The most delicious cup of Coffee

I sit here savoring each sip, enjoying the steaming rich aroma of one of my favorite scents: coffee! My tongue savors the most delicious, hot, silky, creamy, sweet liquid and passes it on for my yearning throat to swallow.

A crow announces its flight through the trees in our garden with its Ca-caw, ca-caw. Two little birdies chase each other around the mustard yellow and green leafy branches of the umbrella tree nearby , twittering sweetly.

The gauzy curtain of the windows flutters and gently sways as cool breeze flows into our dining room. Gentle and consistent hammering from the nearby factory provides the background music, while Chinese rhymes are playing from the tablet beside me.

My daughter sits attentively in her high chair, allowing me some moments to savour my first cup of coffee in forever. I have never tasted anything more delicious! No fancy coffeehouse, coffee art or cafe with beautiful decor can rival my current experience.

Calm contentedness fills every fibre of my being. It has been half a year since I entered my third decade and the self transformation continues. Not transformation so much as self realization. I had been in hibernation mode for so many years, cruising through life on Auto-Pilot. Allowing life to happen and pushing me along.

Curling my fingers around my warm pink ceramic mug, my mind wanders. My body’s hormonal system once again adjusting to cutting back milk supply due to our baby’s weaning. Hence the end of my coffee sabbatical. Woohoo!

A large chunk of my readers are wondering: what is all the fuss about? Coffee is your daily ritual, Starbucks within easy reach. But living here in Nigeria, coffee is a luxurious treat.

The past couple of weeks has been a bit of emotional adjustment for both mother and daughter. Lack of sleep, as daddy had to take over her nightly waking and hold her as she cried for her two-three times a night breast-milk snack. I used to think I have a high level of pain-tolerance but i questioned that when dealing with breast engorgement, headaches and body aches such as I never imagined possible.

Weaning was a bittersweet transition because on the one hand, I missed the oxytocin-facilitated bonding with our daughter in breastfeeding sessions: the overwhelming feelings of love, happiness boost and closeness to our daughter.

I can’t imagine how difficult it was for baby girl to be cut off from suckling from mummy as she had done from the first day she was introduced to the world. Baby girl also had to learn how to adjust to a main source of comfort by finding comfort in mama through other means: cuddles, neck guzzling and so forth.

On the up-side: weaning marks a sort of transition from a newbie mum, a nursing mum to a “toddler mum”? I feel like I have graduated to next phase of parenting. The freedom of not nursing anymore is thrilling! Any other stay home mamas know what on Earth I am talking about? πŸ˜€

I put so many things on hold so I could give everything I could to personally oversee her care. So am definitely looking forward to easing back into other interests and business pursuits. So Exciting!

Hope you enjoyed all the musings the most delicious cup of coffee brought me!

Learning Boundaries

No more banging on doors, begging you to let me in

And try and try with all my might

How your heart am I supposed to win?

How can I expect others to respect me

When respect to myself I first must show?

.

From the first day, I was on my knees

All my pleas, your anger can never cease

The tears drip till the heart bleeds dry

Beg and beg, you are deaf to all cry.

.

I dance and fail to move to your tune,

With all my energy, I will my feet to move

To all my sweet charm, you are immune,

My self worth to you I shall never prove.

.

Enough with all my defensiveness,

No more proving my fabulousness,

Time to learn who God made me to be

Pleasing Him is my utmost priority

.

Take ownership, assume responsibility,

Their anger isn’t your fault, you see?

No more saying yes without thinking for myself

Learning to say no without fear of anger consequence

.

I am brave, I am strong

I admit I am wrong,

I can learn, I can grow

I can love you healthily

…..

Love as fragile as a Rose

Love as fragile as a Rose;
It’s beauty fully appreciated
When received as a single flower,
Or in a gorgeously adorned bouquet

You smell its fragrance
Only because you long to
As you inch closer to sniff,
Hands steering clear of its protective thorns

It is most appealing and vibrant
When freshly plucked, it shines
With rich, radiant rosiness,
Or its pure, graceful pearly white.

As time passes, alone it darkens.
The petals you see blacken
Slowly withers away, beauty fades.
But peel the outer layers away, reveals the beauty within

If you treasure the rose, love it.
To keep the love alive, nurture it.
Prune the rose, cut the stem diagonally.
Plant it within nutrient-enriched soil,

to see it thrive and flourish.

Though the thorns may bleed you
If you hastily approach, no caution.
But if you tenderly strip away the defenses of thorns,
Take the time to get closer and discover what lies beneath,
What joys, pleasures, sensations new experience brings
And you will forget the initial pricks and thorns,
As you enjoy a rose garden full of love.

Written by the much younger Mrs Dew πŸ™‚

Slow down little mama


“Pit pat pit pat pit pat” goes the sound of tiny feet slapping against marble tiles, as she accelerates her way, doing laps around our living room. As a sprinter arches her neck forward as she approaches the finish line, so does our daughter, as she stands up and propels herself forward at top speed.
Her fists are clenched adorably by her side, an invisible steering wheel clenched between her fists to steer her body around the sofas and side tables that form her race track.
She spots my basket of laundry in one corner, zooms in on it with laser precision, and precedes to pluck each piece of offending clothing to the left, right, or behind, as her whim dictates.
I drop any and all efforts of scheduling social media posts for a client, rushing over to pick up pieces of clothing decorating part of our floor, while our little gymnast has moved onto her next mission: tugging at the wires of a charging station we had set up in the middle cubicle of our bookshelf which she is now tall enough to reach.

When she is bored, she climbs our mini two-step stairs, venturing explore the dining area. In the split second I turn my back to pick up her toys, she has scaled her way up the side table where I have propped her tablet (for playing her nursery rhymes) to change the configurations herself.

Her little fingers have developed a lightning speed of their own. They have swiped down beloved coffee mugs, plunked my tiny phone into a warm cup of tea I was enjoying moments before she woke up that morning, and are a powerful magnet for any piece of paper left lying around or on top of surfaces previously too tall for her reach. Slow down little mama!
She keeps us on our tip toes, but no matter how vigilant our efforts in clearing table surfaces, she always manages to find something to explore with her hands, feet and mouth.

It wasn’t so long ago that I couldn’t wait for baby girl to sit on her own so I don’t need to prop pillows around her. At that time, sitting was her first step to her developing confidence in her balance and start figuring out how to crawl. This was after she turned six months.
The moment she mastered sitting, next thing was crawling and simultaneously holding on to anything taller than her sitting position so she could pull up to a standing position. I could see her delight as she could view her world around from a taller vantage point. She would stand for ages at a time, clinging onto the edge of her playpen. It went a long way to strengthen her leg muscles as she started cruising in laps around her playpen.

I knew back then she would be faster than average in walking. However, she developed a great caution outside the soft padded world of her play pen. She crawled everywhere with such speed and rhythm. I could monitor her movements from the sound of knees and hand smacking against the tiles. It wasn’t till 3 months later, she started trying to stand unaided and taking her first steps between the center table and sofa. Then came the wonderful experience of cheer leading our little one along her lessons in balance and walking.

If I thought my life as a mum busy then, boy what was I even complaining about? *smile* Sometimes I wonder, is it our princess whom I want to slow down or time itself? How I wish I can capture these cute adorable fast paced moments in a time capsule I can come visit and re-live the experience any time I want. Or have a remote I can rewind to precious moments like the Adam Sandler’s movie “Click”…

Any one in my shoes right now? Or do you remember those good old days when the grown up beside you was a wee toddler exploring his/her world with such enthusiastic glee? Let me know in comment section below!

Wedding Anniversary: 2 years celebration

Twas two years ago to this day
That I walked down the aisle & vowed
To stick with you, come what may…
Walking on a cloud by your side,
Was the beginning of our journey,
As we began to build our home in stride.

Look at us two years into our journey,
God has blessed us in so many ways
A family of two now turned three,
I pray God’s love with us stays
His wisdom and knowledge to be our guide
And Holy Spirit, the teacher by our side.

Happy Anniversary my darling heart

When we allow our Health Challenges to Define us

Since I was diagnosed with Chronic Myelogenous #Leukemia #CML when I was 17 years old, over a decade ago, I remember my life seemed to revolve around hospital appointments, blood tests, scans, bone marrow aspirations. I had to consciously plan my day so that I have at least one full meal and ensure a bottle of water and chemotherapy (#gleevec) tablets are packed in my bag.

Where before I was an over-achieving student, my body now slowed me down. You know those all nighters spent cramming for an exam, or writing that paper, or preparing a presentation? From then on, I would be plagued by constant fatigue, flu/cough and struggling with chemo side effects like vomiting and diarrhea.

To everyone else, I maintained my bubbly, cheerful, friendly, energetic persona but now I was coming late to class, begging lecturers for extensions on deadlines and so forth. And my once forbearing and diplomatic persona was not so lenient anymore.

I wasn’t the typical #cancer patient. I wasn’t deathly pale (though I was far lighter skinned compared to before my diagnosis and chemo treatment) and sported a full head of raven black hair. Plus I didn’t have to go to the hospital for chemo treatments when mine was concealed conveniently in my bag to take “on-the-go”. I looked just like every other student. I remember one lecturer going so far as to say I was using my illness as an excuse. Hmm. I will chalk that one up to ignorance. Then came another mid-semester drop out. Each time it got harder and harder to return back to my studies.

I am sure you can relate to how such physical and health limitations begin to define us in such a permanent way. We don’t even realize when it becomes a part of who we are. I had gotten admitted to medical school just after I was hospitalized the first time I was diagnosed. I got to defer admission to medical school, but after my health took a hit my first year there, my doctor didn’t allow me to resume.

I relocated closer to my parents and would still pursue my dreams of being an emergency/disaster response doctor for several years to come in one pre-med course after another. Each time, I would transfer over to what I thought was a less intensive course.

I had to look for another degree to graduate with. It took me 9 years from when I graduated high school to obtain my college (university) degree. I had to leave behind my career dream a long time ago. I graduated with a management degree in Human Resource Management

Now, even in #remission, I’m afraid to push myself so I don’t break down. I can’t seem to find something to be passionate about, due to this deep-seated fear that it will not work out. I keep expecting one bad break after another and when good things happen, I am beyond grateful.

One thing I am free from however is living life as a if I am a ticking time bomb. This “tip-toe” kind of living when one believes they are living on borrowed time. When I got diagnosed, I was acutely aware that my cousin suffered from #leukemia for several years before dying at age 18. For so long I went through life one day at a time. I couldn’t even picture myself graduating, not to talk of getting married.

When I finally graduated university, after several interruptions and relocations, it was a huge breakthrough and victory God gave me as this wonderful man blindsided me with a ring on my finger. I didn’t even know where to begin wedding planning because I never spent a moment browsing social media for my dream wedding gown or wedding gown receptions. Time to take a leap of faith.

I have had amazing breakthroughs (miracle conception, pregnancy & journey into motherhood) since getting married and mentally am working through and moving beyond all that now. But I wanted to write down and attempt to capture how totally hopeless life can seem, or how one’s diagnosis can colour everything about one’s life if they choose not to actively take charge of their diagnosis and more importantly their emotional and mental state of mind.

Instead of letting our health challenges define us, or be the boss of us, why don’t we take charge? Arm ourselves with information, seek help, get proactive in selecting a team to help you overcome. It is said what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger. But even if it purportedly will kill you, will it hurt to go down with a fight and a champion’s smile on your face? Better yet, why not be determined to beat the odds and be part of the 0.01% that do survive?! Never underestimate the potent value of just a little Faith

Are you struggling with any issue, not something as ominous as cancer but issues like asthma, body image issues, eating disorders, a bad wrist/back, anything that serves as a limitation? Are you so nervous to talk with people that it is really affecting your mannerisms and happiness? Even if you have technically or physically gotten over an illness, are there still lingering issues affecting other areas of your life? Please I would love to hear your own story and where you are at the moment in your journey.

P.s. about The coffee pictures in this post … πŸ˜€ Maybe I just want you to remember that cup of coffee you left sitting on your table and come sit and read my thoughts. Come have a little chat with me

Rainy Season: A typical day

Dear Diary,

It is day 2 posting on WordPress since I opened this account. After 2 months of scouring the data bases of Google & YouTube, shadowing various bloggers & YouTube channels, desperately searching for any and all knowledge about how an average blog & YouTube channel operate, I finally summoned the courage to start the Dew Diary.

Been an avid Diary Keeper for most part of my latter teen years, I have to bashfully admit I only clocked in entries to record momentous life events, or attempt to empty out my deepest anguish, pains, regrets, on paper. There are times even the closest confidante can never understand what you are going through and seem to get peaked when their bubbly optimistic, always-smiling friend shows them their human, bitter side. So, as a service to humanity, one must attempt to bottle the more cynical feelings of disappointment / reality checks into words and transfer them via ink unto pages seen only by a future me.

Aha!!! This post meandered it’s way into the more melancholy side of yours truly, who sits here with pad in hand, cross legged on a yellow furred sofa, as rain drops fall steadily all around my cocoon. My market produce lay forgotten in bowls on the floor and side tables, my previously energetic intentions of storing away and cooking pounded into nothingness with each roar of thunder.

A sneak peak from the safety of my slightly ajar door shows this view:

A mere 4 hours prior, the warm golden sun rays shone through darkening grey edged fluffy clouds in the silver sky backdrop. I had just gotten breakfast and a packed lunch for my husband and seen him off as he left towards later half of the morning. Checked my wordpress for my first ever friend, who inspired & encouraged me to analyse the effects of the tropical climate on my mood and creativity.

Suddenly, been more aware of my surroundings, a lightbulb, a Eureka like experience, turned on in my soul, said good riddance to the meek onyinbo (white) insecure iyawo (wife in Yoruba, one of 3 main languages in Nigeria). I noticed my heightened, more bubbly energy this morning was further fueled by the golden interior light of our marital home, a peek outside the windows revealed brilliant sun rays shining down from a rain laden, grey-fluffy clouded sky.

Palm tree

Our touch of tropical paradise

My years of experience here a hurried reminder that the weather could turn on me any moment, my lack of fresh farm produce prompted me to start packing for a quick dash to the nearest market locale. An umbrella…check; recyclable shopping bags…check, a water bottle for my trek to the main road…check; money and house keys….check check! My fledgling blogger instincts had me dashing back to the house for my tablet…the only portable camera source I have. All my research, tips & hacks on starting a blog on a budget (make best use of what you have!) came flooding back to me!

For first time since I got married a few months ago, I did not want to hide my “white ” skin wrapped around my head and shoulders like a shawl, makeshift hijab. I didn’t want to draw any more undue attention to people from afar as I made my way through the dirt roads of this more rural part of town to the main road (mini express road leading to the next town in one direction and to the city center in the other direction). So I would endure stuffy heat, just for the covered protection and my mind would take comfort that I could sneak through the neighbourhood and market undetected until people caught a closer glimpse of my face.

I made my way carefully through the dirt roads, rain and mini streams eroded the paths further that it was uneven and any wrong step I may slip or lose my footing.
Now that I wasn’t rushing through the neighbourhood, with my head down, flying as fast as my feet could carry me, I admired the tropical foliage, make shift farms (of maize, Coco yam, different leafy greens) on undeveloped plots of land & the neighbour’s mini gardens surrounding their fences.

I will continue my adventures at the market in another post…stay tuned