Follow up, keep at it

Hello, welcome to my channel…Oops blog post. These streets have been quite cold. This girl has been hiding from everything. Is the right word hiding (insert thinking emoji here)? Maybe, maybe not!  I actually have realized that increasingly, my friends have been saying I have been a little quiet, I don’t show up as I did previously and maybe I am a little reserved. Is it true? Yes. There are some holes that you can fall into unconsciously.

For those who know me a little more than the surface, you know life has sometimes thrown curve balls and given me lemons or should I say guavas? And yes, I have made the best guava juice I could possibly be able to, with both ripe and unripe guavas. I hear many call me strong and partly I believe it. But I also know that strength is relative to the observer. For a long time, when the Mister was sick, I stood through it all and fought and held on to my faith with every little thing I had. It worked. I made it. He is a walking miracle, one I have seen literally being pulled from the enemy’s jaws by a faithful God. Fast forward to now, healing continues by the day and truly I am still in awe.

What happened to the “strength” I supposedly had? I think it was a defence mechanism. Super girl, just jumped out and took charge. She prayed, believed, worked, nurtured, basically stretched herself out completely. It worked well for as long as it could, until the reality of carrying the load that came with it began to show. Slow at first but catching on pretty heavy lately. This sounds so strange because from the normal eye view, I should be less stressed, relieved and getting back to normalcy. And for some time, I honestly thought I was until I started to feel exhausted and frustrated with everything. I do literally mean, EVERYTHING. Its hard to manage running a home in all its aspects, tough times at work, your mind (which fights with itself) and many other dynamics.

The answer to the question how I was doing, became automatic without even thinking through it. I would always answer, “I am good / okay / fine.” The inner circle though began to see the strain, but I still saved face or at least tried to. Friends and family would say, if you need help, feel free to ask. Does one ever really feel free? I am not too sure. Everyone in life is going through something tough, the magnitude I believe, is what is different. And yes, you know the help is genuinely offered but you are afraid. I’m not really sure of what.

Back to the present, I am grateful for the people who don’t give up at the “I am good answer”. Those who push a little further, those who pray for me, those who call to make me laugh or even talk about themselves (especially because they know I will only give the fake answers when they ask about me) and throw an encouragement in there because that’s the best way they know how, the ones who say they want to hangout and sample food or a drink (flavoured milk of course). For those who ambush me and force to show up at my house, especially because they know I will always say I am busy. Thank you very much for cracking the shell in your own way. I have been going to a dark place without me fully realizing it and to be honest that’s how depression creeps in faster than you can butter the second slice. Yesterday in the middle of my insomnia and chest issues, I watched an amazing video about a couple who have been married for ten years with a blended family of six lovely children. My greatest take home from them was they got professional help to be able to sustain they family and get along. It was difficult and, on some levels, still is. And they do visit counsellors once in a while, both at an individual and at a family level. Point of my narrative is I will also go back to my professional help. I have been dodging it, I don’t even know why. Even as I do that, always check on your people. If you notice something different, be persistent enough to follow up. Don’t think of being in their space, you are required to be there during such times. They will appreciate you more for it, once they are back to their normal state of mind. I will continue with my narration, even though it’s a bit personal for the purposes of helping someone else or even myself. This is a heavy one so I will leave it there for now.

Feel free to leave a comment or encourage. Chao





Most teens in urban areas are extremely conversant with technology. Ask me, my younger sister was born in 20** well let me just say she is a teen because she will might read this.. 🙂 They are able to use phones much better than we can. They have easier access to the lyrics of favorite songs and artists, heck they even have videos real time. Some of us would have to wait until Young Nation is published each Sunday, for us to cut out the lyrics section and stick it on our Kasuku exercise book. Most probably, it was the 32 pages one as you had to buy it from your savings. It would be placed right next to your bed, at the risk of being asked if all you do is just cram lyrics as opposed to reading. Reading then was considered the ultimate. It probably still is.

My sister got her Kenya Certificate of Primary Education (KCPE) results yesterday and I must say she is the brightest in our family with 433 marks out of 500. If I convert my marks, yes when I did KCPE it was out of 700, I scored 375. I remember being disappointed as I had truly hoped for 600 above. Anyway, I digress. There was a lot of excitement and celebration at home yesterday and this will carry on for quite a while. She already has a good exemption from house chores for a while. But then again, remembering the fact that our parents are Africans, hoping mum and dad are not reading this, that exemption won’t last very long. Hahahaha

From a big sister perspective, I am extremely proud of her. I celebrate her, her hard work, tough spirit and especially her belief in herself. She reminds me a bit of me with her bubbliness, loudness and the belief that she can do anything. In fact, that has given me a renewed spirit. As we grow older for whatever reason, we become more reserved, some of us, and we start doubting the belief that once had of ourselves. I know I have. So today, I am encouraged by that beautiful teen who totally believes in herself / himself and views the world as the place where they can grow their abilities and faith. For the ones who attained their desires, remember it’s easy to get to the top but maintaining it is tough. Keep at it. Put in the effort and follow your dream.

In the same exam, there are other young girls and boys who are like me, when I was 13 or is 14. They feel a little or a lot disappointed that they did not make it to what they desired. Dear teens, we are gifted in different categories and talents. For some, the level of grasping is fast and simple while for others, we have to read a little more. For others, talents like playing football, singing, playing an instrument, cycling, public speaking among very many different talents come naturally. They will be others. Accept the marks but don’t let it pull you down. Let it be a motivator. When you are admitted to that high school, start a fresh. Put your best foot forward, yes in education but also in the talent you have, give it your best. Continue to believe in your dream and work hard for it. I believe in you and so do your parents, relatives and friends. Believe in yourself, it makes a difference and a big one at that. I know my audience may not be teens, but whether it’s a family member, a friend, a younger sibling, please encourage and celebrate them.

Always remind your cool self


Ladies and Gentleman, with that in mind, I am looking at setting up a forum before Christmas to celebrate and encourage these young ones before they go to high school. Do you have some words of encouragement, a story to share? Do you remember what you scored in KCPE? How did it make you feel? What are you doing today? In whichever field, employment or entrepreneurship. This will help them face their future with hope, self-belief and determination seeing people who have made it. Guiding them and walking with them through the journey of life. Kindly get in touch with me, click here to send me an email and let’s ensure that we make a positive impact to our upcoming generations.

On a separate note and project, do you remember when we used to write letters to each other while in high school? Did you have a pen pal? I remember my grandmother would write letters to us, my cousins and I, and she would send the stamps inside the envelope so that we would not have to incur any cost of replying to her. This really helped with my writing skills, it also gave me something to look forward to while in school, especially high school, on the days we would receive mail. And yes, I mean an actual letter, hand written and put in an envelope with the receiver’s name written in calligraphy. Good old times.

Anyway, we are in the process of setting up a local (by this I mean Kenyan) pen pal club, a place where our children, sisters and brothers, in high school will get to write actual letters, have pen pals. The main aim is to open up their minds, writing and communication skills to their age mates in different regions, environments, school and or counties. This will help them appreciate the various parts of our country, the magical places that each has grown around, the various sites that they have and enable them to be able to one day visit and be in the other teen’s shoes for a day or two. In addition, they will learn how to step just a foot away from that computer, tablet or phone and just do some old school writing. Maybe even have a pile of letters to show for it. Are you a parent of a teen and would be interested in growing these skills? Do you have a younger sibling or have a friend with a teen? Click here to send me your details and I will reach out you.

A hearty congratulations to all the great teens that sat for their KCPE exams and may your dreams come true. Continue to work hard in both your education and talent. Above all, ALWAYS believe in yourself and thank the Almighty. You can do anything you set your mind to.


Mama Munchkins’ tales

I remember the concerns of family that Munchkin 1 was late to speak. I remember how I would say words to him, hoping and praying that he would repeat only for him to give me the cutest toothless smile. On the good days, I would wake up and say each child has his/ her own timing for their milestones. On the tougher days, I would remember all the questions of “Bado hajaongea?”,Does he have a heavy tongue?”, “Have you seen a speech therapist?” And to be honest, I actually thought of seeing a speech therapist. And I doubted myself and even wondered if it had anything to do with me being his mom.

Today the little man is 4 years old and is a major chatterbox. I sometimes find myself saying we should watch the cartoons in silence, or asking him to go play outside, I am human. The responsibility of being a mother, a parent at that, is one of the toughest ones. It has no unique manual for their personalities, their milestones, their way of communicating. Prayer and mom’s groups and sharing with friends and family is what gives a guideline.

My Munchkin 2 was born in April 2016. She was a unique beautiful girl who put her hand on her face, at an angle. This meant that she couldn’t pass through the birth canal without breaking it, her hand that is, or crushing her skull. When they checked if I had dilated while in labor, she actually had her hand to say hi to the nurse and Doctor Kigen. So yes, the caesarian section happened. For me, it was horrendous, especially because I compared it to the natural delivery of Munchkin 1. The first few nights, I cried daily. And Munchkin 2 cried a little louder. She had colic. So here I was barely able to pull myself up to breastfeed, and her cry would already wake up all my neighbors. I almost got to postpartum depression. I always remember heartily how Dad would come home to help me bathe her, and thankfully he didn’t mind. It actually became our ritual. And he helped me get out of the darkness.

Each clinic we went to, the pediatrician would ask if she cries that much as she looked for a better option to calm the colic. Finally Bonnisan offered a sort of relief, at least it was better than the two other options we had tried. Dad would be present for all the clinics, to the point the pediatrician thought he was the better option to calming Munchkin 2 down. With time the colic faded off and we now enjoyed more coos than cries. I enjoyed breast feeding as I always had until one warm October morning when things started changing. Dad got sick. At first I thought it was a short illness but it ended up being really serious. He was admitted in hospital for over a month. (That’s a story for another day, I am still not ready.) Life changed. In between the running to the hospital and home, thinking about him, munchkin 1 & 2, not eating or taking fluids well, the breast milk started reducing. I decided to go the formula way while still trying to substitute. Dad’s condition was getting worse. He had brain surgery. I would rarely see my children as I spent the day in hospital. In the evening, I would try to balance the energy between chatting with Munchkin 1 while trying to breastfeed Munchkin 2. The milk was so little. She would cry until I substitute. It took me a while but finally I accepted that it was torture to her as she wanted to suckle but there was nothing. I finally gave up breastfeeding. And for the first time, I will accept and share that I thought of myself as a failure. I wondered if she had gotten enough immunity, if I had been unfair to her and yet her brother had a longer time to enjoy it. It took a while to accept it. Its tough being a mummy.

I introduced packet milk to her as the cost of formula was too high in between all the other things we were experiencing. She loved it. She became less edgy and soon enough she slept longer hours. In fact in a week or two she mastered the art of sleeping through the night. As dad got better, I got more time to spend with my babies. Now she is one and a half years, I am grateful that she is doing well healthy, chatty and the sweetest ever.

Munchkin 2Her brother, whom I thought had an issue with speech is teaching her how to talk. I am so grateful for my nanny who hang in there with me and took up a greater responsibility to allow me to balance between hospital and babies. Today dad is well, he is almost back to his optimum. Thanks to the 2016 April mums who stood with me and encouraged me, we have a lovely bond because of our babies.  Thank you to my family and great friends.

Mums be encouraged that it always gets better. And babies grow, a day at a time. And God protects them and gives us grace for each new day. I just might get a third born to enjoy the breastfeeding experience once more.

Dare to follow your own path

Greetings earthlings…

I have had such an interesting time with the crazy feedback that my friends have gotten lately from the “new craze” app Sarahah.

Before I get into my perspective, clearly most people have zero chills. I have gone through the couple of messages shared by friends and people I follow on my social media platforms. Popular questions have been along the lines of whether one is dating, when they will get married, why they are not allowing others to be involved in the planning of their wedding, (the funniest one yet) among others. Then there are the comments that you should definitely marry that girl or get married by that guy (nyakua mjamaa juu kuna shortage). From this, it shows people are quite curious to know what exactly is going on in one’s personal life, with others actually giving you the statement to go ahead and marry them. My main question, is this based on our posts and shares on social media that always portray a smooth, fun life with successes, zero failures, lots of love with bae and all things going perfectly? And no, I am not excluding myself, I am in this bandwagon. For people who probably believe social media to be where their whole world revolves around, this is a dangerous angle of looking at life.

Onto the positive comments, they were defining how strong, hardworking, dedicated or committed the individual is which is great. The ones I would that caught my eye a bit more were the ones that ended with when I grow up, or when I get to a certain level,

………………………………………… …..wait for it …………………………………………………………

“I want to be just like you.”

I have been in this situation as well, until not too long ago. Remember the way you use a certain cooking oil because your mum used to use it. That’s not necessarily a bad thing because mums are always right, right? Munchkin 1 and 2, I already know your answer is yes. I digress. I totally understand how you would appreciate and love how someone you have admired. One who has set a certain standard for you, one who has achieved great milestones, getting themselves to become forces to be reckoned with at work, in entrepreneurship, or through their talents. I just want to challenge us to work towards greatness – Yes, BUT thrive to do things differently, instead of  “I want to be just like you,” dare to follow your own path, be the best version of yourself.  I have at some point in my life wanted to be like someone I truly admire and one who inspires me. And until about a year ago, I wanted to do so many things as they had done them, heck I wanted my career to grow like them, to have my own home at the age that they had theirs, wanted to do my wedding in a similar way. I actually wanted to be just like them (this might have required going round the mugumo tree seven times, If this even works, anyone tried??).  They were role model, they still are! I would never have been exactly like them. I can however, be the best version of myself.

Learn from others, consult, read wisely, network, travel and expose yourself to the many opportunities and experiences that are available. Be inspired by the people who you consider exemplary, successful, those who have such an organized way of doing LIFE so to speak. However, open up your mind to different ways of getting there, heck your limit can be a different type of sky. Have that uniqueness that differentiates you from everyone else. Allow yourself to move from a Copy Paste situation into your own way of getting to the proverbial TOP.

Back to Sarahah, how do you pronounce this?, my perspective on it is that it can be a great tool to honestly give positive feedback or criticism that will help an individual to build a stronger, more effective version of themselves, tackle their weaknesses and embrace a channel towards self-improvement. Would you like to try it from that angle? If yes, feel free to leave a note for SheeGal on

As I am about to leave, the other one that this app has brought out is matters regarding depression.

An example of a message speaking about depression.

A couple of us have gotten it asked or commented about on this platform. This is a very crucial matter that I would like to join hands with friends, who would be free to speak about it,to start a sort of group, a safe space that can help. It has happened to many of us, it can get really dark, but you can also get out of it. Friends willing to partner, hit me up.

Until next time.

The Big Three Oh Actual 

The big three oh or is it dirty 30, was something I was quite anxious about. I had set some things that I thought I would have achieved by the time I got to that age. To be honest, there are some things I haven’t gotten around to doing, but then again, in my three decade learnings, we have our own plans and God has his. So I am praying that His will be done in my life and that He guides me on what is of more importance.

So on my actual birthday, I had bought a dress for it, which I wore and felt pretty sexy about. I put on those heels and promised to stick it out the entire day (I usually wear my heels for a max of 6 hours before I start feeling like my feet have grown an extra ¼ inch in width). I had focused on happiness from within and tried to just take a chill pill on all else. In context, for the last month I have been having serious high and low moments as far as energy and being happy is concerned. Anyway, so as I was driving to work, I got a few phone calls (yeah yeah I was using my earphones) and to be honest, I didn’t mind the attention. For most of those I spoke to, they went through the emphasis of the big three oh. It was interesting to note that for some it was just the beginning of life, it was getting onto the third floor and they spoke of a more analytical, keen, focused kind of stage. For others, it was that huge monster called thatee, it was downhill from there, it demanded one to have gotten to a certain level, and it was when hardships ideally became more consistent. I definitely chose the beginning of life, being positive was what I wanted to focus on.

In the middle of the day, I got to a situation that threatened to make me angry. For those who know me, it takes a very short while to move from calmness to anger. The funniest thing was asking myself, now that I am thirty, what should my reaction be? Age is just a number, more importantly, should I start folding my sleeves? Of course not, the dress did not have sleeves, well… that and the fact that I don’t think I can even through a punch. Yap I said it, I am extremely scared of physical fights. I decided to just calm down and give it thirty minutes (see what I did there) before I reacted, just to ground myself.

Moving on, evening came and as I drove home to pick the Captain, I reminisced a lot about how far he has come and his healing. Of course I chose what he would wear, I love doing that (just so that he doesn’t quickly pull out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, don’t tell him I said that). It was so amazing to know he could actually go out. So of we went to the location for the dinner. It was so humbling to find 6 of my close family members, one of whom included my dad. I have been a daddy’s girl forever, but my dad doesn’t like mushy events. So for him to be there, it was truly 30, so sweet and emotional. And yes my tears were very close.

The highlight of the evening after enjoying the delicious meal and wonderful conversation, was my melted ice cream surprise cake. Thank goodness I did not see it. So the lady who was handed to the cake by Sista Nice, decided not to listen to the clear message of putting it in the freezer. This was after she was told twice. What made it worse was after she delivered the sad news, she went ahead to bring what was left of the cake solo, not with like six of her colleagues to sing happy birthday as they usually do. They had done it to a lady just minutes before. Even she didn’t believe that cake was worth presenting, yet she did anyway. After some exchanges we asked to speak to the manager. This was even worse. The guy came with a fixed mind with the story he had received from his colleague, he also came with one of the staff from the kitchen. This we knew because she had an apron and a protective net on her head. The long and short was he didn’t bother to even ask what our side of the story was. So we gave it to him and asked him to come up with a solution. He came back offering sweet potato pie which we refused. Finally though we got to speak, on phone, to his manager who was kind enough to waiver our bill and offer to deliver a similar cake the following day. All in all, the element of family for me was enough to make my evening grand.

On Friday evening, dress number two was pulled out, bright as the sun and I had a drink up with a couple of my friends and family members. Those who could stand all the loud music and lots of drinks, milk and hot beverages of course. This was the most fun I had had since my early 20s. It was so amazing that I even lost a few hours. Needless to say I got home after the sun had risen. The night went from light conversation, to ice cream cake, to shots, to deep conversations shared, those that would probably never have come out of our systems if both parties had not partaken the milk. I am glad for all who showed up, were represented and contributed to my Jager bomb shots among many other drinks. I really needed to have that one night, with most of the people who I truly love. And let loose, I really did. The best part of it was that people came out from my different circles, it really reassured me. It’s been a bit hard lately.


Delicious cake

On Saturday mid-morning, I felt like my head was 30 kilos, (yap, 30, thatee everywhere) on its own . Three of my friends had promised to take me somewhere out of town and I was still keen to prove that 30 was just a number and energy was what I had most. So off I went to meet up with them. I had a piece of KFC chicken to fight the hangover, the oily part of it really helped. So they whisked me away to Machakos county, Ol Donyo Sabuk Resort to be specific. It was quiet, serene and just a nice way to let all the alcohol get out of the system. We had lunch and just enjoyed the ambience. I might have not been of extremely great company as my old body worked out hangover manenos, but they were fantastic company.

The Macmillan’s castle, on the foot of Mt Kilimambogo was our next stop, just ten minutes away. The locals took us through some history about Macmillan including how he was seven feet tall, how guests would have to clean their feet before entering his castle, and the design of the castle being as a result of the hills in ol donyo sabuk area. We went round the castle and even to the bunkers underneath the house. That was a scary part for me as I thought of all the crazy things I had seen in movies, not to mention the darkness in some areas, and the creaky stairs we used to go down. Each of the three locals who were our tour guides had various versions of the stories that went on underground in the early 90s. That was a funny scene as they tried to out shine each other.  Macmillan’s story was shocking, with such a huge castle, they didn’t have any children. Apparently though, he really valued animals, to the extent his horses and dogs had very big spaces to call home. This opened up my eyes to how I should tour Kenya a little more and enjoy understanding the rich history it has. So grateful for my people for taking me there.


Macmillan Castle

In between the various events though, I got some elements of stuff I want to do and a few things I would like to change. I have scribbled a few down and will work on finishing it off and just having clearer goals. I appreciate the gift of life a whole lot. The people around me have really been strong pillars as I tackled this year, which was quite challenging. I am proud of myself. I didn’t think I had some capabilities and inner strength that I now know exists. I hope I can share that story one day, just to encourage people who has gone through something similar with a loved one.

Based on my three day birthday experience, the big three oh is good for me. I would love to get to 85 like my grandma, who is a June baby as well. I can’t forget my two munchkins who make my life worth living. They are a huge part of why I would want to live longer. Thanks so much to each individual that wished me a happy birthday through whichever medium. I am grateful to God for life, good health, family and friends.

Here is to many many many more.

The princess, Munchkin 2

Finally the day has come to introduce my princess, my munchkin 2, Papa’s lookalike, the one who made me embrace pink. I remember how I found out I was with child. I would like to say it was planned and we totally knew when it happened, but that would not be true. The smell of my colleague’s designer perfume would automatically induce throwing up. And the issue was me, not the perfume. I would not even hold anything down. It was not a surprise though, as I experienced a similar thing with munchkin 1. One of my favorite memories of pregnancy was a friendship that humbled me. I will call her Miss Star. Miss Star would offer to give me her lunch or buy me lunch as long as it meant I would eat. And more importantly,  that it would stay down. In fact she would sometimes ask what I wanted the next day and make it for me. This was a time where the smell of onions was terrible. It was at her cost. And she would almost pick a stick to beat me, to ensure I finished the food. That is how my munchkin got to 2.9kilos. The best craving I had was Java fruits with yogurt.

I remember the first day her dad saw her in my tummy, when he accompanied me for one of the scans. He was extremely quiet. For those who know him, he is so chatty. This brought him to silence. At the point that we knew it was a girl, he at first felt unsure. He finally spoke. And he wanted a boy. I on the other hand was totally excited. I finally saw the hair dates, dress up and girl power. But clearly I had not seen the colors. When it came to shopping, I found it a challenge as I was so used to buying boy stuff. In addition, pink just wasn’t working for me, to the point that my friends got me a purple cake for my baby shower.

Purple is the color of royalty

Too cute. I digress. So back to shopping, two of my friends ensured I stayed away from blue and brown. As I continued to shop, the excitement grew and the reality of a girl finally settled in my mind. And I liked it, scratch that I loved it.

Fast forward to delivery day, I was induced and felt encouraged that the second born would come out faster. Being the princess she is, she changed her position last minute and put her hand in front of her face. Don’t ask. It had to be an emergency C section. That was hard for me to reconcile with at first. I thank God it worked out because she had her cord wrapped around her neck thrice. Her father saw her first and I remember that’s where she got the nickname Papa’s look alike. And even though it’s hard to tell who the baby looks like on the first day, she did grow to be exactly that. I am so grateful for the Mister. He really helped with so much as the wound that felt like my upper body was completely disconnected from my lower body, healed. The sweetest thing was how he would come home to help bath her. And he would hold her close to the mirror, with their faces next to each other, and say for the umpteenth time, how alike they looked. He actually enjoyed doing it, other than pouring out the water from her basin afterwards, lol.

The little princess had colic. She would cry and curl herself. This would sometimes drive me insane. I remember thinking I was getting depressed as I found myself feeling like I was going to put her down and walk away. This was after trying everything and she still would not stop crying. I would give her Bonnisan like it was juice. Thank fully great help from the nanny and the mister got us past it. Truly nothing ever lasts forever. Every day it went fading off until one day we realized she does not cry as much anymore.

Today, I stare at a beautiful ten month old young girl, who loves herself like her dad, mum and brother combined. How dramatic she acts when she falls back on the seat from sitting to sleeping position. And especially considering it is not at all painful. I am proud as she is now getting independent. Now other people can carry her and she will not wail. She works well with out of sight, can watch cartoons, pinch her brother, laughs from deep within and has such beautiful eyes (those must be like her mum’s). She feeds really well but I have no idea where the weight goes to. One tooth is slowly popping out, but her toothless smile was so heartwarming. I will miss it. Her first word, wait for it, Baba. Did I say she eats her tongue like her mum?

Ok. There we have it. Munchkin 2, the princess.

My princess

The Big Three Oh

Are there days when you feel like you are done with everything? I usually feel like I would like to teleport to South Coast, lie on the beach, sip on a screw driver without a care in the world. The reality looks like this, my munchkin number two would have to reduce her major attachment to mummy, with reason as she is ten months. My munchkin number one would require an explanation, with his recently learnt alphabets and numbers craze. My main man would wonder how I would have a holiday without him, especially during this season of his life. Not to mention the flight and accommodation bookings or the normal VIP Modern Coast seat. All this and I haven’t even thought of having my leave approved, shhhh don’t let my boss know this. I am probably looking at some time in 2018, with all these logistics. I haven’t even thought of summer clothes.

This is the year I join the third floor officially. Had you asked me how I felt about it last year, I would have probably said I will breeze through it. It’s just 30 after all. But what I have learnt through the on-going season of my life since October last year, is that life can change drastically. We have all the ambitions, plans and wonderful things to look forward to. So much so that we can sometimes want to rush the current to get to the future. Not to mean that I am not looking forward to that huge party I want it(Family and friends reading this, I love surprises). I am looking forward to it, but my perspective on it is different.

The Big Three Oh

I want it to be with my two munchkins, just staring at them and realizing that second floor blessed me with them, a mind blowing amazing feeling, a huge adjustment that made me patient, responsible, warmer, authoritative. I am now able to understand the true meaning of love and hard work.

I want it to be with my family that has been so constant in my life. Words can’t describe how blessed I am. I pray every day that God gives them long life in this land of the living, for me to share even greater moments with them. I try to express my love as often as I can, my respect and appreciation.

I want it to be with my friends, the ones who have remained through the tides, the new ones I have acquired, the ones who have called, texted, looked for me and been patient enough to let me talk about what is going on when I am ready. The ones that have come and sat with me in silence. The ones who have brought food to hospital and sat there to ensure I ate. The ones who have paid a counsellor and allowed me the opportunity to off load my fears and anxieties to an amazing professional. Actually they started by convincing me that I needed it. The ones who allowed me back to work without asking questions, until I was ready to talk. The ones who prayed for me from a far because they didn’t know how to handle the situation. And many others scenarios I may not mention, I am extremely grateful.

I want it to be with my main man. The wonderful guy that God gave me. The one whose rib I am part of. Now that young man has gone through something completely life changing. He is still going through the recovery, with great progress I might add. Being there to seeing him going through it has been really tough but I have soldiered on by God’s grace. I am so proud of him for fighting for his life. I am happy to be the one chosen to be with him in this season. As much as I have never been a girl with extreme excitement for the white dress, aisles and flowers, this man and this season has made me open up to the idea someday. Just maybe, I might embrace this idea. Especially because it allows me to stand in front of God and man and commit to sharing the good and bad with my main man. To share the moment with all these beautiful day with the amazing people who saw us through this. I want to look at him fully back to his feet, in total good health and dance together. Oh dear, do you see how when a girl starts talking about it, it takes over? I digress.

I want it to be with my main man fully healed and recovered. That Dear God is my prayer.

I want it to be with God by my side as He has been even in the darkest, loneliest of moments. The great moments as well, given the greatest miracle of our lives and continues to direct our path.

I want cake, good food, laughter, peace, joy, good health and life in abundance.

And finally, I want to actually make it to the beach, but this time on a positive note and hopefully with the people I love the most. And it will come to pass. God’s timing is the best. I look forward.

I guess this means I am back to writing, I had missed it!