Surviving the African Parent

  My mom and I come from different generations. I belong to the generation of questions. She belongs to the generation of obedience.  I belong to the generation of smart technology. She belongs to the generation where phones were as large as my arm. I belong to a liberal generation. She belongs to a traditional one. She belongs to the times where kidnapping was a fairytale, where the roads were safe, where the dollar and the naira had almost the same value. I belong to the … we all know what my time is like. However, our differences make us stronger. Our upbringings have shaped the ways we think to work together in the Nigeria we live in today. The African past and the African present  working together to move forward.  How does your family blend the values of your family and generations to work together?

    A surprise party for dad seemed impossible. He never missed a thing. I mean, he could spot a nail on the road as he was driving. (Yes, it was that bad) Hence, I thought the plan was doomed. Despite the fact that I had given up hope, my mom still had high hopes for the plan. There were many close calls on our end and by the time the D-day came, I was positive it would be a great party, minus the surprise aspect of it. Imagine my shock when he was genuinely surprised? With my reaction you’d have thought the surprise party was for me! ( My mom, by the way, was as relieved-and as smug- as I was shocked) Somewhere between the rain, a few lousy lies and some slip ups( I blame my brothers), I had been positive we had been found out ages ago. It was the best kind of surprise party, the kind that surprises everyone- the planners and recipient alike.

  It was my grandma’s surprise party. Everything was set. Cake? Check. Guests? Double check. Presents? Check. Food? Quadruple check. Decorations? Decorations!!!! So we rushed to the venue, balloons and pump in hand ready to brighten up the place. There was just one little problem… The pump was broken And my mom was envisioning a balloon arc. That meant blowing a hundred+ balloons with our mouths in less that four hours!  My mom got right to it… Me? A bit more reluctantly. Safe to say that while the pictures looked great, my grandma was pleasantly surprised and the guests were in awe, my mouth, and everything I ate the rest of the day (including the supposedly great food) tasted like rubber. 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Comfort. A word that means different things to different people. To me, comfort and being comfortable is settling in on my bed, wrapped in my blanket, cool air blasting. Comfort is watching a movie on my laptop in those conditions with no obligations whatsoever, changing positions at my discretion. Comfort is when I don’t have to get out of that position for hours on end. Comfort is when I’m in the perfect position, watching the perfect movie, wrapped perfectly in a room at the perfect temperature…with no disturbances. It’s just perfect. I call that comfort … My mom calls it lazy .