I love Sundays

  ✨When Heaven Hits the Charts.  My Take On Brandon Lake & Forrest Frank, Who are Both Currently Shaking Billboard. Let me confess first, because when I saw not one but two Christian songs on the Billboard Hot 100, I did a double-take. I had to clean my glasses and check if it wasn’t Pastor Blessing’s WhatsApp status again. But no, it’s real o. Brandon Lake and Forrest Frank are not just laying hands, they are laying down hits that have gone global! What’s going on, people of God? 🎧 When Gospel Went Global (Again) So, this thing has not happened since 2013—two solid gospel-rooted songs charting together. That year it was “Oceans (Where Feet May Fail).” You remember way back when Hillsong had us all walking on imaginary water. But in 2025? It’s “Hard Fought Hallelujah” from Brandon Lake and “Your Way’s Better” from Forrest Frank. These men of God are not playing. In fact, they’ve turned praise into a movement, a moment, and a mainstream mood. And Jelly Roll. Who would've t...

  🥣 What Should I Feed My Dog? Besides My Sanity. Let me tell you how this post was born. It was a calm Tuesday morning. Kids were off to school, husband gone to work, and for once, I felt like a responsible adult. I decided to treat my dogs, to something special: boiled yam and sardines. Don’t laugh yet. Blaze, my German Shepherd, sniffed it. Licked it a little. Looked me dead in the eye. Then turned away, slowly − like a pastor rejecting temptation. Meanwhile, Raya, my royal Basenji, took two bites, sneezed like a Victorian woman, and left. And my cat, Stu, who was not invited, jumped on the table and ate the sardines. The entire sardines. And vomited in my bathroom an hour later. So again, I ask: 😕"What should I feed my dog?" Reality Check: I Am Not an Expert. But My Mistakes Are Highly Experienced. Let’s start with a few things I thought were okay to feed dogs, until I googled in panic mode: ▪️Bread soaked in milk – Tummy disaster ▪️  Leftover rice with stew – Too spicy...

  🍗 Do Dog Breeds Dictate Nutrition? I'm Asking Because Raya Seems To Think So.   You see, I should’ve known Raya was different from Blaze the moment she side-eyed a bowl of dog food like it insulted her ancestors. Blaze, my ever-hungry mutt, would eat yam peels and act like it’s gourmet. But Raya? She sniffed, blinked slowly, and walked away like the spirit led her elsewhere. That morning, my husband had taken the kids to school, and I was in the kitchen mixing a blend of dry kibble and homemade broth – feeling like a Michelin chef – when she gave me that look. I sighed. “Stu eats boiled eggs, Blaze eats everything, and you... you want charcuterie and bone broth, don’t you?” Raya blinked again. That’s when I asked myself, “Wait o, does dog breed really influence what they should eat?”  So, I did what every Nigerian woman with Wi-Fi and anxiety does. I Googled it. So, Do dog breeds have specific nutritional needs or is my dog just a picky eater with main character energy...

  🚽 Potty Training Pets The Puddles. The Poop. The Perseverance. It started with a squish. At 6:08 a.m., I tiptoed into the living room with one eye open and a head full of prayer points, only to step into something suspiciously warm and wet. Blaze looked at me from his corner, ashamed. Raya? She had the decency to act guilty. Stu the cat? She sauntered by like, “Amateurs.” I stood there, one leg raised like a flamingo, asking myself: “Why didn’t I just wake up 10 minutes earlier?”  “Why is it always my rug?”  “Is this payback for feeding them goat meat yesterday?” The kids were still asleep. My husband had already left for his early hospital shift. I was alone with the consequences of poorly timed potty training. And that’s when I knew I had to get serious. How Do You Successfully Potty Train Your Pets Without Losing Your Sanity, Floor, or Faith? Because I can’t be living like this. I have guests. And ordinary slippers. 🧠 Did You Know? 🔹Potty training relies heavily o...

  🎈"I Never Thought I’d See a Dog Run From Balloons…" But Mine Do, Especially When They Pop! It was my son, Tolu’s birthday, and the house was pure chaos, but in a good way. Balloons of all shapes and colors floated in the air, danced on the tiled floor, and clung to furniture like friendly ghosts.  We had cake, party hats, uninvited neighbor kids (hello, Chinedu’s twins), and at least three times more sugar than recommended by any parenting guide. Blaze and Raya were in the corner at first, suspicious but quiet.  Our cat, Stu, had already claimed the cake table as her throne, judging everyone from her frosted perch. Then it happened. One pink balloon popped near Blaze’s tail.  Raya saw it. Blaze felt it. Both screamed, yes, screamed, and took off like wild goats on caffeine. I blinked. The kids laughed. My husband dropped his drink. And Stu? Stu shook her head like, “I warned you. Balloons are demons.” Why Do Dogs Run From Balloons, and Is It Something to Worry Ab...

  🐕“They Always Look Hungry!” The Truth About Pet Begging, Overfeeding, and the Power of Scheduled Meals   It was Saturday morning, and my compound was unusually quiet. My husband had taken the kids to his cousin’s naming ceremony in Epe, leaving me with my zobo, my peace of mind, and — unfortunately, three furry freeloaders who thought today was cheat day. The moment I opened the oven to check on my sweet potato pies, it began. Blaze, my golden retriever, performed his usual silent but emotionally manipulative routine: sitting perfectly still, eyes wide and watery, tail sweeping slowly like a metronome of guilt. Raya, my Basenji with the face of a monk and the appetite of a bottomless pit, started pacing like a worried accountant. And Stu, the cat with attitude and a superiority complex, meowed in slow, spaced-out syllables, as though reciting an ancient curse. “You guys just ate less than an hour ago,” I said, defending myself to creatures who don’t pay rent. Raya did a sof...

  🔍“Ew, What’s That?!” Checking Pets for Ticks, Bites, and Stings Without Losing Your Mind (Or Lunch) It all started one Thursday afternoon when Blaze wouldn't stop scratching his left ear like it was hiding treasure.  Raya, my Basenji, paced anxiously beside him, barking at the air.  Stu the cat sat on the windowsill watching them, utterly unbothered, like she knew exactly what was wrong and simply refused to help. I was elbow-deep in a sink full of fish guts (don’t ask), trying to prep dinner when I noticed a lump the size of a garri grain behind Blaze’s ear. Cue panic. Cue gloves. Cue magnifying glass, flashlight, and a muttered prayer. My husband was still stuck in traffic. The kids were at Grandma's. It was just me, a suspicious bump, and two dramatic dogs. “Okay, Blaze,” I said, holding his ear like it was a crime scene. “Let’s see what kind of evil this is.” I saw…legs. Tiny, spidery, moving legs. I screamed. Blaze yawned. Raya started barking in Yoruba. It was a ...