, the balloons that had questions had them answered by a team of experts who included paediatrican, a gyanaecologist, a doula (I still need to fully understand what a doula is), a midwife and a reverend. Yes, a reverend. And a male one for that matter.

The host Anne Ngugi I must say was good as she engaged the audience quite well. I especially loved how she kept sharing her personal experiences as a mum. Her motherhood experience is indeed motivational. Incase you don’t know, Anne Ngugi is mother to 7 year old baby girl Angel, who was born with hydrocephalus (Congenital hydrocephalus is a buildup of excess cerebrospinal fluid in the brain at birth. The extra fluid can increase pressure in the baby’s brain, causing brain damage and mental and physical problems. Finding the condition early and treating it quickly can help limit any long-term problems. But long-term effects mostly depend on what caused the fluid buildup, how bad it gets, and how the baby responds to treatment) -WebMD.

Anne Ngugi’s story is what I would otherwise call an ‘eternally inspirational’ one, and you can read it here http://www.standardmedia.co.ke/archives/InsidePage.php?id=1144009393&cid=300.

All in all, the baby shower session was quite informative and educational, especially to the pregnant women. Had I known about this fair last year when I was expecting, I would’ve definitely attended it.

On Sunday, I attended the pregnant women beauty pageant. I will blog about it tomorrow so be sure to check in for that.

Meanwhile, I woke up this morning to the sad news of Professor Wangari Maathai’s passing on last night. That totally killed my mood. I had the opportunity of meeting Wangari when I was in active journalism. She was an exceptional woman, a great environmentalist. She fought a good fight this one. Rest in Peace Wangari Muta Maathai. The trees, the earth and its inhabitants will miss you. RIP.

Do Mothers Ever Stop Praying?

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
1

If there is someone who I know prays a lot, it’s my mum. She dedicates tons of hours each day saying both loud and silent prayers for her children. First thing in the morning when she wakes up, she dedicates her first hour to prayers for her four children, mentioning each of us by name and committing us and our families unto the Lord. And she does the same just before she sleeps at night. And during the day, she keeps praying silently as she goes about her business. Many are the times I have experienced a miraculous breakthrough when I was going through difficult moments, only later on to realize that at that very moment, my mum was down on her knees. I believe my siblings and I are where we are today because of my mum’s fervent prayers, prayers she says from the depths of her heart.

I was discussing this issue with my colleague Mama Natalie, who similarly told me that her mother prays for all her six children. Their firstborn is 41 years old, a grown man with four children, yet their mum still prays for him as though he were a little babe -just as she does with all the others.

It was also interesting to note that Mama Natalie herself prays fervently for her 4 year old daughter Natalie. Mama Natalie, who is currently VERY pregnant (she’s due next week) tells me she’s began praying for her unborn baby right from the moment she discovered she was expecting (just like I did with Kitty). Right now, her prayers have intensified as she awaits the big day. (As I write this, Mama Natalie has just gotten off the phone with her mum. Her mother says she’s been up all night and morning interceding forher safe delivery next week).

Morning prayer© Photographer: Mossel | Agency: Dreamstime.com

And me too prays a lot for Kitty. I pray for him every single day, every hour and every minute. I put him in God’s hands and ask him to watch over him. I pray that he will follow God’s ways, and that he will prosper in all spheres of his life (In other news, Kitty’s first name is Nawiri –Swahili for prosper).

And so I’ve been analyzing this praying thing by mothers. In this my olden years, my mum still prays for her children the same way she used to pray for us when we were infants. Mama Natalie’s mum prays for all her six children, even now when they are all grown. Mama Natalie prays for her one (and a half children). And now, the way I fervently commit Kitty into the Lord’s hands –I’ve just been wondering -is this something that I’ll do for the rest of his life, even when he’s all grown up and has moved out of my nest and has even created his own family? Do tell me -do mothers ever stop praying for their children?

But why do mothers pray so hard for their children anyway?

Is it because we fear something bad will happen to them? Because most of the times when we’re praying so hard, it’s when we’re asking God to protect them –protect them because we fear something bad might happen to them or what? Are our fervent prayers driven by the fear of the unknown? I’ll be damned if I know the answer to that.

African Christian woman© Photographer: Poco_bw | Agency: Dreamstime.com

Maybe it’s because we know of what has happened to other children, to other mothers that we fear that the same might happen to our children. Maybe we pray fervently because we are cognizant of the fact that there is nothing special about us, vis-à-vis what has happened to other mums cannot similarly happen to us.

But you know what? Our lives and those of our children are in God’s hands. The best we can do is put our complete trust in him. And by the way never doubt what God can do.

African Christian woman© Photographer: Poco_bw | Agency: Dreamstime.com

So tell me, do you pray for your kids? And tell me too –do mothers ever stop praying for their children?

Lillian Maingi-Barasa: Every Woman Must Take a Break from Work

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
3

Lillian Maingi-Barasa is the editor of a Beauty and Fashion Magazine called Salon Business Solutions. She also runs her own communications consultancy outfit.

Lillian is mother to three girls aged eight, three and one and half years. She refers to her daughters as ‘The Power Puff Girls’. MUMMY TALES talks to Lillian about her life as career mum.

How has been your motherhood experience?

It has been great no doubt. Granted, there are a couple of challenges that come along with motherhood, but they all add to the greatness of the experience. Amidst all the challenges, the bodily changes and the immense responsibilities that parenting brings, I see it as a God given opportunity to prove that I am worthy of his trust to take care of his angels (my power puffs).

Describe your typical work day

My day begins at around 6.30am when my two youngest daughters zoom into my bedroom for catch up time (I operate a morning open-door policy as this allows me to spend some quality time with them before I leave for office.) I then feed them breakfast before preparing for work.

My office hours are flexible and I am not required to be in the office between 8am-5pm like most people. I get to the office at around 9am and my exit hours are never defined. Sometimes I leave early while other times I leave late at night, especially when we are preparing the magazine for press.

However, I try as much as possible to be home before supper so that I can catch up with my eldest daughter, who is in Standard 3. I check her homework, sign her class diary, then sit back and listen to all the cases of who broke whose toy, who rode whose bike and other such related tales that children love narrating to their parents.

I always ensure my daughters are all asleep by 9pm and once this is done, it is time to put up my feet and catch up with what has happened in the country by watching the news bulletins. This is also the time my husband and I get to catch up.

I am always in bed by 10.30pm.

While at work, how often do you call home to find out if ‘everything is ok’?

Of late I don’t call home every now and then to check on how they are doing like I used to. I guess I have fallen into the system of trusting that they will be fine because I pray before leaving the house for work.

Describe your weekends

I don’t have a routine for my Saturdays because depending on what is scheduled for the day, I will either be working, attending a friends’ or family function, or I will be in the salon with my girls. Sometimes we spend the entire Saturday in the house trying out recipes or just watching cartoons. Other times we spend the day at recreational centers, especially those that have bouncing castles and swings. My typical Sunday begins with church, then lunch at a restaurant before the family returns home to rest.

How do you balance your work life and family life?

My family is my number one priority. I do not take in extra work and I don’t go home with my office. Even my boss knows I do not pick official calls once I leave the office. I have also had to put on hold a number of personal development undertakings because I want to be there during my kids’ formative years. These are some of the sacrifices that a mother has to make.

It also helps that I stopped trying so hard to be a superwoman or supermum. I just found that things fell into place somehow.

Do you ever get ‘me’ time?

I do, but it does not come automatically. It has to be carefully planned and executed. I for example catch up with my friends on Friday evenings for a few hours. Sometimes I lock my bedroom and let the girls know mum is resting. Thankfully, they respect my space when I tell them I need it.

Have you ever considered being a stay at home mum?

Yes. I was one for a whole year. Like I said, I put my family first before anything else. My last two daughters follow each other closely and it only made sense to be at home while they grew. I believe every woman must take a compulsory break from her working years and touch base with herself and her children.

This break was greatly beneficial to me because I was able to closely monitor my kids’ growth and development. We have such a tight bond such that it sometimes makes their father jealous of us. The break I took also helped me train my househelp well, teaching her how to do things in the manner I wanted.

I also rediscovered my calling as a wife and mum (sometimes in the rat race we loose this very important calling and assume we are only good as co- providers in the family).

What is the fun part about raising girls?

Girls are thrillers. From their rivalry to trying to play mummy to ganging up against each other, they are a fulltime commitment. I especially love it when they decide to put up fashion shows for their mummy, using all my lessos and scarves to dress up and display their creative designs. Even my youngest girl is forced to balance on mum’s heels! My power puff girls love having their pictures taken as they conduct their fashion shows. I would never know how to raise a boy.

What dreams do you have for your daughters?

I first and foremost want them to grow in the full knowledge of the power of God. I strongly believe they were born to be great women and I will support them in their respective career choices. I am their number one fan and they know that.

Any major lesson(s) you’ll be keen on imparting on your girls?

Yes. They will have to know that not all boys are as good as their dad and their uncles. I also want them to know that it is normal to grow breasts and to undergo monthly periods.

Most importantly, I keep on telling them they are powerful beyond their imaginations and that they deserve every opportunity to excel in this world. I also what them to learn about the value of hard work and money management. Each of them has some duties in the house and they all have a piggy bank. When they do their chores well, I prepare for them their favorite meal, as well as hug them for a job well done.

What are some of your best moments as a mother?

The joy of watching each of my girls grow from infancy to where they are today is priceless. I am a very hands-on parent and I record each of their milestones in my heart. I strive to be there for them always.

Another favorite moment of mine is when I return home in evening at the end of a hectic work day, only to be received by their innocent faces smiling brightly at me. At such moments, I forget all work related troubles, and the office fatigue I have with me gets out of the window.

Another highlight, like I mentioned, is when they decide to treat me to a fashion show.

Your lowest moments?

I hate it when any of my kids is unwell. It makes me feel very helpless. My lowest moment has to be the time my firstborn was admitted in hospital for two weeks in January this year with Malaria. I would have traded anything to ease her pain but all I could do is wait and pray. I went for three straight nights without sleep, just watching the drips and drugs get changed by the medical team.

How is your husband where raising your children is concerned?

Our roles are very distinct. I have never found him changing diapers or attempting to feed the kids. But he will always accompany me to the clinics and tuck them into bed every night. He is in-charge of their medication (when they are unwell) and he plays with them more than I do. Of late, he is learning to live with their noise.

What is your experience with housegirls? Any advice to fellow mums regarding housegirls?

Housegirls are a mixed package. I never had any problems with the nanny’s who raised my eldest daughter in her early years. She was raised by only two housegirls until she was four years old.

However, the coming of my second born ushered me to the world of unreliable and unpredictable housegirls!

In the last four years, I must have had over ten housegirls. Some did not know what they wanted, others did not do their job to my satisfaction while others simply could not cope.

But I have been blessed with one who came in last year January and she is still on. She manages my kids like a professional.

Advice

  • Housegirls are first and foremost human beings. Treat them with respect.
  • When you employ a housegirl, always keep in mind that her number one responsibility is your baby. Your house and laundry can be handled later. As long as your child is well taken care of, quit the cleanliness fussing. After all, she was not the one in charge of your other duties before she came in.
  • Please do not lock up juice and margarine in the cabinet. She will eat your baby’s food. It’s amazing how we do not trust them with our property yet we leave them with our most treasured possessions (the babies)!

Would you like to share your motherhood story? Then let Mummy Tales interview you. Contact maryanne@mummytales.com

Its Five Months Already!

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
4

My boy turns 5 months old tomorrow. First he was 5 seconds, then 5 minutes, then 5 days, then 5 weeks and now he’s 5 months old. I guess in no time he’ll be 5 years old.

So how has he been and what has he been up to?

Kitty has been good, and what he has been up to is making me and all those who love him very happy.

I especially love the way he talks. Whenever Kitty wants to tell me something, he chuckles, spreads his arms apart, raises them in the air then kicks his legs all over, but still the poor words cannot come out of his mouth. All he usually manages is prolonged aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa….bbbbbbbuuuuuuuuuu sounds, afterwhich he then looks at me with this expectant look of: “you get wharram saying ma’?”

No Kitty, I don’t get what you say. But I just totally love the way you say it.

Then when he’s bored and just chilling, he usually tells stories to himself. This he does by just going on and on and on and on rumbling and rumbling. In between, he takes pauses to laugh at his own jokes. And when he is beating these stories, he usually gallops. By galloping I mean he kicks his legs in the air in a coordinated rhythm and with supersonic speed. He puts his feet together and begins kicking them in the air at the same time. Like the way a kangaroo hops with its feet together. He does this so fast and with so much vigor as though he were competing in a race, prompting his father to ask him if he’s attempting to give Ezekiel Kemboi compe, and if he will do the Kemboi jig when he’s done galloping/hopping. To which Kitty usually stares at him blankly and with a toothless grin, then chuckles and begins galloping again.

Then, he has since discovered that when he puts his lips together, he can produce sounds by vibrating them. So he usually does the vibrations for hours on end, and the thing with vibrating his lips is that he produces lots of spit –something that he loves very much. The more the spit, the more the vibrations and the more the merrier for him.

Then my boy just loves grabbing at anything and putting everything in his mouth. He eats my clothes, my hands, my hair, everything. Give him anything and it goes direct into his mouth. Now, I love reading newspapers when I get home in the evening, and the other day I was holding him while reading the newspaper and was quite pleased with him because he was silent and just relaxing. Only for me to turn the page and realize he had nibbled the entire half of the newspaper page!

And then, he also loves nibbling on his toes. Kitty looks for any opportunity to get his toes into his mouth. His socks barely last on his feet for more than 5 minutes, for he happily yanks the socks off and before you know it, he has his foot in his mouth. I don’t know for how long this foot-in-mouth business of his will last.

Theeeeeen, Kitty fears darkness! At night, I have to ensure he has slept completely before I switch off the lights. Many are the times he has turned in his sleep and when he instinctively suspects the lights are off, then opens his eyes halfway and discovers that they are indeed off, he lets out the shrillest scream you ever heard and cries endlessly after that, totally refusing to be comforted. Many are the times I have had to sleep with the lights on. I don’t know what he fears about the darkness, because you can’t say that he fears the ghosts that lurk in the dark because he doesn’t even know what a ghost is. If you have any advice on how I can sort out this situation, let me know please.

Then, Kitty’s hair looks rather interesting. It is a half box/half pank/half Mohawk/half Jordan. I understand he is losing his baby hair. But I also think his hair is falling off because of the way he places his head when he sleeps. I am constantly urged to cut his hair but I’m not in a hurry to do so. I think he looks all so handsome and lovely the way he is with his mathogothash hairstyle. I will cut it someday but not now.

But the best part of the day is when I get to play with him in the evening. His best game is when I hide my face in my hands pretending to have disappeared, then suddenly shewing myself to him. This makes him chuckle and laugh so hard till I see the little tongue behind his throat. Sometimes I hide under the bed or behind the door then suddenly reappear, calling out his name in the process. This I do this repeatedly and it excites him so much until his eyes tear with laughter and his lungs ache until he can laugh no more. Oooohhhh, don’t I just love my little boy!

Such moments are priceless, and I thank God everyday for the blessing of motherhood. It’s been a wonderful five months and I give thanks to the Almighty for this experience.

Happy five month birthday Kitty. See you in the evening for our favorite game.

image: dreamstime.com

Why do Women Judge Each Other?

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
5

My toe nails right now -they are a sight to behold. I have been trying and trying and trying many a time to find time to go for a pedicure, in vain. Thank God for this cold weather because I can get away with wearing closed shoes as I would be totally embarrassed if I had to wear open shoes because them toes don’t look too good.

You know the way women have bad hair days? Me, I’m currently having some really bad toe nail days.

In the past, weekends are when I used to have all the free time to engage myself in self-pampering activities such as doing my nails and hair. However, I have recently discovered that my weekends seem to have only 6 hours in a day. I somehow just can’t get enough hours in my day. I wake up early on Saturday morning and before I know it, its night time already. And shortly thereafter, I’m watching Sunday Live with Julie Gichuru. Watching Sunday Live is not usually very nice for me because it always signals the end of the weekend. *Sad smiley* And that’s when I always realize that I haven’t done all the things I needed to do. Such as engage myself in self-pampering activities.

My current situation has got me thinking about a conversation I had with some pals of mine sometime back. Now, one of them had told us about this lady who had gone to the salon to get her hair and nails did. Turns out that she had gone to the salon along with her five week old baby. Yes, five week old baby.

We were about seven of us, and we all had different reactions about this scenario. Some were totally miffed about why a mother would take her five week old baby to the salon –to be exposed to all those fumes, noise, pollutants, smells and possible ‘dirt’ at the salon. Others were of the opinion that maybe the mother didn’t have a choice but had to bring the baby along. Some thought she was totally irresponsible. Some didn’t see anything wrong with that. Yet others condemned her for being selfish and putting her beauty needs first before concern for the baby, for did she really have to do her hair and nails –it isn’t a matter of life or death afterall…. the debate went on and on with some castigating her, others supporting her and others having no opinion at all.

And now with my current bad toe nail situation, I’m reflecting on that conversation again.

You know what? We women really tend to judge each other. A lot. Sometimes very harshly. I admit I have many a time judged –just as much as I have been judged. Judging I guess usually results from seeing someone do something that you yourself think you would never do. When you frown on other people’s decisions. When you see someone do something that you think is ridiculous, stupid, childish or something like that. When you roll your eyes at them. Or shake your head in disgust. When you call your girlfriend up (as a matter of urgency) and begin the conversation with “Imagine you can’t believe what nani did… “ and then end the conversation with “Imagine how can she do that?” then you both sigh and say ‘talk laters dear”. Then hang up.

Yap, you may deny it, but we are all guilty of judging. Think of the following things that you might have said:

–          What is she thinking wearing such tight clothes?

–          You mean that’s the best hairstyle she could get?

–          You mean she’s pregnant – again!!!???

–          Why oh why did she marry that man? Of all the people she could have chosen???

–          Why is she still single at that age?

–          Why doesn’t she have any children? Or why does she have those many children (in this economic times)?

–          Why on earth is she a housewife?

–          Why does she still breastfeed that big baby?

–          Why are they paying that much rent instead of mortgaging? And ati they have two cars and yet they’re paying rent?

–          Why do they take their kids to that school yet they can afford to take them to a much better one?

–          How can she bring her children to such a place (an entertainment joint)? What is she thinking keeping them here till this time?

–          And so on and so forth (feel free to add to the list)

So question is –to what extent should we really care about what people say about us and our decisions?

Me thinks that if we all gave a damn about what other people say, we probably wouldn’t be where we are today. People are always gonna judge you anyway, whether you do good or bad. Or if you do nothing at all. Maybe it’s just human nature, I donno.

But all in all, I must get my toes done this weekend because they surely do look like Nebuchadnezzar’s. (Did I just judge Nebuchadnezzar’s name?)

image: dreamstime.com

When I Badly Needed to Express

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
1

Yesterday, I had an interesting episode . Those of you who hang around me know that I’m determined to exclusively breastfeed Kitty for his first 6 months. I have about a month and a half more to go towards achieving this goal –yaaaay! By the way exclusive breastfeeding is certainly not for the fainthearted. It requires many a commitment and many a sacrifice.

So anyway, how I do this exclusive breastfeeding is I express first thing in the morning, then at lunch time in the office, and then first thing when I get back home in the evening.

What happens when I get to the office is I drink loads and loads of hot cocoa. To maintain good breastmilk supply, you know you have to drink lots of liquids. Hot cocoa works well for me. Now my employer provides us with hot beverages including hot milk+water thank God. I drink a cup of hot cocoa every hour from 9am to 1pm, such that by the time I’m due to express at lunch time, I have many milk.

So yesterday lunch time, I merrily strolled my way into the expressing room, then began taking out the milking paraphernalia. But oh no! I discovered I had forgotten to remember to pack all the expressing paraphernalia (wait a minute –is ‘forgotten to remember’ proper English?)

What I forgot at home is the part of the pump that gets plugged into the socket, and which when power is switched on turns the pump into action. I’m not an electrician so I know my description is poor but I hope you get the picture.

This was not a good discovery because the time was 1pm and I wasn’t seeing how I was gonna get to 5.30pm without expressing as that’s the time I usually get home. My breasts were full and I could hear the milk tapping on the door threatening: “release us now or we burst out mama!”

If I had known I’d forgotten some of the pumping paraphernalia, then I wouldn’t have consumed all those cups of hot cocoa. I had an agonizing afternoon I tell you. My breasts kept getting fuller and fuller, and with it a great amount of discomfort. I kept fearing my chest would explode poooooof! anytime.

The boobies were aching from almost bursting and so I didn’t want anything to touch them at all. I didn’t even want my arms to be next to them, so all afternoon long I walked around with my arms a good separate distance from my upper body. As in I was walking around like a puffed up bouncer –si you know how those body building people walk with their shoulders and arms spread apart. Kinda like Johnny Bravo.

And when the clock finally struck 4.30pm, mimi huyoooooo I dashed out of the office as though I were being chased by a lion.  Strapping on my safety belt was even problematic as it only added to the pain and discomfort I was feeling, but I had to strap it on anyway. Me loves my safety and me likes obeying traffic rules.

Then began my journey and with how I was feeling, I didn’t want anyone or anything to delay me from getting home. While driving, I felt like breaking all the traffic rules and just speeding home already. I felt like jumping all the traffic lights, driving atop pavements and on pedestrian paths just like matatu drivers. I felt like driving with full lights on, beeping my horn and flashing my wipers at every slow driver, then giving them bad daggers and a bad sneer when overtaking them. I felt like totally ignoring zebra crossings and daring any pedestrian to cross my path. I was feeling invincible.

Then I wanted a cop to dare stop me. I wanted to ignore all cops and zoom past them while mentally telling them ‘mnisimamishe muone’. By the way there are three categories of people I would advice cops not to dare stop and they are:

a)      A pregnant woman

b)      A lactating mum who forgot part of her breastfeeding paraphernalia at home and her breasts are now full and is rushing home before her chest explodes poooof!

c)       That guy who was once caught on camera beating up a traffic cop. The poor cop saw red that day -literally.

I was really spoiling for a fight. I kept looking at matatu drivers and kept daring them to cross my path –literally. Some matatu drivers can really annoy you. You actually wonder how they think –or if they think at all. And just like the cops, matatu drivers should be wary of these three characters:

a)      A pregnant woman

b)      A lactating mum who forgot part of her breastfeeding paraphernalia at home and her breasts are now full and is rushing home before her chest explodes poooof!

c)       Professor Arthur Obel.

Now the more I thought about matatu drivers and how they would waste my time on the road –stopping aimlessly to pick passengers, blocking me, suddenly cutting into my path or suddenly taking a turn without having bothered to indicate, the more I got worked up. I think I was even puffing and fuming at the mere thought of what I would do. I was ready to fight anyone or anything. I was ready for war. I felt like a Maasai herdsman searching for the lion that had killed one of his dear goats.

But thankfully, I had a smooth ride home. No major traffic, no cops stopping me, no matatu drivers behaving badly. And no chest explosion. Phew! I wonder if I would have executed all those mental threats I had been contemplating (hint to self: me loves my safety and me likes obeying traffic rules).

Anyway once home, I expressed 450ml in exactly 37 minutes. Yeah, it was that bad.

Have a lovely weekend.

image:dreamstime.com

Miss Babes Walks down the Aisle

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
4

Last Saturday I attended the wedding of my good friend and one of the most ardent fans of Mummy Tales. Her name is Miss Babes. Now, Miss Babes is a character and a half. She is one of those people who just know how to crack your ribs –just by saying something. Or even by saying nothing at all. She is full of loads of humor. She brightens up many my day.

 

And besides being able to make one laugh, Miss Babes is the kind of friend you can always count on to come through for you. She has been there for me in moments when I really needed help. We sure do need more friends like those in our lives.

So anyway, the wedding was quite fun and lovely –and it was all the more interesting because of the ethnic fusion –a blend of lots of Luo music and culture + lots of Kikuyu music and culture. Nicest!

Just pronounced husband and wife

 

Then I loved Miss Babe’s wedding gown. It was ivory in color, strapless and had a fish tail design. It had some cute decorative pieces, and I loved the way it fitted her ‘just right’ especially at the bust and hips area coz it brought out her curves so well. And then it flowed so nicely at the bottom –into a kind of small train.

 

And then, I loved how she and her bridal party danced their way to the cake tent from the bridal tent for the cutting cake ceremony. The young and agile (very good) dancers swayed their limbs to tunes of Flavor’s Nwa Baby song – sawa sawa sawa le…..asssshhhhh….. I understand it’s the latest hit in town. It was just too entertaining! And Miss Babes is not one to not take advantge of any dancing opportunity. Akose achekwe?

 

Then, I also got to meet my former high school classmate Susan Ogoma. Incidentally, she is a sister to the groom. Small world it is I tell you. Suzie and I had lots of laughs in high school, grew up in the same neighborhood and it was good to see her again –now both as moms and not the little young girls we used to be.

Miss Babes, you pulled off a lovely wedding. And you were a very glamorous bride.

 

I wish you all of God’s blessings in your marriage. May he guide your path as a family, and may you live to see decades together as a couple. Many kisses to Renee too.

Why do mothers take so long before they FINALLY leave?

By
Maryanne W. Waweru
-
5

Continuing from yesterday’s post, where I had attended a birthday party, I had told you that I always used to wonder what on earth women busy themselves with when they say they have to leave a place. While I would understand why we take long to leave the house to go somewhere –because of the make up and changing wardrobes 27 times, I never quite understood what it is we do when it’s time to leave a place when we’re done.

But what used to puzzle me even more about this is mothers, because I used to see mums with kids suddenly beginning to do a thousand things and I used to wonder –what were you doing all that time –couldn’t you have done all these things before?

But now I know *munching on humble pie*.

Experience after attending Shohi’s birthday bash has taught me better. Now, remember I had told you I attended the party with my relatives and we had 5 kids between us, aged between 1 – 4 years.

So when we announced it was time to leave, the host suddenly informed us that there was some wine in the house, as well as some coke (soda). Despite our very ‘weak’ protests, we indeed discovered that we were somewhat thirsty, so those who take wine took and those who drink soda drank soda. Imbibing these drinks took us around 30 minutes.

Then we announced our departure again. But the year old baby girl had to undergo a diaper change first. That took a while, say 15 minutes because in a foreign house you just can’t change the diaper anywhere so by the time you find a good place to change the diaper and finish all the business associated with diaper changing, many minutes have gone by.

So with the diaper business completed, it was time to finally leave. But then, we could not find the shoes for two of the kids. It took us 15 minutes to find two shoes, one of each – a pink little princess shoe and a black boot. Exhausted, we sat down to catch our breath for a few minutes before embarking on the search again. We drank a little bit of wine and a little bit of soda while catching our breath. And when we returned to searching for the missing shoes, we enlisted the help of one of our husbands, who by this time was getting a little impatient. Finally, after 20 minutes, we found the missing shoes.

So far, it is 1 hour 20 minutes since we first announced that we were leaving. But now we were serious, we were SERIOUSLY going to leave. No jokes this time.

But we needed to first dress the kids in their jumpers. Interestingly, kids don’t like wearing cardigans and jackets because we had earlier dressed them but while we were busy looking for their shoes, we found they had long removed them. Beats me why they do that. But before we redressed them in their jumpers, we had to find them first. Kids have this knack for suddenly disappearing when you need them most. I don’t know how long finding them took because when you find one and sit her/him down, you turn around to remove the cardigan from your baby bag and when you turn back –the child is gone -screaming herself back into the bouncing castle.

So when we were finally done dressing them, one of them suddenly felt the urge to take a leak. Yaani she urgently needed to susu. And in this cold weather when they are overdressed, by the time you remove the boots, the leggings, the panty… and actually get them to susu, one child takes like 5 minutes –and when they eventually pee, it’s a measly two drops! Then when the other kids realized that one of them was peeing, even them they suddenly felt the need to pee too. Gosh, would we ever leave? So the susuing process lasted close to 15 minutes. Thank God none of them needed to pupu because waaah! Haya, we were finally done with the loo business.

Finally, for the FINAL time, we were ready to leave. But not before we gathered all our things together. So by the time we got to look for our bags of stuff (for we had bought stuff on impulse from one businesswoman who had lots of nice nice things), it took another 5 minutes. Then we FINALLY were ready to leave. (By the way I am now tired of using the word ‘final’).

But wait – my mwarikhwa (muiru, or sister in law if you like) couldn’t find her car keys. We searched and searched and opened the baby bags and handbags all over again, removed the stuff then returned them back one by one, but we couldn’t find the keys. We turned the seat cushions upside down, knelt on the floor and searched under the seats, under the tables, under the carpet, searched in our pockets, in the kid’s pockets…basically everywhere. We eventually found the keys like 10 minutes later –they were in mwarikhwa’s baby bag afterall.

Then we said our goodbyes to the people we were leaving behind and who were still enjoying the bash. The goodbyes took another I don’t know how long because we had to hug them then catch up a little bit before we finally hugged them goodbye for the final time (am I still using the word final?)

Then we began packing the kids into the 2 cars we had. Settling them down and strapping them into their car seats consumed yet another many minutes. Then the occupants in the two different cars began saying goodbye to each other. Never mind we were still meeting the following day for yet another family function so you wonder why we were taking so long to say goodbye, hugging and re-hugging each other. Geez! So anyway  mwarikwha drove out first, then I walked towards my car, ready to leave with its occupants. Them, they were already seated and anxiously waiting to leave while I had been bidding mwarikhwa the final goodbye.

But oh no!!! I couldn’t locate my car keys. I had them when we were strapping the kids into the car, but now I couldn’t remember where I had placed them. So together with my brother in law, we searched far and wide –around the parking lot, in the boot, on the car’s ceiling, on the bonnet, in my handbag, our pockets – everywhere – before we finally (oops, there goes the word again) located the keys on the co-driver’s seat –my seat.

FINALLY (yes finally) we were on our way. Thank God I was not the one driving because I was very exhausted, not from the bash, but from all the processes of preparing to leave the bash. I was completely kaput!

As for how long the ‘leaving’ process took  –your guess is as good as mine.

But is all good because there is nothing better than spending time with family. Love you all.

All in all, now I towtally understand why it takes forever before mums finally leave a place. I wonder how it will be like when I start taking my ka-mayai Kitty with me.

1...686970...72Page 69 of 72

Advertisement

POPULAR POSTS

IN THE NEWS

POPULAR CATEGORIES

© Copyright 2015|Powered By Diwecs Business Solutions
error: Not Allowed