I’m known for being a lot of things, but I don’t think being a bitch is one of them. Or at least I hope not. I try to be kind to everyone and considerate of their feelings. However, just because I’m not a bitch by nature, that doesn’t mean I don’t have bitchy days. And trust me I have had very bitchy days. Especially the day and I got proposed to.

My family takes celebrating holidays very seriously. My mother, my sisters and I have divided up the holidays so that each one of us has a holiday to host at their home. My mom takes Christmas, my older sister Bonnie takes Thanksgiving, and Zari really doesn’t give a shit about hosting, so she just contributes a dish to everyone’s respective holiday.

My holiday, has always been Easter. I love spring. I love brunch.  And I love me some Jesus. So it’s only right that I claim Easter as my holiday.

Every year, I host a very elaborate brunch for Easter. I’m talkin’ hams (yes multiple), quiche, French Toast casserole, home fries, pasta salad, donuts, croissants, mimosas – the whole enchilada. Per tradition, once brunch is over, we have an Easter egg hunt for all of the kids. It’s a pretty awesome shindig if I do say so myself.

Easter 2018

When Dayo (my then boyfriend/now husband) and I moved into our first home together, we had been together for three years. This was a big deal for us and our relationship, ESPECIALLY since we weren’t married. I had spent the previous 8 months dropping hella hints about my desire to move in together and get married. It took some work, but after extensively complaining to Dayo that I know longer wanted to live in separate homes, he caved and succumbed to my request. 

Side note: I do not condone pressuring a man to do what you want. It can often times backfire on you and take a turn for the worst. However, sometimes you gotta make demands, if you want to move things along. And I’m a woman that prides myself on “getting’ shit done”…so there’s that.

This particular Easter was very exciting for me because it would be my first Easter that I was hosting in my own home. Normally I would host at my mom’s. So I went all out. Everything was perfect. I had the perfect menu, the perfect decorations and the perfect set up. I had even purchased this beautifully perfect, ceramic, green pig that I stuck on the counter. It brought my kitchen to life!  But even with all this perfection, there was one thing that really had my panties in a bunch. There was no ring on my finger.

I know I should have left it for another time, but I was just so irritated and couldn’t get the thought out of my mind.

The day before Easter I was very angrily making the ham. Dayo could tell something was wrong with me, so he tried to avoid me all day. Finally, when he got up the balls to actually come and ask me what was wrong, I told him to take a look at my ring finger. He tried to laugh it off, but this was no laughing matter.

I started a full-blown argument with this man because, for the life of me, I could not understand why we were not engaged yet. I mean I am pretty hot shit so wtf was he waiting for?!? Remember when I said pressuring a man can end poorly? Well for me, it did… kinda.

Dayo was furious. I had never seen him this mad. He said that I was stubborn, selfish, and a brat. This, of course, pissed me off even more and sent me off into a screaming frenzy. It was probably the worst bitch fit I’ve ever had. I did not care. I wanted my fucking ring.

Side note: I know you are probably thinking I am the worst person in the world right now. And in hindsight, I WAS doing the most. However at that time, I really couldn’t not wrap my mind around what the holdup could be.

I was screaming like a mad woman, which led to Dayo walking out of the house and storming down the street. He walked around the neighborhood for about two hours. In the mist of all this, my older sister Bonnie calls me.

Me: OMG Bonnie! You will not belie-

Bonnie: You’re a fucking idiot. *click*

Me: *hears dial tone* Hello?

What the fuck was that about? Had she spoken to Dayo? If so, how could she say that I was an idiot when Dayo was the one taking his sweet time to propose to this bad bitch? What the hell was going on?

After finally taking a breather and evaluating the situation, I realized I went a little too hard on Dayo. I was still irritated as shit but I probably could’ve 1. Handled the situation better and 2. Chosen another day to address my issue. At this point, he wasn’t talking to me so I just finished the rest of my Easter prep.

The next morning, I got up early to finish all of the last minute details. By the time I woke up, Dayo had already left the house. In my mind, he had left me and fled the country, but I couldn’t focus on that because people would be arriving in a couple of hours. Everything was cooking perfectly and I was most excited to show off my ceramic kitchen pig (my whole family hates this pig btw). As I’m pulling the final quiche out of the oven, I hear the front door unlock. Dayo was home!

Initially I wanted to hit him with a “where the fuck you been?” and a neck roll, but I decided to play it cool and continue setting up the brunch. He walked in to the kitchen, plopped an orchid on the table and kissed me on the forehead. “I don’t want to fight today, so this is a peace offering” he said.

An orchid is your peace offering? An orchid? HOW ABOUT A MOTHER FUCKING RING! I didn’t say that, but I sure did want to. However, since it was the Lord’s day and all, I hugged him and thanked him. Even though deep down I wanted to throw the orchid at the back of his head when he walked away.

The brunch was set to start at 2:00 pm, but by 1:45pm we already had about 25 people in the house. We were expecting 40, which is the norm with our immediate Mexican/Nigerian family. However by 3:00 pm there were 75 damn people in my house. Every unexpected guest that walked in sent me into full panic mode.  I’m going to run out of food! We don’t have enough seating! There’s not enough booze! I kept glancing at Dayo with anxiety ridden stares to which he quickly looked away.

The entire brunch Dayo avoided me and stood in the corner with his friends getting drunk.  He’s not a big time drinker at all, but this day, he was throwing back the shots. What was even more bizarre was how attentive my mom and sisters were being towards me. They kept fixing my hair and making sure my makeup was perfect. Through all this weirdness, I still had to hide the eggs for the  Easter Egg Hunt. We hid the eggs, announced to the kids that the Easter bunny had just arrived and the hunt commenced.

Normally, all the parents would be outside with their kids, taking pictures and helping them find the treats. But this time, halfway through the hunt, the parents started trickling inside, leaving their children outside to fend for themselves.

What in the whole fuck was going on here?

The hunt was over and I was outside, by myself, picking up candy wrappers and plastic eggshells. I have to admit I was pretty ticked off that everyone had left me outside to babysit and then do damage control. I walked in the house and the living room is empty. I could see everyone hovering around in the kitchen, looking at me out the corner of their eyes. It was almost a guilty look they had. First thought that came to my mind was “someone broke my damn pig”.

I ran in the kitchen, breathing heavily because I was terrified to see what had become of my precious porker. I pushed through the group of guests, all the while extending my neck to look above the crowd and into the corner that I had nestled my ceramic swine. I finally get passed everyone, still looking directly at my pig, only to realize he was still there and still fully intact. What was going on?

Just then, I notice Dayo walking up to me with a shiny, golden egg in his hand. It was covered in so much glitter that his had looked like a disco ball. By now, the pieces started coming together but I was still a bit confused. Everyone got quiet and pulled out their cameras and phones.

Oh shit. This is it. He’s about to propose. Thank God my pig is ok, but yes! He is about to propose. OMG! That’s why Bonnie said I was an idiot. Oh my gosh. I was such a bitch yesterday. Damn, Katryce!  

All of these thoughts rushed through my head in a matter of seconds. Dayo looked me in the eyes and dropped to one knee. Now most women, at this point, would start crying and wait to hear their man profess their love to them. But at this point in time all I could do was replay over and over how terrible I had been to Dayo the day before. So instead of hearing him out, I grabbed the egg, jumped on him and said yes. I had been so awful to him that I knew I had to move quick before he changed his mind. I didn’t even allow the poor guy a chance to actually ask me to  marry him.

So I’m crying, he’s drunk and my precious pig is fine. All was right with the world. In all this chaos, I had forgotten about the ring! I never even opened the egg to see what was inside! I jumped up, wiped my eyes and opened the egg to find the perfect ring. It was everything I wanted. I guess all of my hard work of leaving magazines and web pages open to rings I admired were perfect clues for Dayo.  He did a great job.

Don’t you DARE judge my hairy knuckles!

Looking back on my proposal, I wish I would’ve handled myself better. My level of bitchy was at an all-time high and I should’ve had faith that my man was in it for the long haul.

But on a petty note- I still secured the bag so…  

Easter has always been my favorite holiday, but thanks to Dayo it is even more special to me now! Any exciting Easter stories out there? Spill the tea!

The post The Day I Got Engaged- A Ceramic Pig, A B!tch Fit And A Golden Egg appeared first on The Funny Momma.

I’ve been afraid to travel overseas my entire life. Prior to the experience that I’m about to share, the farthest I had ever traveled was Canada (on a high school trip) and a family trip to Tijuana, Mexico which is basically just an extension of California. You see, I’ve watched a lot of “Locked Up Abroad” in my day and who can forget that Sex and The City movie where Samantha got arrested in Dubai for exposing her shoulders! I had absolutely no desire to travel outside of the country because I was almost positive that I was going to be arrested if I did. I have a hard enough time following the rules in this country. How could I be expected to go somewhere else and follow theirs? No, thank you.

Ever since the first year we started dating, Dayo (my then boyfriend, now husband) tried to convince me to travel with him to Nigeria. Every time, I politely declined. Although I wanted to meet his family, my fear of traveling overseas held me back. After inviting me a third time, Dayo had enough. His cousin was getting married in Nigeria AND South Africa. He insisted that I go with him and wasn’t backing off. Finally, I caved, put my big girl panties on and agreed to go.

Dayo’s dad was ESTATIC and ready to dunk me head first in Nigerian traditions. In Nigeria, for most events (especially weddings), specific fabrics are assigned to specific guests. That way, when you attend the event, you will know who is who i.e. parents of the couple, immediate family, extended family, general guests and more.  Since I was new to the Nigerian fashion game, when I was given my fabric, I found some random dress-maker to complete my ensemble and she botched the whole thing. My dress had pointy tits and boxy hips. Basically, I looked like Cruela on top and Sponge Bob on the bottom.

It was a shit show and I had no time to get it fixed.

Two days before I went to Nigeria, I did an entire video will just in case things went south on my trip and I was indeed kidnapped or arrested as I feared so much. I sent the video to my older sister Bonnie and it revealed that everything  I had should go to my son, CJ. I should mention that “everything I had” was absolutely nothing. I had no assets, hella hospital bills and my bank account had -$17 in it. So I was basically leaving CJ my debt. Poor kid. In my defense, I did have a pretty sweet collection of *NSYNC and Spice Girl memorabilia that I’m sure he could’ve sold on eBay to bring that $-17 right up to an even balance. 

The night before our flight my dad insisted that Dayo and I meet him in the parking lot of a nearby mall. A little background on my dad:

-He was a heavily decorated Air Force officer and policeman when he was younger.  

-He’s very mysterious and always talking in code

-He always has at least 10 pockets in whatever he is wearing that are always full of gadgets and gizmos that could save a person’s life or take it away.

You know the dad from Taken? That’s my dad in a nutshell. My sisters and I are convinced that he’s a spy or an assassin.

Anyway, when we arrived at the parking lot, he gave me $1000 in cash, a universal credit card, a contraption the size of a Tic Tac container that would turn into an inflatable raft upon opening, a giant straw that could purify any water source, a universal phone, and a bright yellow walkie-talkie. I know you guys are going to think I’m making this next part up, but I swear to God this really happened.

As he passed me the walkie-talkie, he says to me very seriously “Katryce, if you are ever in trouble, press this red button and say that you need help. Within five minutes a group of men are going to arrive via helicopter and get you.” He then glanced at Dayo and said “there’s only enough room in the helicopter for one.”

It was a quiet ride home.

The next morning, I almost shit myself. I couldn’t believe I was leaving the country. I had done some research on the Nigerian and South African laws just to make sure there was nothing crazy I could do that would get me arrested when we got there. I was so nervous that I almost got off the plane before take-off. That was until I found out Dayo’s father started a tab for us and we could order as many of those mini bottles of alcohol as we wanted. I can’t remember things exactly, but I’m pretty sure I did the electric slide as I walked off the plane when we landed. I was pretty wasted.

When we landed in Lagos, we were greeted by a gentleman who came to expedite our customs/baggage process. He walked us through the airport and told us that our bags were already in the car.  When we walked outside, three black SUV’s were waiting for us with armed guards surrounding the vehicles.

Now on the outside I looked calm, cool and collected, but my inside voice was telling me to pull out that damn walkie talkie and call for help!

Dayo: “I may have forgotten to mention that my family is very politically involved, so this is basically like secret service.”

Me: *mumbling through my teeth while smiling as to not alert his family of the fact that I was about to murder him* “We’ve been dating for three years. How could you forget to mention that little fact?!?”

Dayo: “I knew if I told you that, you wouldn’t come. It’s all good. If anything now you know you really have nothing to worry about. We’re completely safe and protected.”

Dear God. Help me.

On the ride, I had to sit behind a guard who was holding a giant AK-47. Just my luck.  Even though I was scared shitless, I couldn’t help but take in everything around me.

There were only two types of cars on the road. Extremely expensive ones (Range Rovers, BMW’s, Porsches etc.) or brightly colored vans that were straight out of the 1970’s. Car lanes are not a thing in Nigeria. It’s just one giant road and people “getting in where they fit in”. I literally saw about three cars nick the sides of other cars and no one even stopped. Seeing as though I am the Fender Bender Queen, I was really starting to feel at home.

Everything was so colorful! Everyone was wearing vibrant colors and carrying baskets of plantains and yams on top of their elaborate head wraps. In the middle of some streets you would see groups of children playing soccer in sandals, kicking up clouds of red dust. Women had their babies tightly secured to their backs with thick, patterned wraps. It was beautiful.

In this particular area of Lagos, the people didn’t have much money. But if it’s one thing Nigerians are masters at, it’s hustling. There were fruit stands on every corner and little boys running up to the car to sell you sugar cane and spicy plantain chips. Guys were pulling massive carts filled with brilliantly colored fabrics and women would flock around them to pick from their vivid collection. I kid you not, a man came up to the car with an old sewing machine from like the 1920’s and tried to sell it to me. Honestly, he was so persuasive that if it wasn’t for the fact that I had nowhere to store it, I would’ve bought that thang.

After about an hour and a half of riding in traffic, we crossed over a long bridge that put us in a totally different environment. We were still in Lagos, but it looked drastically different. Most of the roads were paved, there were fewer people on the streets and we were surrounded by ginormous mansions that were guarded by 10ft tall gates. It literally looked like we were in Beverly Hills. We had arrived in Victoria Islands, a city in Lagos where a lot of Dayo’s family lived.  It was absolutely gorgeous.

Now it was time to meet the family and man, did he have A LOT of family. I’ve never met so many aunties, uncles, cousins, sisters and brothers in my entire life. Oh and I should mention that every time you greet an elder, you have to do this curtsy/bow combo. By the end of the night I felt like I had just left an intense Zumba class.

At every family members’ home we went to, they had at the very least a chef, chauffeur and butler. I was trying to play it cool, but on the inside I felt like Halle Berry in B.A.P.S.

After meeting countless family members, we finally called it a night. The wedding was taking place the next day and we had so much to do! Overall, my first impression of Nigeria was that I absolutely loved it and couldn’t wait for the wedding. Little did I know, the next day would not go as smoothly as the first.

CLICK HERE TO READ PART 2

The post That One Time I Went to Nigeria appeared first on The Funny Momma.