In Brazil Family is all Relative

This weekend my son met his 4th cousin. Of course, per Brazilian law, he was referred to as just a cousin, not 2nd twice removed or anything fun like that. That's probably why I didn't even know that the "cousin" visiting was actually a second cousin and the aunt (his Mother) not the sister but the cousin of my Mother-in-law.

This has only confirmed for me that if you have been to 2 family lunches and talk to a one of the family members on the phone once a year, you are a cousin by Brazilian genealogy.

So why I am at all surprised that we are invited to... take a breath and prepare for this one... the late Grandmother's boyfriend's daughter's boyfriend's son's wedding.

That, my good friends, is just awesomeness in it's purest form!

It's All in a Name

I dare you, go to your local daycare and look at their list of students. Ok, don't do that. You'll look creepy. But as a Mom, I got the inside scoop today while walking the slow path of my youngest's re-adaptation to school.

I was bored out of my mind waiting around so I checked out the class lists posted on the bulletin board in the parent waiting area.  I was astonished by the names. Seriously they have like 4 or 5 of them.

My first thought was how do the parents think of 2 first names!? I had a hell of a time coming up with one.  So you have little João Pedro and cutie Maria Victoria, among many others.  Adorable names.  Really, I am just amazed by the mad name combination skills of the parents here. Gold star.

That's where thought number 2 comes in. I always have a thought #2, don't I.

Anyway, how are they ever going to learn to spell their name? João is a tough enough for a 4 year old. I mean, the accent mark is enough to confuse the smartest of preschoolers. Hell, they can't even do an S, imagine making them do a discrete scribble above a letter. Now add in a second word all together. And go.  

I know you all think I'm making a mountain out of a mole hill. Of course I am. It's what I do best and what my husband loves the most about me. Maybe not the last part.  But just wait for it.  Wait for it.

Add in the last name.

Poor little João not only has to write João Pedro but also has to include Cavalcanti Pereira Silva de Olivera.

João Pedro Cavalcanti Pereira Silva de Olivera.

That's just mean.  You have to have a 5th Grade reading level to master that kind of name! And while that name was a fabulous creation out of my own mind (thank you thank you), the names really are that long.

Hell, you can spot my children's names from a mile away due to the shortness.  Personally, I don't want to be little João Pedro when he goes for a year abroad and tries to get a US drivers license.  We just don't have that kind of space available on our paperwork.

If I had a last name like Cavalcanti Pereira Silva de Olivera, I would name my kid Jay or Joe. Maybe Jose or Yuri. You know, something to lighten up the thing. There's really no need to give them a second first name to cover the Great Grandfather when we see it in the last.

Of course Brazilians are a sentimental people.  They love their families, their names, and mostly their children. They want to honor the elderly they adore by including their name in their childrens'.  That's awesome and I love it.

So their children will bear the burden of that love and then, quite possibly, pass it down to their children. The best part, most hilarious part in my opinion, is that they don't even notice. The double name is all the rage. You know who complains or says something about it, my son with the simple first name. 

Go figure.

What? Where?

I feel guilty because I miss the dynamic of my Brazilian family.  I should be all butterflies and daisies because I'm here, but I'm not.

My family has always been one to bicker and pick at each other. Regardless, we enjoyed each others company... or that's how I perceived it at the time.

What has changed, I do not know. Maybe it's just my tolerance to negativity has decreased. Maybe I just no longer get why people have to control themselves or feel like family get-togethers are a thing that need tolerated.

I don't understand the lack of flexibility or adaptation. And I'm sure I have my label with them. I'm sure in some way or another, my family is seeing me as being a douche.  Maybe my new Christmas nickname is self-righteous Brazilian Wannabe.  God only knows.

But why is it that when we get home, we are automatically converted back to our old selves. My family always have and forever will see me as an obnoxious 13 yr old girl with braces.  And yes, I was the Queen of all Obnoxious 13 year olds, but I don't think that means I deserve to be treated as one for the rest of my life.

Maybe if one of the numerous offspring would ask how my life is, they would know that I have grown up slightly.  While I'd like to think the two offspring of my own would be a clue, we all know children do not automatically make the parents into adults, sadly enough.

I think we just need a really good surgeon that does not mind working under odd conditions.  We can sterilize the bathroom and get everyone lined up.  One by one he can pull all the sticks out of our asses.  Seriously! If we can't do it ourselves, we sure as hell should be able to call a professional to do it for us.

And you all? Have you ever had to call in this kind of surgeon to your family events?

Christmas and Family

We look forward to Christmas and getting the entire family together.  That goes double for us expats because it's rare that we get to have these family get-togethers with our own families.

Then the novelty wears off.

You see, we Americans, a chunk of us anyway, don't live near our family. We don't have weekly family lunches like the Brazilians. We aren't used to the in-your-face comfort that family members have with each other. You know, the one that allows us to say 'You look kind of fat in that sweater.'  

Brazilians have it down.  You become less and less sensitive to your family's idiosyncrasies when you are faced with them, at the very least, on a weekly basis.  Uncle's never-ending conversation topics, Aunt's annoyance at the invasion of personal space, or Grandpa's gas just doesn't bother you as much when you are around them constantly.

Now look at my family for instance.  My parents produced 4 offspring during their bedroom fun time.  Each one of us live in a different city.  We are close by American standards... I would dare to say that we are even close by international standards.

So you take us, our parents, our spouses, and the couple of babies we have produced and put us into one house.  There will be a bit of bickering. Someone is ALWAYS going to be too sensitive. My brothers are always going to say I'm over-reacting.  Annoying, really. I could be bit by a rabid squirrel while being beat by the UPS guy and they'd still give me shit if I complained.

And the thing is, I love it. Yet again, call me a sadomasochist but it just melts my butter to be able to bicker and laugh with my family.  I enjoy gossiping with the 10 adults (usually on a one on one basis and about another one of the group), rolling around with the 4 kids, and celebrating the joint need for a drink because of all the "festivities".

Call me crazy, but it doesn't seem like Christmas if someone isn't getting smacked in the back of the head or mocking one or all of the siblings.  What kind of Christmas doesn't have people debating meal choices, spilling coffee or wine, and general chaos of all kinds.

I think Christmas with the family is like a good Broadway play.  It requires laughing, crying, drama, an obstacle, spontaneous song, and a happy ending.  And we'll have met all the requirements this first day, that is, once we get the Karaoke set up.

Merry Christmas!

Christmas, from the other side.

I have to say, it can sometimes SUCK to be an expat during Christmas. The SU of the suck is double when you are an expat from a country with 2 to 4 seasons and you are living in Brazil.

You see, Brazil is like the inside of an easy bake oven during the Holiday Season.   Hell hath no fury like Brazilian summer.

I remember my first summer in Brazil. I was all excited to experience my husband's version of Christmas.  I was even a bit excited to be spending my first Christmas away from home. Oh, how grown up and worldly I had become.

Plus, it didn't even feel like Christmas. I was more golden than the turkey after all the beach time, probably just as crisp.  And I don't care how many lights you put on building gates and palm trees, it ain't Christmas to me.

We got to the Grandma's house and it was all hustle and bustle, green and red, food everywhere, and people drinking. Of course, we were all melting too. Stupidly cold beers were being passed out to help with the heat, and we were all crammed on the veranda.

It was awesome. Of course I missed my family but with all the color, flavors, and sass of it all, it was easy to be distracted.

Then it happened. They put on Christmas music in English. I heard the start of Silent Night and the tears started to flow.  My family isn't the circle around the fire and sing carols type of family but the music still struck a cord.  The thing was that, it was a part of my Christmas.  It reminded me of how weird it was for me to have swamp ass  at a Christmas party.  I should have been drinking red wine or egg nog, although I hate egg nog.  And what the hell was with the french toast!? Good stuff but really, as a Christmas appetizer?

Don't worry, it all ended well. I was shuffled to the phone to call my family and matar saudade (kill the missings, for lack of a better term).

Now we combine traditions when we are in Brazil.  We open family presents Christmas eve with the family and the kids open the presents from us on Christmas morning. Santa does stocking for my little half Americans in Brazil.  And we have Christmas day lunch as well as a Christmas eve dinner.

On rare occasions like this year, we get to come stateside for the holidays.  Times like these, we do it 110% with all the treats, all the drinks, all the presents, and damn good stockings.

How about you guys? How have you blended your holiday traditions?  What do you miss most about Christmas at your other home?

Insert Foot Here

In the post Free Hug, I got all touchy feely about the Brazilian way of caring.  What can I say, it seems I've adapted after 4 years down here.

But there is a little bit of a backlash to that adaptation.  So let me ask you, what do you get when you take an ex-pat and evolve her into the Brazilian definition of caring? 

Answer: A very inappropriate ex-Pat indeed! 

The problem as an ex-Pat American is that I'm blunt.  Combine that with the Brazilian openness and you got yourself some foot in the mouth conversations. 

For example, it's not uncommon for your Mother-in-law to have mentioned to your husband's best friend that you have a bladder infection and then for him to ask you how that infection is going when you all meet up for beers.  Totally socially acceptable. 

Not acceptable is when I asked my husband's cousin why his wife hadn't come to the family lunch.  He was elusive, which is not normal down here and that should have been my hint to shut up. Of course I missed it and persisted, to which he announced their separation.  Ouch!

Of course there were no hard feelings.  Got to love the forgive and forget attitude down here! Of course, I think our friends and family really all remember and just think, 'oh that Rachel, putting her foot in her mouth again.'

You know, as long as my awkwardness is openly accepted and we all have a laugh.

Free Hug

I've talked a decent amount about Brazilian families and their part in marriages, your roles within them, and how they work.

Well, I've had a different view of the Brazilian family these past couple of days.  It's a family I've always known but have never had the need to experience.

It's your extended Brazilian family.  Aka. Everyone you interact with on a daily basis.

So we are the gossip of the neighborhood because our youngest is in the hospital. Everyone knows via talk from everyone else.  But it's not just gossip, it's real concern.

The first morning after my little one was hospitalized, I got a call from his school.  They wanted to know how they could help. The school psychologist called and she said "We are not doctors. I know we can't help that way but we want to say that we are here if you need anything. Anything at all.  And we want to know how he is doing? blah blah our conversation blah Please keep us updated!"  They have checked in daily.


I have spoken with our building manager and our doorman.  My Mother-in-law has spoken with the doorman at our kid's school, the teachers, the coordinator, and the head of the pre-school area. 

My pediatrician has called me daily, if not twice daily, to ask me how I think he's doing and what the doctors told me.  He then tells me everything they told him as he called them first so that he could clarify anything I didn't understand.

Mr. Rant's Mother, Brother, and Brother's wife have picked my oldest up from school the past couple of days, taking him out, and treating him so this time would be one of excess as opposed to lacking.

I've had visits from friends and family.  And hospital even lets my son is visit, even though he's under 5.

And my Mother-in-law has been at my beck and call regardless of the fact that she has been dealing with everything going on with her mother.  Her mother, who we now fear may be brain-dead.  And with all that, she is picking up my son, playing his silly 4 year old games, and asking me how she can help me.

On top of it all, my husband is only working part time because he is taking care of our oldest when he's not in school.  This is the husband who comes home from a long stressful meeting and deals with a phone call from a crying wife who lays into him basically because her nerves are fried.  Listening to you kid, who is on a drip, scream in pain every time he pees will do that to you.  There was nothing I could do. Thankfully, after about 12 hrs, it passed and he's feeling much better.

Anyway, the husband who took that bad treatment and understood where it came from.  He came to alleviate me from the hospital with a smile on his face and a hug for me.  No need to discuss, no need for an apology.  And I gave him more shit for being late. Yeah, I suck ass.  And he had all the patience and understanding in the world.  He told me he couldn't have handled the first two nights there but now, because it's easier, he could give me a break.  Wow! A man who can handle the world and then admits when he can't.  The balance of the world, my world.  I must give good head or something.


The thing is, this culture can be judgmental, overly intrusive, and sometimes a bit in your face.  But when you need some compassion, real compassion, and a get out of jail free card when things are tough, they give it to you before you even ask.  It's as if they have the important parts of humanity down.

The world would be a much better place if they would just learn from the Brazilians.

The Great-Grandmother

So a little family drama today.  Actually, it started in the middle of the night last night. 

The Monarch of family had a heart attack. 

I´ve resisted getting truly personal on this blog for obvious reasons but I am compelled to tell you about this woman. 

She´s 83 years old but has more Sass now than I can muster at my feisty 30 years.  She married her love who was already married at the time.  Divorce was big NO NO then and they ran away.  He was an amazing piano player. His piano is on display in a museum their home town. 

They had 6 children, 4 daughters and 2 sons.  The third was born on the floor in their apartment.  It was during a war in Brazil and they lived in a small town. The maternity hospital was being used as bunkers for the soldiers so her and her maid were waiting for the midwife to show up.  Very unBrazilian of the baby, it couldn´t wait and the Grandmother gave birth into the hands of her maid.

Well, the maid freaked the hell out, and who can blame her. So, according to the Grandmother, she passed the afterbirth and got up to make the other kids their bottles.  In her words, 'They were crying and were hungry and the maid (I forgot her name) was just staying there in hysterics.'  The story goes that she took the newborn and started to boil the water. The maid finally calmed down enough to hold the new one so that she could finish the bottle process and pop them into the mouths of the other two. 

That is a wonderful picture of who this woman is. I bet she was berating the maid about not holding it together. 

Her husband died during the military dictatorship.  It seems that he was getting some hell in his job because he was sensitive to the other side. He had a heart attack.

She continued her job, raised their children, and took in other children and raised them.  Hello Super Star!

Her house was like a ship. She went to work, the kids were expected to do what they needed to do. My Mother-in-Law was the master of the child army.  Chores, homework, and housework had to be done by the time the Grandmother walked in the door from work. Not to mention dinner on the table. She pre-planned the menus and the older ones had to cook it.

Did I mention that the kids, now adults, of this family are AMAZING cooks! 

Some more fun facts.  At around 76 years old she broke her arm and had to have a cast put on. She tired of it after about 2 weeks and sawed it off with a kitchen knife.  She never got another cast and she has yet to complain about any after effects. 

She´s had a boyfriend for 20 years and refuses to marry him. She´s already had a husband.

She flies to her favorite festivals and to visit family alone. She was on her way home yesterday from visiting friends and attending a festival in Belém. 

She is constantly invited to visit people, begged even. Come and stay with us!  She is loved by everyone. 

Do not call this woman during the soap operas. She will hang up on you. 

She is the only honest to God direct person I have yet to meet in Rio de Janeiro. You always know where you stand with her. 

She is touchy feely. I`m a closet touchy feely person but I need permission from the person to be that way.  I met her, not speaking a word of the language, and she put her hand around my waist and didn´t let go.  I regularly come up behind her and drape on her like I´ve known her my entire life.

She reminds me of my Grandmother who died when I was 13. 

She is the kind of woman they don´t make anymore.  She can be hard and knows tough love.  At the same time, she is as soft as dolce de leite.  She makes a home just by being there.  She doesn´t expect anything of children except for them to be children. That includes occasional breaking of nice things, all by accident of course. 

And she laughs. She´s a picture of laughter for life, especially when it´s inappropriate.  

As for her condition, she is doing well. She is in the ICU and will be for a couple of days at the very least.  They have to wait for her to stabilize so that they can test how weak her heart is now.


And her hair and nails still look fabulous!

A Breakdown of the Brazilian Family

All families are different, and yet, all families are crazy. 

So I´ve decided to break down the dynamic of the Brazilian family as viewed from a wife. 

The Mother is in charge. Yes, your husband´s Mother.  There´s really nothing you can do about it.  You went to put his balls in your purse and realized they were already in someone else´s.  It happens.

Keep in mind that it will never be said out loud but it is true. They are die-hard Momma´s boys and that´s really not a bad thing. One of these days, when their Mother croaks, you will be the proud owner of a shiny new pair of... you get the picture. Of course, that will never happen. The Brazilian Mother-in-Law never dies. She outlives us all. 

Worst case scenario, you could always go and talk to her boss. Who you ask.  Her Mother. Her Mother is the boss of her... and her husband. While we´re at it, you and your husband as well.  Don´t worry, the Grandmother is the high up boss. You rarely have contact with her. Your Mother-in-law has to bear that burden. 

Do keep in mind though that the Grandmother will not help you. Your troubles are petty to her. If she was born and bred in Brazil, she has lived through things you can´t even imagine. I´m talking popping out a baby on the floor of her kitchen into the arms of a screaming maid because the maternity hospital in the tiny town was taken over by soldiers during the war and the midwife didn´t make it in time. In case you are curious, she cut her own umbilical cord and heated up a bottle for the older child who was crying because the maid couldn´t pull herself together. Yes, that is my Grandmother-in-law. My leg could get cut off and she´d just tell me to get over it. 

Now the second in command to the Grandmother is the Aunt.  Come on, you know that aunt. Every family in Brazil has one. She has never married and is still living with the Grandparents.  She is the go to guy when you want to request a certain meal at family lunches.  Of course she is, she´s the one who goes to the feira and cooks almost everything. 

So what does that make you? Depends on how many women in the family. I figure, if the Brazilian family were a pirate ship, I´d be swabbing the deck.  While that annoyed me at the beginning, I´ve found the beauty in it. There are so many characters that I´m almost living the Pirates of the Caribbean, only it´s more entertaining. 

The Sass is palpable and I have to say, I like it. I love these ladies.  For that matter, I adore the men too.  I find the laughing, bickering, uninvited advice, and gossip all quite endearing.  Strange how that happens. I guess you could call me adapted.

Above all, you must remember that these woman, although fabulously crazy in their own respect, will bend over backward for you and your family.  They would sell the family apartment if need be.  That´s the thing about the Brazilian family, they are in it for the long haul.  You are family, whether you like it or not, and that comes with certain responsibilities and definite privileges.  You can and should go to them.  Just keep in mind that everyone else in the family will know your business. What am I saying?  They already do.  It´s just the Brazilian way. They are a talkative bunch.