While I was away

20170222_081903Been two years since I posted.

Two Freaking YEARS

TWO YEARS

Trump is the President of the United States

I did not see that happening.

Moved to Qatar

Working 6 days a week….Yeah i know. 6 days!!!!

Still on baby one. or should i say toddler/ mama lips puller one

Still on hubby one too…In this era, that’s important to mention

Gained 25 kg. I know . I suck.

Turned 31. No more video games . sigh. Old age

My sister became a mummy.

Became an Instagram Addict.

All in all. I am living a good life

Trump is the President of the United States

There once was a blogger named Hera

There once was a blogger named Hera.

She started with so much fire.

She has so much to share with the world

Then Life interfered. She carried belle.

And the fire simmered. Ideas came and went, never to be typed, lost in the sands of time.

She hung in there………barely, making promises after promises and never fulfilling.

 Then she gave birth to her precious little Beebee.

She felt energized and up to the challenge,

She worked out a schedule to be a wife, mother, homemaker and blogger…basically Superwoman.

However babies don’t work with schedule

She failed in the last task

Her blog clocked one year and she didn’t even post.

Her free time was either spent sleeping or sleeping. (no typo)

Weeks went by without a post

Stories left hanging

The fire has almost been put out on the blog known as Hera Pereira……………….

But Wait!

What is this?

The fire is being rekindled

Slowly but surely, she is blogging again

Precious sleep time going away

But she doesn’t care

This is her first baby

Her Passion

Sure, it will always take second stage to family

But at least it will have a stage.

There IS a blogger named Hera

And she is back with a vengeance

Open Letter to Aida Zoe

So my little BeeBee is 2 weeks and 4 days now (Feels way longer) It has been an interesting learning experience. Good news! I am 10kg down already. Hurray (No, I am not exercising or dieting or deliberately trying to lose weight yet. I am vain but I am not that vain). I am eating well so the baby eats well. So imagine when I start putting in some real efforts. (I have 7kg of pre pregnancy weight and 10 kg of pre Bahrain weight to lose in 2014). I gat time.

I am really so blessed. Sure, this has been a very frustrating period and I have thought of ingenious ways of killing my husband, hiding the body in the desert somewhere and collecting his life insurance (If he has one). Let’s just blame hormones. But my little one is perfect. She is so active and loves to play with her hands. She hates being swaddled and has the most adorable sleeping position. She doesn’t cry at all. She fusses when she wants to be changed or fed and just stay calm afterwards. She takes her baths, injections and massages without a whimper. My mum says I was like that (I doubt it). Everyone says she looks like me now. I can’t really tell, but if she does, I must be STUNNING.

Musing done. I came across this amazing poem on the blog of a good friend of mine. It really got to me. It is something I and I am sure billions of women around the world can relate to. You can check out her blog “Through my eyes” at http://ilsa-aida.blogspot.com The poem was aptly titled “I am waiting for you” but since it is the season for open letters in Nigeria, I am going to title it here “Open letter to Aida Zoe’. Enjoy. Hold a hankie. Continue reading

Confessions of an Orobo(Plus Size) Chick

I was sent this hilarious video by OmogeKofo. It was so funny that it inspired me to do this prayer.

Confessions of an Orobo(Plus Size) Chick

Forgive me Lord because I have sinned………..again
I Know by now you go don tire for my matter
But Lord, what can I do?
Temptations Temptations all around

Lord, you know that I tried
The Velvet Cake sat there in the fridge for HOURS
Lord, you know how much I resisted it
Going for Rabbit Food while Ignoring it
Ignoring the wonderful aroma
Lord, you know that I tried

Continue reading

All Fish/Fishes Go to Heaven- An Ode to Hassan and Hussein

Happy New Month People. Sorry, it has been a while since I posted. The hard life of sitting at home in front of a computer finally wore me down, but I am feeling relatively much better now.

Over the weekend, I grilled some whole fish…fishes for my husband and his drinking buddies, but they did not meet. So, with much ‘reluctance’, I decided to eat it.
Aisha o(boss lady_=)) Hera Pereiraعائشة

Yeah, when I took this picture, I noticed how angry the fish looked. Now, I am no vegetarian, so I felt no guilt eating fish, but it reminded me of my dark past. It reminded me of Hassan and Hussein.

Hassan and Hussein were the names I gave to my husband’s gold fish….fishes(Not sure which is correct. I think both are, but for fun, I am going to use both) When I first joined him in Bahrain, I was introduced to them. Now, I have never had a pet in my life, so this was new and exciting. Plus the fact that you didn’t have to clean after them excited me…..so I thought. We had a deal that he would keep their bowl clean. All I had to do is feed them everyday.

Trust Men. After I arrived, he never cleaned the bowl once. I was very amazed at how dirty fish were. Every week, I had to carry their ridiculously heavy fish bowl to the kitchen, transfer them to a small container and wash every single darn pepple. I hated that. My husband called it excellent training for future kids, which is ridiculous. At least, with kids, you get some affection back which makes the whole experience worth it. Even dogs and cats shows some affection. Fish just stares.

fish staring

Continue reading

No One Stole Your Man…….Except He was Jazzed…

I came across this on a Facebook Friend’s status. Kayode Ogunnusi. I decided to have a little fun with it. Now the first part of the title may be true for the rest of the world, but in some parts of Africa and Nigeria in particular, we have what is known as ‘juju’. You can call it voodoo, witchcraft, or as my generation likes to call it – Jazz. Some people don’t believe in Jazz at all. Other believe and practice Jazz. I am sometimes torn because of my religion and western education, but I sort of believe in it too. A woman can literally steal your man’s heart and make him hate you through some well placed jazz. Yeah, I can feel your scepticism, but I have heard many gist about it. So there might be an element of truth. Who knows?

This is Kayode’s piece remixed by me. Words in Italics are mine

No One Stole Your Man………. Except he was Jazzed

babalawo_med

Accept that he got weak in the face of
another woman and made an irresponsible
decision to touch a body that wasn’t
his to touch. (Or she used some white powder
jazz and scattered his dada–head)

Continue reading

Poetry- No One Sees Nigeria

So I am currently suffering from Writer’s block (or is it blogger’s block). I could not formulate a single coherent line all week. Then, a friend asked me to address the current crisis in my home country Nigeria. I declined for two reasons. There are probably 5,000 blogs on that issue right now and I don’t do politics. More importantly, I could not think of any positive or comedic spin I can do to the story. So I am going to do a poem of sorts(Indulge me. I really don’t have skills for poetry)

There is a lot of despair and anarchy in you right now
A lot of people have given up on you
A lot of people are trying to destroy you
But you will not die
You would keep taking the punches and rising

Continue reading

Daily Prompt. Having Hope

The daily post presently has a challenge titled Unleash your inner dickinson. I usually don’t do poems but this is an issue close to my heart and a lot of women out there . So here it goes

Only one line appears on the stick
Her heart sinks but she has hope
The red-letter days has failed to appear
So it must be a false negative
She has hope

The red letter days have come and gone
Her heart sinks further but she has hope
It has only been five years
Feels like ten
But God’s time must be the best
She has hope

She sits alone in the corner of the room at the party
All the women straddling their babies and mingling
She feels all eyes on her
She is after all an African woman
But she doesn’t lose hope

She takes a lot of drugs
She googles new ideas everyday
She is registered to 100 sites
She is always looking for the next miracle solution
She still has hope

They are fighting again
She accuses him of cheating
He says she has grown obsessed.
It is a long cold night
She has almost lost all hope

She is late again
This time, she spots a faint line on the stick
She is afraid to hope
Could it be?
The doctor confirms it.

It has been a very rough nine months
A very difficult pregnancy it had been
There is a breach, A cesarean is needed
But at the end of the day, she cradles her baby girl
Little Miss Hope Adebayo lets out her first cry

African American mother and newborn baby