I remember the first disagreement I had with LBD after we got married. I was in my first trimester, pregnant with MD. Late one night, we were ready to retire for the night. It started with small talk. LBD was re-living some of his boarding-school memories. He strongly believes that boarding school instilled some serious discipline in him. Then he mentioned how he’d love for our kids to have the boarding-school experience.
Now here I was, a proper home-bred daddy’s girl, never attended boarding school, heard some horrifying stories out of there. I couldn’t even imagine subjecting my yet-unborn child and his yet un-conceived siblings to the horror of the boarding school life. Combine all of these with the hormones messing with my pregnant self.
I flipped. “For what?! No child of mine is going to boarding school. No way! What will I do with myself while strangers are raising my kids? I can’t believe you would even consider this! Haba Maigida!” I went on and on. I told him of the stories I had heard, how some of the boarders were forced to practice homosexuality, how they carried our abortions with metal hangers, how they ate bowls of beans mixed with weevils, how boys jumped the fences to enter the girls’ hostel bathrooms, how their hostels were always full of bedbugs, how they bathed with cold water during harmattan season, etc.
LBD didn’t understand wetin cause fight inside this matter. He made to turn his back and sleep. My hormones will not allow. In that moment, it didn’t matter that I didn’t even know the sex of my unborn child yet. It didn’t matter that there was at least a decade before this decision had to really be made. It didn’t matter that LBD had not necessarily decided finally on this non-issue. It didn’t matter to me that there was so much that could happen between now and then. I just couldn’t afford to be rational.
Small time, LBD dozed off. I couldn’t sleep. I was having a heart-to-heart conversation with my hormones.
Hormones: “This is why they always tell you in marriage counseling to discuss and talk about everything”.
Me: “We talked about everything, but the issue of day school and boarding school never arose”.
Hormones: “Na so wahala dey start o. Small time now, he will give your kids tribal marks. Hmnn… I pity you”.
Me: “God forbid bad thing. That will be terrible. I would never allow that to happen!”
Hormones: “Yinmu. You better wake him up now and thrash it out once and for all”.
Me: “But he is sleeping. He had a long day and deserves…”
Hormones: “Long day fire! Don’t call me when he starts putting ugly tribal marks on your children’s faces o. Shebi your father’s people have tribal marks too? You can join him to do the tribal marks too. Your your kids will have Plateau tribal mark on one side of their face, and Ibadan tribal mark on the other side. Oshisko. Wake him jor! Wake him. Wake him. Wake him now. Wake him…”
Then the struggle began. Should I listen to myself or should I listen to Miss Hormones?
Thankfully, sleep overcame both of us. Next morning, I didn’t even remember it again.
I bet everyone here has had some crazy hormone moments too. Don’t be shy. Share your stories in the comment sections below. Major shout out to LBD and other amazing super-husbands and super-dads out there, who have to be at the receiving end of these. You know we love you, yea?
Funmi Dakum.

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