By Sofola Bunmi

For almost a week, Wura, a pharmacist recently battled a chronic attack of the malaria fever.  “I was home-bound,” she said, “and Nick, my husband was no help.  A typical Mama’s boy.  I couldn’t count on him to look after himself, let alone after our two kids.  

The house-help was new and we needed some urgent things at the neighbourhood supermarket, could he nip down and get them?  He looked a bit ruffled – I’d ask him to do the unthinkable.  Declaring exhaustion after an hour at the supermarket with our three-year-old son, he said he needed to be ‘left alone’ to take a restorative nap!

“I couldn’t be mad at him.  Not really.  You see, it’s not Nick’s fault he is the way he is.  He was constantly molly-coddled by his mother and it’s her fault that the most mundane of challenges send him into a tailspin.  Spoilt, adored and over-indulged for nearly 30 of his 39 years on earth, I see the fact that he managed to make it to the supermarket and complete the shopping as nothing short of a miracle.

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‘My mother-in-law thinks my husband – her only son – is perfect.  She can’t do enough for him.  No wonder he wouldn’t move out of the family house as his mum insisted there was more than enough room for all of us.  He often gets the help to get his car washed.  On his return home, his evening meals were always mouth-watering.  And what did she get as a reward?  Nothing but the occasional ‘you’re the best mum in the world’ and the odd chocolates she passed to her grandkids.  But she so much adores her man-child, that she simply didn’t care.

“It’s a bonus that I have a great relationship with my mother-in-law. She happily admitted she’d always spoilt him rotten.  ‘I can’t help it!’ she said unapologetically, acknowledging that she’s largely responsible for making him expect constant praise and willing servitude from me and all who encounter him.  According to her: ‘As not only our first child, he was also the first grandchild to my parents, Nick grew up worshipped by everyone in our extended family.  He is a cute little child, really funny and sweet, so he had us all wrapped around his little finger.  To this day, his grand-dad still calls him God!’

“I’d always thought I was to blame for creating this domestic monster.  I thought it was my fault he expected a giant pat on the back if he put his plates in the sink.  Earlier in our marriage, I’d encourage him to think he was special when he did the odd chore so as to motivate him to help around the house more.  I told him he was wonderful for putting a new toilet roll in the holder, rather than balancing the replacement on top.  I thanked him profusely when his underwear find their way to the laundry basket, rather than lying across the carpet.  I sang his praises every time he decided to take charge of unloading the washing machine.  I thought it was down to all these encouragements that, once we started our own family, he did a Davido jig whenever he deigned to change a nappy.  Now I know the blame lies with his mother.

But his reaction to his recent supermarket trip set my teem on edge.  Ignoring that I was doubled up in pain, he returned from the store, puffing and huffing.  ‘I hope you appreciate what I’ve done,’ he whined.  ‘The store was packed with screaming kids and it took ages to get a parking space.  I don’t think you realise how annoying it is, shopping on a Saturday.  I don’t mind doing it really, as long as you’re grateful.  I just want you to know it was quite tough, but I did it,’

“But before a stampede of indignant readers beat a path to our door, ready to wring my husband’s neck, they should know I’m not alone.  Plenty of wives suffer from the problems created by their other halves’ over-indulgent mothers.  A friend was recently quick to point out her own little Mummy’s boy is just as bad.  “I often entertain his family for days on end, but he hides in his study after ten minutes of polite chat with my mother, then feels deserving of a quiet stint at the club to recover,” she said.  ‘He expects a lie in it once he gets up in the night to see to the generator or soothe the kids.  At all other times, he expects to be worshipped.  I blame his mum.  She spoilt him.  No wonder he thinks he endures a life of hard knocks married to a shrew!”

“I’ve always been a Mummy’s boy,” bragged my husband, ‘and it hasn’t done any harm’.  Only, I have these feelings that Oseh, our three-year-old son is stealing Nick’s thunder.  He is much cuter, sweeter and more deserving of attention than his father could ever be.  Will Oseh finally put an end to his father’s status as treasured number-one son?

Despite being a bit misguided about what a superhero he is at times, Nick’s a lovely son, husband and father, and credit where it’s due, I can’t fault him for that.  I now realise I’m in my mother-in-law’s club – a devoted mother who would do anything for her little boy – even when he’s in his 30, with a family of his own, just like my mother-in-law did!  Will I cook my son’s meals?  Quite possibly.  Arranged for his car to be washed and do all his laundry?  We’ll have to wait and see.  In fact, I already feel sorry for my future daughter-in-law if she dares interfere!  As things are, our seven-year-old daughter looks at me with disdain whenever I took her through some house-hold chores while her brother plays happily.  She would thank me for it one day if, God forbid, she has to deal with a man made God!”