MONDAY IN HOUSE NEWS

 It is another beautiful Monday.....OWN IT!!!!

MONDAY MEMO

Hey!!!!

You having a good day? Lets thank God for today.....

I just invited guests for food on Easter Monday and now i am thinking if i should cancel cos i will start to complain soon thats its too much stress to cook.....LOL

I ordered for Okro made with Ogbono and i think i will throw it in the bin cos whats that? is that how okro mixed with ogbono tastes? it spoilt that okro taste for me and i cant deal at all.. Or maybe the person didnt make it well? or maybe its me cos i hate that ogbono smell....like baby poop.

The BV always clapping at me in clapback post say i no dey quick enable comment....Didnt i say that i have heard? most times i am in the front making posts before going back to enable comments so it looks like i am slow..Please i heard your advice and taken it..stop over clapping..I don hear!!!!...

Sandra my oga, i salute oh.......(side eyes at jealous anon from last week) LMAO!!!

Ya all have a nice day and stay safe.....

I am still thinking how far people will go to settle scores..why assassinate someone? it is scary oh...Hmmm!!!

Tight hugs to everyone

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NOTORIOUS FOR JESUS

I am always surprised when I see how people wait until someone is gone before they begin to celebrate them. So many people knew Kola Onifoto, yet very few truly celebrated him while he was alive. It reminds me painfully of what happened at my mother’s wake.
The preacher asked that anyone from my father’s side of the family who wished to speak about her should please come forward. But no one moved. Not a single person. They all remained seated, quietly watching.
My siblings and I were seated at the front. I turned my head and looked toward the section where they were sitting and gave them a stern stare. They saw me. I know they did. Yet none of them stood up.
In that moment, the pain I felt was indescribable, an ache so deep it felt like my heart was being torn apart. Not because my mother was a saint, but because she had been good to every single one of them. No one had to tell me; I grew up witnessing it myself. I saw the gifts she gave them, clothes, food, money, during festive seasons and even when there was no occasion at all.
My mother attended her husband’s family functions faithfully, almost like water flowing without resistance. She showed up again and again. She was the kind of woman who tried so hard to be accepted, until the marriage eventually took a turn that could never be repaired.
She worked for a well-known company where salaries were paid every two weeks. She owned a car and a house, and she was incredibly generous. My mother was not perfect, but she truly did her best.
Her marriage to my father was deeply turbulent, and it poisoned her relationship with his family. He filled their hearts with so much bitterness against her. Still, I swear that if just one person had stood up to speak about her that day, it would have eased the pain a little.
But no one came forward. The room was silent. So I stood up.
I gathered what courage I had, walked to the microphone, and spoke about the one thing everyone in that audience had probably benefited from at some point, her generosity.
When I finished speaking, there was scattered applause. I glanced briefly across the crowd. On many faces, I could see guilt. On others, sympathy. It was written plainly in their expressions.
As I sat down, my fiancé, who is now my husband, sent me a text from where he was seated at the back
"That was a great speech. Your mum would be proud."
Hot tears filled my eyes as the choir began the closing hymn. Yet, in the middle of that pain, I felt something, relief. I was glad that I had found the courage to say what so many people had not been kind enough to say, both when she was alive and even after she was gone.
This is why we must learn to celebrate people while they are still here. Give them their flowers while they can still smell them.
Because tomorrow is never promised.

Reading this blurred everything around me......if you have lost a parent, you will understand, if you have lost both, you will understand very well...

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TEACHER LIFE

A few days ago, one of my pupils wrote me a note:
“I love Miss C.”
It was simple.
It was sweet.
And honestly, I needed it.
I was having a rough morning that day, but that tiny note lifted my mood instantly. I hugged her, smiled, and even posted it on my status.

I knew this was just the beginning
The next morning, I walked into class and… ah.
Love notes everywhere.
On my table.
Inside my drawer.
“My Miss C, I love you.”
“Miss C, you are the best.”
Different handwriting. Different spellings. Same intention.
These children had gone home and reported that Miss C was collecting love notes and I can only imagine how those conversations went.
My heart was full.
I thanked all of them and carefully kept the notes together in a small folder.
Case closed, right?
Wrong again.
That evening, I received a voice note from a parent.
She was upset.
“Miss C did you throw my child’s note in the trash?”
I was shocked.
I said, “Ma’am, I would never do that.”
She insisted her child told her I threw it away.
Then it clicked.
After school that day, I had cleared out my drawer — old to-do notes, rough papers, things I had already used. Somewhere in that process, this little girl must have seen me throwing papers away… and assumed her note was part of it.
I explained this to her mum.
There was a pause.
Then she said,
“Please, we will write another one. Just keep it in your folder tomorrow, so she can sleep.”
My heart melted.
The next morning, the little girl came in.
This time, with a flower… and a note.
I smiled, hugged her, and said,
“Thank you, I really appreciate it.”
And that was the end of it.
Peace restored.
Indeed children may be small, but their hearts are not.

Eyaaaaaah.....I like you Miss C...You sound really nice and it is easy to see why the kids like you...You have a childlike nature...

Thank you for using your writeups to make us see how it is with kids from a teachers perspective.

Shout out to all the teachers on this Blog.....

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10 Things I Do Freely in France That I Could Never Do Back Home 

When I first relocated to France , I started noticing small moments that made me pause. Simple things I never gave a second thought back home suddenly felt… revolutionary. Before I knew it, I realized I was doing things here I could never do back home. Here are a few :

1. I can walk into any mall just for window shopping and nobody judges me
Back home? Enter a shop and don’t buy anything; especially my Yoruba aunties shop
You start hearing whispers, rolling of eyes .
Some will call you Oloriburuku; Ah, eleyi o ni owo, o kan wá wo nkan ni shop.
Na shämè you go take commot
Here in France? I can stroll into a store, admire the things, touch what I like, walk out… and they’ll say goodbye and have a great day and I leave like a queen. Absolute freedom.

2. I can dress nicely,sit in a café for hours doing absolutely nothing, and nobody thinks I’m lööking for män as a young girl.
Back home? A young girl dressed nicely sitting alone for too long in a café or restaurant?! Ahhhh , people immediately assume “She dey find husband.”
Here, I sit, sip my coffee, scroll, watch life go by, nobody cares. It’s my me-time, my peace, my little world, and I finally feel like I can breathe without assumptions.

3. I can take public transport without anyone judging me
Back home? Hop on a bus or train, and suddenly everybody assumes things . “She no get car,” “He no get mönèy,” “Na everyday this my neighbor dey trek”… the whispers, the side-eyes, the judgment!
Here in France; taking a Bus, train, metro; doesn’t matter if you own a car or not. Everyone rides, everyone walks, some will park their cars and take long walks. No shämè, no whispers, no assumptions. Just freedom and equality on the road.

4. I can dress how I want without judgment
Back home, every outfit is evaluated. Her mama no see her before she commot for house Which kind shoe be this? People will literally turn around and stop to stare . Some annoying ones in Obalende will even reach out with their hands
Here in france;nobody cares. Comfort is king. Freedom is wearing yourself, unapologetically.

5. I can ćřÿ in public without judgment. Sometimes I go to the park and see people sitting calmly cřyïng calmly ; sometimes it’s healing. No they are not screaming . And nobody stands to stare at them and give them those long stares.
Back home, tears are often a secret.
Here; ćřÿ, wipe, breathe… nobody questions .
Freedom is being human.

6. I can smile at strangers and passersby without them thinking this girl or guy want collect number .
It’s a way of greeting people in France.
Back home, this would feel weird, invasive . Person fit look you from head to toe.
Here…Warm, quick smiles are normal. Freedom is human connection without suspicion.

7. In France, I can walk through thick forests alone… no snakes , no animals and nobody asks, ‘What are you doing here? people pack their cars, and walk into thick, green, endless forest;Couples hold hands, runners run, cyclists glide; and you won’t even see things like cöndums on the floor there. Everyone came for nature and they respect her. This is Real freedom. The kind you never get back home.
Back home, I’d never dare. Them no born you well to say na inside bush you want go stroll.

8. I can speak my mind without backlash
Back home, opinions ignite drama . Here..I can disagree, share my truth, and nothing explodes. At first, I expected tension… but freedom is realizing your voice doesn’t have to cause chaos.

9. I can take public transport without stress
Back home…Chaos, pushing, arguments .
Here…everyone stands and wait for their turn:
Trains and buses mostly run smoothly. I sit, relax, and even enjoy the ride. Freedom is a calm commute.

10. I can date freely without everyone pressuring märriagé
Back home? Start dating someone, and suddenly aunties, uncles, even random neighbors act like wedding bells are already ringing  “Ah, dem don meet, na märriáge dem dey plan now!”
Here …Dating is just… dating. Enjoying each other’s company, learning, having fun… and nobody assumes märrïäge tomorrow. Freedom in love is knowing your heart, not society’s timetable.

11. Here you can be single without shámë.
Back home…once you hit your late 20s or 30s and suddenly everyone’s on your case “Where is the boyfriend?” “When will you märry?” 
These days no be only wömèn; mën same story. Society acts like your life isn’t complete without a partner.
Here ; Whether you’re 30, 40, or even 60, single is normal. No judgment, no whispers, no pressure. Freedom is living your life at your own pace, not society’s.
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Hahahahahaha i really enjoyed reading this and everything she talk na true....Too many Judges in Nigeria...Tht mentality of judging in Nigeria eeeeeeeeh, it will never stop...... All the things compared with Naija in this post will never stop...

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WEIRD FACTS

 ----No relationship is ever a waste of your time. If it didn't bring you what you want, it taught you what you didn't want.

 ---To understand and laugh at a joke, your brain needs to do 5 different things: sensory processing, perspective taking, assessing incongruous information, finding it funny and then creating a response. Laughter keeps your brain healthy!

 ---If you don’t like to read, you haven’t found the right book.

--- A "Mouse potato" is someone who spends a lot of time at a computer.

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