I Was Played

I don't know if you remember my post about my standoff with Mr. Rant's Grandmother over goodie bags. If you don't, I said that I had thought that I had outsmarted her. I was sure that I had guarded those bad boys with the skill of a well oiled machine.

I should have known better. Today we had lunch with her at her apartment. At some point during the post meal digesting and chatting period the Grandma starting pulling out the toys that were given in the goodie bags. She was giving them to my boys to play with.

My guess is that she was going for the second bag when I snagged her.

Well played Granny! Well played!

The Standoff

Last night I had the standoff of my year. It was between me and the Grandmother of Mr. Rant, the Great-Grandmother of the Chatterbox.

You see, she steals goodie bags. I guess you can't say she steals them but actually takes them to give them to other random children like her maid's kids and such.

It really is a cultural thing. All Brazilians have this idea that they are entitled to a goodie bag if they should even know of a child around the age of the birthday boy. This is normally ok but I am that weird Mother who takes her kid's goodie bags way too seriously. No crap, nothing that doesn't even work when you take it out, and definitely not all candy.

This year my parents were rock stars and mailed a box of US goodies you just can't find here. We're talking sticky hands, flyers, and finger flashlights among other things. So when I managed to only make 48 goodie bags, and at least 40 kids were definitely showing up, I knew I'd have to take the Monarch down.

It's not as easy as it sounds. Trust me! When your child's Brazilian Great-Grandmother makes a request, you do not say no! For example, when she makes an effort to bring you a cup canjica she sweetly made for the party, even though it really doesn't go with your beer and hot dog, you eat it. It's just how things roll.

So when she came up and requested a couple of goodie bags I had to hold my ground. Honestly, I had to picture crying children and Mr. Rant scolding me for not being more prepared. I told her "Sorry Grandma but there may not be enough bags. More people came than expected but if any are left over I will bring them over to your place on Monday."

Of course she replied "oh but only 2. For sure 2 is ok."

"Sorry Grandma, I can't. I don't know if we have enough. I promise you will be the first to know if any are left over though!"

A short time later I finally got to leave my goodie bag post as people were not hovering over me like happy cake fed vultures.

The moment I left the table I turned back. Call it instinct, call it knowing better, call it life experience. There circling the good bag box was the Great-Grandma. She was slow, smooth, and innocent but I knew better.

When I sauntered up to the table I got the famous granny 'You may have caught me but I'm too damn cute for you to say anything grin' and she shuffled away. This much sass from an 87 yr old. I would love to have seen her at 20!

By the way, I had the perfect number of gift bags! 48 bags to 48 kids exactly! 

American Schools Lose Sanity

I read an absolutely crazy article today: The 6 Dumbest Things Schools are Doing in the Name of Safety

We are talking electronic tracking devices, banning photography, monetary fines and prison jumpsuits for Dress code Violations. This is madness! It's making ever so proud of my kids' overly liberal school that I like to refer to as The Harvard School of Finger Painting.

I would pay money to see the reaction of Brazilians if a school did this down here. There's already talk that the British School is too strict because the kids have to sit at desks for long periods of time. I mean we're all about education but where the hell is the line?!

For starters, are the kids going to pay the fines? My 4 yr has yet to get a job, no matter how much I mention it to him. Damn child labor laws. So the money is coming out of my pocket. This makes me think that the schools are trying to hit parents where it hurts as a means of getting them involved in their children's scholarly lives. Well, when I say it that way it kind of makes sense. Maybe the "boys will be boys" attitude would disappear if it costs the parents $50 a pop.

But electronic tracking devices? Half the fun of high school is attempting to skip. The school eventually notices anyway. I know this partially due to the fact that American public schools receive funding based on attendance. Obviously you want the kids there because you get paid next to nothing even then, but let me point something out. Aren't kids supposed to learn accountability? Will that happen if they are on an electronic leash? Hell, your dog never learned to heel by being tied to the side of the house all day. Yes, I just compared kids with dogs. I have 2 so I'm allowed.

My personal favorite is the ban on photography as a means to deter pedophilia. Thank goodness they figured out that Chester Molester only acts when he/she can take pictures.

Freaking hell people, let the kids have photographic evidence of their memories from school. Let parents put together scrap books and teachers remember the children who innocently touched them. I mean, Americans would just crap themselves down here in Brazil. It is not uncommon for kids to take baths at school. They also put out kiddie pools in the hottest months and if parents forget bathing suits those kids go in their underwear if they want to. If this were the states the entire place would be shut down!

Of course I understand that we have to protect our kids but there are some things that they have to figure out for themselves (minus molestation of course). It's ok to give limits but to control, ban, and fine them is ridiculous.

For goodness sake America, you are really making it hard for me to ever want to live there! Don't worry, I'll always come back for a visit. What you lack in sanity you make up for in shopping and crap food.

Rio de Janeiro's Newest Dealer

I have become Rio de Janeiro's newest dealer, but it's not what you think.

A couple of foreigner women have shown up at my apartment. Due to their schedules and such, I have met them in front of my building where we make the exchange. It's a very 'Do you the have money because I have the stuff' kind of situation. FYI, I only work with cash.

The stuff, used baby gear. I have become a hoarder of all things baby and American. I just can't help it. Call me cheap, resourceful, and maybe a bit crazy but this stuff is like gold! I refuse to pay the inflated Brazilian prices and have planned my purchases abroad accordingly!  Apparently, I'm not the only one who thinks this way.

Foreigners as far as Leblon have ventured to the other side of the tracks to purchase these reasonably priced and delicately used items. While no Brazilians have taken a bite, foreigners have jumped on it. I'm starting to see a dolce de leite vs peanut butter kind of preference here.

Honestly though, I am amazed with this cultural difference. Brazilians do not like to buy things used. Sure Mercado livre (a Brazilian Amazon-ish site) is alive and well, but that is not the general public. There have been a couple of used baby gear stores in my neighborhood that have crashed and burned in months.

Brazilians will use their own stuff to death but what they accept used is very limited. Hell, I haven't had one person here say they have some old clothes from their kids to give to us but I have received bags from friends every single time I go back for a visit.

Foreigners are just different. If it's an item that your kid is going to use for a year top, why pay the crazy prices at Lojas Americanas! We'll take just about anything, clean it up, and put it in our house. Just look at garage sales. If you really think about it, it's a kind of creepy practice.

But things are different here. It is much more common to give your used items to your maid or doorman than to offer them to a friend. Why give things to someone who has the money to buy them themselves? I also find that middle class Brazilians are a smidgen paranoid when it comes to cleanliness. The fact that I was expected to iron my baby's clothes to "sterilize" them was beyond my comprehension. First, I don't think sterilization works like that. Secondly, if I don't even iron my clothes it's just best for baby to get into the program from birth. I wouldn't want him to expect things that just aren't going to happen.

And don't even get me started on Mr. Rant and his not sitting on things in street clothes issue! Street clothes? Who says that?!

It begs me to ask, is buying used vs new a cultural habit that is based on our home country's socioeconomic status? Or are we foreigners a bit dirty and cheap and are Brazilians selectively OCD? 

A Trip to the Country

We had an abnormally wonderful treat this week as Mr. Rant actually took 2 days off of work and took all of us out to the country! My MIL has never been happier to have her house invaded by us for an almost full 4 days.

We made this trip especially fabulous by bringing second cousins visiting from France with their son. Chatterbox was in 4 yr old heaven sharing his special place with his 3rd or 4th cousin removed, whatever Mr. Rant's 2nd cousin's child would be to our son. I'm sure Ray, Gritty Poet, or Jim will know the answer to that riddle.

Anyway, I'm taking a break from the madness as a Botafogo game (plus ipads and Ben 10) are humoring the masses.

It's been an awesome trip and I will sadly be heading back into the city tomorrow. I will say though, I was great to get away and show my children that pideons aren't in fact birds, trees don't only grow in parks, and that you can actually go for a walk without running into other people.

All and all, this weekend was a homerun!

*Please note that I can not spell check as the site and computer are refusing to leave their Portuguese bubble. I am not, therefore, responsible for misspellings, my 4th grade teacher is. Please take all issues up with Mrs. McKee.

Mr. Rant's Grandpa's Rule for a Long Life

Old Photo of the Grandpa explaining the beauties of oranges to a pregnant me 

Mr. Rant's Grandfather has rules for living a healthy life. Goodness knows where these rules come from but they seem to work. The man is 93 years old and other members of his family lived passed 100!

Personally, I'll take 90 and then go on my way. I'm not into the idea of being the person dusted in the corner, and knowing my lazy ass I will be!  I suppose I should start following these rules anyway as the average lifespan in my family is about 70 years old, maybe not even that.

So here are his rules:

1. Start your day with a glass of water. Drink or eat nothing else before your glass of water.

2. Have a fruit smoothie every morning. His has a base of orange juice and usually includes a papaya and banana along with numerous grains such as cerveja (wheat used to make beer).

3. Eat well. This man, at his 93 yrs of age, eats like a horse. Actually, more like a Northeastern horse. Yes, that means significantly more food and spicier. FYI: This means real food and not microwavable crap.

4. Clean out your nose. I find this disgusting, Mr. Rant is a HUGE fan of it, and I read that it is actually good for you. You basically go to the sink, put some water up there, and then you blow it out. Nauseating for me to hear in the am but supposedly good for your sinuses.

5. Stay active. This man was active until like 3 years ago. He did the Saturday morning farmer's market run for his household, ran errands in downtown Rio, and did it all sporting a button up shirt and slacks.

There you have it. These are the tricks to living a longer and healthier life. There are also a few things that I have observed him doing that are not necessarily rules. He eats a lot of oranges, at least one after meals. He says it aides in digestion. Fish is at least a weekly part of his diet. His wife also cooks dark leafy greens in their homemade black beans. That means double the goodness.

Last but certainly not least, napping is good.

Parent Connections Save the Day

Yesterday a member of the staff at my sons' school ended up at a public hospital. The problem, chronic obstructive pulmonary disability. 

He was in horrible condition and needed to be transferred to a hospital with an ICU. Bureaucracy in Brazil is not very friendly in times of emergency as speed is not in it's dictionary.  

That's where community came in. The school sent out a mass email to parents of children in the school as well as a message on the school's facebook page. It asked that if anyone could help, please contact the school. 

You see, sometimes all that is keeping someone from getting to where they need to be is a signature of the head doctor who is out of the office. Something as simple as that can keep a patient from getting specialized care.

Turns out that there are some people who know someone, or know someone who knows someone because it was taken care of. The message was sent yesterday just before 1pm. With a little help from our own school community, he was transferred at 5pm the same day. 

It just goes to show the idiocracy of the public medical system (although still better than no system at all USA), and how much a community can help.  

As for his current condition, we have no news as of yet. Visiting hours have just ended and his family should be letting everyone know shortly. 

Married into the Mob

Apparently I've married into the Mafia. As it turns out "the family" has changed our weekend lunch from Sunday to Saturday. There was no notice. There was no checking of availability. We were told.

For once I actually had concrete plans on Saturday. We had another lunch with someone who is not in the same bloodline as Mr. Rant. Oh my, I just realized that I am writing had. We HAD another lunch. See, the transfer is complete. I am now a member of this mob family.

But it's the family. All other things must be put aside. And there's always an excuse. Mr. Rant pointed out that this was going to be our first time eating cozido together as a family since the Grandmother died in December.

I know I'm supposed to be all sentimental about it but we have eaten a lot of meals together since her death. What's next, this is the first time we've gotten together for grilled cheese and beer since... No deal people! No excuses! No manipulating me with your skillful doe eyes and fast Portuguese. This girl has plans! We have plans with my friends! Not only that, but those plans include a lunch that is going to be of the Mexican persuasion made by someone of the Mexican persuasion.

And when I mentioned that we have plans I got the most awesome Mafia response humanly possible. Translated it was:

"Oh well. Saturday is better for the family." 

In that one line it basically says this: 


You will be at the lunch and you will be happy about it. There will be considerable shit talk and hard feelings if you aren't. Your Mother will be upset! We are your elders and will be dying in the next 30 to 40 years. You must spend as much time with us as humanly possible. By the way, we own you. 

I have debated standing up to this. I am actually considering saying no (although it should be noted that I already asked my friend if we can switch days). But to say no would but such an overwhelming task. For starters, I have to take on Mr. Rant. That one isn't too hard except he gets quite territorial and moody when it comes to family stuff. Lots of egg shells.

2nd would be my Mother-in-law followed thirdly by the aunts. This also means that it will be mentioned at the following 2 lunches that we did not attend the cozido, that it was a shame, and how disappointed Vava was.

4th, there's Vava. She is the sister of the late Grandmother who is visiting Rio for a couple of weeks.

Bitterly I wonder if this is something I should even try to do. I mean, we're talking about 1 skinny white girl against an entire culture.  "The Family" would not be pleased.

What would you do? 

Who Says You're the Black Sheep?!

The problem with self-proclaimed titles is that people usually don't agree with them.  I'd have to say that was the case this weekend.

The whole reason behind going to Buzios was to do a send off to the Grandmother who passed last December. She has essentially been potted in a beautiful pot below a lovely little bush. It's her spot in her garden where her lover of over 20s can go and talk to her. Him or anyone else who needs the ear of our lovely Grandmother.

Of course a couple of self-proclaimed black sheeps did not show up. They could not be bothered to go on a fully sponsored weekend trip to Buzios, transportation included. Oh yes, the fabulous Grandmother was so loved that we even had a sponsorship to send her off in style.

And when you consider yourself the "black sheeps" of the family, you obviously can't go. No no, that would require you to think about someone other than yourself. I'm sorry but my experience with so-called black sheeps is that they are usually Debbie Downers who spend too much time thinking about themselves.

Yes, family can be a bitch sometimes and no they will not agree with everything you do. Oh and let's not forget that most of them will also let you know they they don't agree. But this pretty much goes for everyone besides the self-proclaimed Golden child who wouldn't bother listening in the first place. Gold makes you hard  of hearing, it's just how it is.

Oh the charms of family.

Now, when you are repeatedly invited to the spreading of the ashes of the heart of the family, you go. If you really were the black sheep no one would call you. Did you not get the memo on what a black sheep really is?

This is especially annoying when the black sheep seem to attack the ones who love and care about them the most. Case in point, the passed Grandmother and her visiting sister, the tiavó (means Great Aunt but literally translates as Aunt-Grandma, which fits Brazilian family style much better.) These women are the head of the family! If we were Mafia, the passed Grandma could put a hit out on them from the grave. That's how high up she and her sister are!

So freaking hell, pull the stick out of your ass and pay respect to the elders! They are the ones who truly miss your presence, as we younger ones lack the understanding they have for your temperamental personalities.  We also lack the patience for these little games. We're grown-ups now. If you are going to pout and stay home, you are going to be the one missing out and no one is going to lose sleep over it.

And no, they didn't come. We youngsters were even holding out hope that they'd show up on their own. But no, they couldn't be bothered to show respect for a woman who took care of them, opened her home to them, many MANY times paid for them, and loved them more than they will ever love themselves. Hell, they couldn't even bother to show up and wish happy Mother's Day to the Mothers of their family.

Nope, these cousins dropped the ball big time and it left a stain in my book.

Then again, I'm not one to throw a pity party for the overly-sensitive. Just ask my family. Actually, maybe you shouldn't say anything to my family as they think I am the over-sensitive one. Definitely don't ask our self-proclaimed black sheep! He's still not talking to me because of the whole Christmas blog post.

Ah well, a family wouldn't be family without self-proclaimed titles. What's yours? You know you have one! 

Loving my Brazilian Family

My youngest and his Great-Grandparents

This weekend we have the spreading of the ashes of Mr. Rant's Grandmother. Even though she passed last December she has been in on our minds, especially this week.

I can't shake my thoughts of her and the family that surrounded her.

Given Mr. Rant's family and I have had our trials and tribulations. That, in fact, doesn't even begin to explain the Brazilian soap opera of the relationship we've had. Although I think all foreigners married to a Brazilian go through this feeling at one point or another.

But that is what my overly romanticized brain is circling. Regardless of my or their reactions, we remain a family. There is no silent treatment or overt smack-talking. You have your disagreements and your history.  It's a fact of life. That only makes the relationship stronger.

I have gone through hell and back with my husband's family. We have experienced events, such as Mr. Rant's near death experience, that most families never do. None-the-less, we are together.

In some blogs they may warn you about marrying a Brazilian. You are marrying their family. It's no lie. As one person told me, there's no such thing as an ex-Mother but there is an ex-wife.  I swear on my old collection of US Magazines, that was a true statement!

But there is an unsaid beauty to it. They are your family as well. If you are willing to own them as they own you, you will never face something alone. Ok, I can't say that but they will show up eventually and they will give you a force you never expected.

As I grow older I think of that damn cliché of a song, Wear Sunscreen.

Honestly, there's so much good advice there. At 30 it's like the rules of how to live. And Brazilians own it. They dance, they don't worry about their body (or if they do they still manage to enjoy the one they have), they know their parents, they keep their friends, and they love their siblings.

They also listen to the stories of their elders. My husband adores talking to his 93 year old Grandfather and taking pictures of him with his Great-Grandchildren. The Grandmother fills us in on their life stories and how to keep a marriage together. FYI: She says the key is having sex with them every time they want it. ?!

This connection between the ages and the interactions between all members of a diverse group of family are two of my favorite things about living in this country. I also feel it's the best thing I've given my children as a Mother. I have given them their history, a culture of a people, and stories to tell to their children. What else is there? 

American vs Brazilian: The Cross-Cultural Argument

Mr. Rant and I got into a battle yesterday. We both walked our 12 paces and positioned our opinionated guns.

His Position:

Not dangerous: Stopping by the side of a two lane road (that enters into a busy tunnel), even with kids in the back seat. The traffic at that point is slow, we were visible, and were far enough from the turn on.

Dangerous: Leaving his Father and Brother alone to talk to police officers that pulled them over.

My Position:

Not dangerous: Leaving your adult brother and Father to talk to two officers who pulled them over. It was broad daylight and on a busy street.

Dangerous: Stopping in a lane (no shoulder available) on a street with kids in the car. Unnecessary.

Back Story: My Father-in-law got pulled over while driving to the Feira São Cristovão. We were following him and my brother-in-law in our car. Mr. Rant stopped behind the police officer's car after he was pulled. I was not comfortable with this.  

There was no need to stop in a lane of traffic with both our kids in the car. Mr. Rant said that it was not a big deal as it was the on-ramp of sorts and that traffic was slow. More importantly, he needed to be there as a witness.

Here is where culture and where you were raised comes into play. I was raised with the idea that stopping on the shoulder, much less a lane, was never an ideal situation. Mr. Rant was raised in a city where bicyclists, people, cars, and whatnot are all over the roads. People are, in theory, more aware of random street movement or lack there of.

Mr. Rant was raised in a culture where police cannot be trusted. The more people involved in a minor or major traffic meeting with police the better. It's our words against theirs and more family there to back up the FIL shows that he was not actually stealing a car. For me, if you get pulled over by a cop on the road, you must have done something wrong. Talk to the officer, figure it out, and get your ticket.

I cannot mentally process how I was wrong in this situation but Mr. Rant insists that I was overreacting and that he should have stayed with his Father. He was nice enough to pull out and drive away when I insisted that it was not safe.

I disagree, it only would have taken one crazy-ass driving bastard to rare-end us. It's not like we lack them here. Yes, the speed is normally slow at that point in the road and people are aware of their surroundings, but again, one driver.

So the argument ended in a ceasefire. My Father-in-law was fine and so were we. No harm no foul. But really, this was a hard end for me to take. I am not comfortable with disagreeing on general safety rules. Then again, I pretty much disagree with the entire country on general safety rules so why is this one bothering me?!

Let's get 3rd parties involved. Who was right?

Blast from the Past: My Favorite Rants

Unfortunately I have the organizational skills of a prepubescent boy. I am sure you guys can all tell by the fabulous organization of my billions of blog posts.

So I figured that I'd be a total narcissistic and assume that you would like me to point out some of my favorite posts.

By the way, I have heard that when you assume you make an ass out of you and me. I guess that makes us all asses! At least I'm not alone.

Without further ado, some of my favorite rants (in no particular order):

Neurosis of Carioca

Are You Calling Me Fat and Other Handy tools

Yes I'm Writing About Penises

Great Grandmother

Breakdown of the Brazilian Family

The Brazilian Family Lunch

Coffee Realizations

Which ones are your favorite?

Children of Double Nationality: Which are you?

I have two boys with double nationalities. While being raised in Brazil, they are very familiar with the US for their ages. What I find interesting is with what country these dual children choose to relate to.

My 4 year old is Brazilian. That is what he says all the time. Of course he is also American and enjoys the comfort of that country, but he has a definite preference for yellow and green. He is all about the heat, beach, pool, and beans. He will tell you he prefers to be in Brazil but misses American houses, playgrounds, candy, and Target. 

I promise you, I have shown him more of the US than that. We have done museums, Disneyland, and many other fun "American" things. 

But the boy is Brazilian. It's what he relates to.  And I know most of you will say it's because he's being raised here.  

I wonder though because he has one little friend, who is being raised in Rio, that seems more British than Brazilian. While in the same one Brazilian parent and one British parent scenario, he seems very proud to say that he is, in fact, British. 

He also so charmingly states why they are better than Americans. Got to love those 4 year olds. 

I believe we have a bit of both nature and nurture here. Maybe the British are more patriotic than us Americans. Maybe that little boy and his family have more contact with the Motherland of the parents. 

I wonder though, who decides? The kids? The location? The influence of the parents? Or is it an all of the above situation? 

What's your take on it? 

Great Grandma Saves The Day

Homeopathy is on the rise as people are getting over the side effects of medical treatment. Here in Brazil, there are many homeopathic options.  Personally, I think the one I use is the best.

I call my husband's Grandma. After 7 kids this woman has a few secrets of her own. Hell, she even did home births before it was considered cool or dangerous or whatever you think of it. In her day, the baby came out of the vagina whenever and wherever it wanted.

So this is the woman I call when someone has a cough. It didn't start out that way of course. My oldest was about 10 months old when I was introduced to her syrup. She heard through the family gossip line, aka Grandma telepathy, and showed up at my house with some weird stuff in a jar.

It was her homemade cough syrup. All natural and with a base of honey, she said this was the cure all for cough, mucus, and allergies. I of course turned to my American ways and said that my child could not have honey yet, he'd obviously die. No honey before 2 years old!

I swear, they entire family almost disowned me for this. Everyone, EVERYONE, had been eating honey since birth. NO ONE had died, gotten that mysterious illness from it, nor had they ever taken another medicine for cough. This honey mixture was it.

I was finally worn down about a year later. I figured he was almost 2 anyway. And you know what, he took it without a problem. Honey seems to go down even easier than butter. And while I can not confirm if it was a coincidence or repeated use, but my son stopped have mucus/allergy issues a couple months later. A teaspoon a day and a lifetime of a difference.

Now my 2nd is dealing with the same thing and I've just called the Grandma for her secret syrup. She insisted on mixing it up with her own 87 yr old hands. I think that's wise. After 60 yrs of mixing, I'm pretty sure those hands know what they are doing.

And with that we start our own little Brazilian homeopathy experiment, honey syrup mix versus the doctor. Just call me crazy but something tells me that 87 yrs of life may beat out 7 yrs in medical school.

Stream of Consciousness Sunday

The Rules as told by Fadra: This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes only.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
• Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
• Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post.
• Link up your post below.
• Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

I've decided to finally join in on Fadra's stream of consciousness Sunday. A 5 minute open writing exercise similar to verbal vomiting but only in writing form.

I remember doing this is my creative writing class in high school. I would spend half my time doodling.

And here I am again. My youngest calling my name over and over again just to come look at his finger. That's my life, a serious of distractions that are too interesting to pass up. Of course I want to look at his finger. Goodness knows it's only an excuse to call my attention but who cares.

And I sit at this computer blabbing away while surrounded by far too much to do. An exciting/disastrous ladies night on Friday put me out on Saturday. The kiddos fever on the same day gave me the perfect excuse for dumping my responsibilities and just laying around with him.

This weekend has been just that, a realization of the imporantance of being there for one another. Talking to friends, giving attention to family, and seeing where each other are at.

We can get so caught up in our own lives that we don't even see what's happening to the people around us. We have no clue that there's something behind someone's smile.

But it all turns out ok, one way or another. For now, I'm going to try to clean up our daily messes that have accumulated over the past couple of days. That and get together my friend's clothes as ladies night turned into a fashion show. Let the world's strength be with me as I return everything. She has far more style than I do and I would so love all this stuff just to disappear into my closet! 

Oops I Missed a Rite of Passage

Photo by: http://sunfellowproductions.com/shaman-wedding-in-sedona.php

I didn't get my wedding. I have never danced in a white dress with my husband in front of our friends and family. Hell, when we married I hadn't even met his friends and family.

It was a true whirlwind and it's a great story.

But I find myself sometimes missing that rite of passage.  It's strange considering that I never really imagined my wedding as much as I imagined being married with children. I've never thought of colors or bridesmaids. Hell, picking out a maid of honor seems like a sure fire way to just piss people off.

Still, I find myself thinking about having my Father walk me down the isle. That is one part that I truly miss from the whole wedding fiasco. Call me a traditional girl, but I want my Daddy to give me away.

It does not help that I'm at 7 years of marriage and my Father is not getting any younger. I, however, am getting younger every year. It's amazing how that works out.

While Mr. Rant and I have always planned to have a spiritual wedding and reception, life has gotten in the way.  We have a mortgage and children, and it's not like we can expect my parents to shell out money for the costs. Hello, cow sold and bought here.

We are planning to have this wedding though. Apparently it's supposed to happen on our 10th anniversary. We made that plan on our 3rd when it seemed so far away.

Regardless, I'm holding onto the idea of a wedding on our 10th anniversary.  This is Brazil and it's ok to throw something together last minute, aka. 8 months or so before the event. Since the idea is to have it in the country, surrounded by nature, it shouldn't be an issue.

That's right, my husband is a retired Pagan and we will have our wedding in the woods.  Actually, he would like a Shamanic wedding. Since I've never had an actual had a plan for mine, I really shouldn't mind.  That's his theory anyway.  I may never have considered what mine would be like but, then again, I never imagined that I would get married circa Cowboys and Indians.

Honestly, I don't mind at all. I think it'll be one hell of an experience!

The thing I find funny is that I'm holding onto this tradition. After so many years of a successful marriage and partnership, I still feel the need to display it in front of our family and friends.  For the first time in my life I can imagine myself in "the dress" dancing with Mr. Rant in front of all our loved ones.

Where did that come from?! I blame hormones.

Then again, in a world where 50 % of the marriages fail, communication is being limited to 140 characters, and people buy spouses online, wouldn't it be nice to celebrate a couple that has made it this far?

With all our ups and downs, life lessons, and baby making I feel like showing off a little. We still love each other. We actually enjoy each others company. And we would like to sign up for more.

That and I would like for him to know how proud I am to be his wife.  Goodness knows that I haven't said it nearly enough in our marriage. Then again, can you?

Which rite of passage sticks with you the most, if any? 

I Got a Box!

A treasure was delivered to my place yesterday. A treasure full of Easter candy, American magazines, and knick knacks I forgot at my parent's house while visiting. 

I'm telling you, there's nothing better than receiving a box when you live abroad!  It's as if you revert to 8 years old again and it's Christmas. You may even know what's inside, but that doesn't matter. Seeing it with your own eyes is so much more amazing than anything you could imagine.  

And I am a very lucky expat. One thing my family have always done well is send me boxes. It goes doubly well now that I have the little ones. Jokes on them though, like I share with my kids!

Ok, I do but in little bits because sugar is not good for them. However, it's wonderful for Mom because it gives me spurts of energy that enables me to keep up. All I have to do is eat more when I hit my sugar low and BAM I'm up again. 

The metamorphosis that happens after the box is amazing.  Any free moment, I am found sitting in sweats, eating chocolates, and reading trash. I'm sure seeing what I could have been if we have stayed in the US is damn sexy for Mr. Rant . 

Anyway, the message is this: Do you know an expat? Is your second cousin's brother's daughter living abroad? Make a box. Fill it with random stuff. You could put in nail polish, lotions, candy, magazines, or a pack of chocolate chips. The list is endless.  

Pack it up and mail it over! You can't go too big or too small. It's not the size of the box but the speed of delivery that matters. 

So do yourself and expats all over the world a favor and send a little taste of home today. 

In Love With A Brazilian - Q & A

Question: My name is Sass, I am American and I am living in Brazil--my contact with Brazilians in the US and Brazilian culture is vast but over a year ago I fell hard for a guy, in a similar situation as you, unexepectedly and at a bar.  I had to leave the country in order to graduate and everything, and we swore to each other we would wait for each other.  He's from Rio Grande do Sul.  I moved back to Brazil on my toursit visa, but am living in São Paulo--we have decided that we do want to be together more than anything else, and are trying to resolve how to do this--we want to be married.  


I'm sure you know how hard it is for a foreigner to get married in Brazil, but we have 90 days to figure this out.  I am 23, and although I always said I would wait for a while to get married, I'm sure this is right-- I wanted to know: do you feel like you got married young?  You said your family was very supportive-- I'm sure mine will not be, they have high expectations of my and my career etc'--but how is it between you and your family, you being here in Brazil and them being in the States--how often do you see them, what sort of compromises are to be made.  and perhaps any other opinions, advice you could give me...

Have a wonderful day in the marvelous city, I dream of being on a beach right now.


Answer: This is a hard one, I will say. I did marry Mr. Rant at 23 years old and only knowing him 5 months (physically being with him for about 2.5 of those months).  My family was supportive. I don't know if they thought it would last but at least they didn't say they didn't. My husband's family was also supportive. That I find crazy seeing that they had never met me and knew that I didn't speak a word of their language.  Talk about having faith in the decisions of their son! 

In the end, this is your life. You make the decisions and you live with the consequences. Of course the beauty of a family is that they have a tendency to absorb a bit of the responsibility if they are supportive.  It is a bitch to get married in Brazil. If you did not get your US documents certified at the Brazilian consulate before you came, you have to get them translated and made official here.  That takes time and money. I know that you at least need your birth certificate and a document with your parents' names on it.  Then you'll need to go to the US consulate and get a little paper that says you are able to get married, ie. aren't already in the US. They give it to you the same day, which is nice. Once you get all your documents and manage to put them in to be processed at the Catorio (the government place that does this kind of thing), you have to wait 30 days with your name in this national paper. This is so anyone who knows something on you or is married to you can check and come tell on you. Like anyone reads it! Anyway, you may or may not have to pick up a copy of this paper and bring it to get married. I'm not sure, it's been 7 years since I did the whole process. 

Since you are young, and if you go back, you could get your University degree certified at the consulate and use that to try to get into a program in Brazil. Or, if you don't manage to get married in 90 days and your family freaks out, you could compromise by signing up for a study abroad in Brazil. 

I do not recommend doing what I did and coming down and teaching English right away. It's more likely you'll stick to that and not look into other options. Have a frank talk with your family, tell them you are getting married regardless, but ask for their support. With a little money you can get a great Portuguese tutor and work on your language skills. There are wonderful masters and PhD programs down her and I know many foreigners who have gone this route and now have successful careers.  

As for visits from my family, that only started when I had children. I went up there before that, partially because we could fly for cheap due to Mr. Rant's Aunt working for Varig. Now we try to go every year to 1.5 years. I doubt it'll happen this next year but that's ok. My parents also come once a year so we see each other quite often considering.  Grandkids are great ways to get Grandparents to travel. FYI - I recommend waiting AT LEAST 3 years before babies.  Get the rhythm of marriage first. 

As for me, I do feel I married young. I compromised a part of youth.  But if this is right, and he is a good partner, it is not a bad compromise. Just because you are married doesn't mean you become old.  On the other hand, it does mean that you have another person who's opinion you have to take into account when making your decisions. It stops being about what is right for you and becomes what is right for us. That in and of itself does make you grow up a bit.  Marriage takes a lot of patience, and one in which you haven't been dating in the tradition sense needs even more. Marrying and moving in together means you'll be really getting to know each other quickly. And I know you know him but until you live with someone, do you ever really know them?  So there will be some arguing but that is ok. It happens in relationships. And there will be miscommunication. Mr. Rant was fluent when we met and we still had some issues. Some things in Portuguese are not that offensive but they sure are when you translate them to English and vice versa! We'd have to stop and explain what the phrase the other person said meant to us and see if that was really what they were going for. Tough thing to do mid-battle.  

Overall, love is a powerful thing. Can get you through everything. Just be prepared, especially if you are going down this path sans the family, that there will be tough moments. But if life is just better with him in it, it'll never be that bad.  

Personally, I am very happy with my decision! I could not imagine my life ever being this full if I hadn't taken a jump into the unknown at such a young age. Nay sayers will be there regardless of the decisions you make. So put on some thick skin and choose what's best for you. Isn't that what growing up is all about? 

What would you all add? 

The Bacon Theory

I've had the bacon conversation with a couple of different people over the last couple of months. What's the bacon conversation?  Actually, it's more of a bacon theory. 

The theory goes as such: If a person in a family is bringing home the mouth feeding portion of the money each month (the bacon) you can not give them crap about working.  No, not "working" but that annoying stuff like answering business calls at 10pm when you are trying to get them to go "downtown." 

This theory is interesting and I find that Brazilians do not give their partners much crap at all about working a lot. Contrary to popular belief abroad, Brazilians put work horses to shame! Working until 830 or 9pm really isn't that big of a deal here, and I have a theory as to why. Shocker, huh.

There are numerous factors in this. First off, it's really not uncommon at all to have 2 income families down here. You are totally not going to bitch at your husband for answering that call if you were on the phone in the first place. 

There's also the Nanny/Maid situation. People have them. They are a buffer between overworking spouses and stay at home moms/dads.  Hell, they are the stand-in parent for the 2 income households.  And in the case of the Nanny/Maid, they can't complain to the bacon bringer. Hell, they are paid to wait around and cook the bacon that's brought.  

And that fact that there is someone in the middle, who's job is to pick up the slack, makes a huge difference.  The biggest complain of this stay at home Mom is the lack of buffering. I can get pretty chafed sometimes and it's not pretty! 

Of course, that's only with my minis as I do have a maid twice a week to help me around the house.  It's a good thing for Mr. Rant. He sure as hell would get a lot more crap for his socks being littered around the entire apartment.  He denies it but it's either him or we have a serious sock-mold situation growing in this place. 

The point being, it can be hard to be a supportive partner for a busy spouse. It can be upsetting to see the kiddos little faces pressed on the window as they look for Daddy on the street because they know he's going to be home before bedtime.  

And when they complain, I open sacks of bacon and throw pieces at the ungrateful little bastards. Actually no, that would be cruel. Good bacon is far too expensive in Brazil to be wasting it like that. 

But we have had the talk that everything costs money and the reason Daddy works so hard is to help pay for things like food, soccer practice, and cable tv. Priorities. And they get it. The chatter box even offered to not have snacks for a week if Daddy could come home early. 

Then when I put them to bed after a day that had, I swear, 321 hours in it, I go out to the living room. I sit down and I have the same conversation with myself using wine, internet connection, and staying home with my babies as my examples. 

Freaking Bacon, always expanding our minds. 

The Nanny Culture

I live in a Nanny culture. Middle and upper class Brazilians are very accustomed to having this extra help. Much of the time, the nanny is the full time maid who babysits when it's needed. Let's be honest, how much work does a maid have in an apartment that's smaller than a McDonalds.

What kills me are the weekend Nannies! Since I'm not super opinionated, just a smidgen, I'll give license to the parents who do hang with the kids on the weekends and just bring the nanny with them for an extra hand. Hell, I'd love that for myself!

What gets me are the weekend nannies hanging around sans parents.  I'm not talking occasionally either. I can name at least 4 little kids at from neighborhood park who cruise Nanny-style every weekend.

I got the opportunity to chat with one of these weekend nannies one day at the park. You see, I already knew the children and the weekday nanny from said park and chatting started as the kids played.  I finally got up the nerve to ask where the parents where. I mean, it was 10 am on a Saturday!

I was very seriously informed that 'both parents are very important doctors. They work very hard.'

I see. Doctors are on-call normally. It's a stressful job. I totally get it.

That's when she added, 'so they need their rest during the weekend.'

What?

Apparently they did not work weekends nor were they ever really on-call.  But they worked hard all week so they preferred to have a drink on Friday and sleep in/rest on Saturdays.

Did they not get the memo that you need the sleep deprivation patch in order to be considered honorary parents?

And it doesn't stop even close to there. I actually had a student, the one who offered me a job, tell me that I needed to go after a career for myself. He was worried about me.  Plus his children were raised by nannies and turned out just fine.

Fair enough, but here's the thing, I did not have children to hire someone to raise them! I get daycare. I get needing to make a living. I TOTALLY get needing a night out every week.  But to have someone literally raise your children? No, you do not get to have your cake and eat it too!

Before you get me wrong, my outrage isn't because I don't get the sleep/freedom/free time.  It's not even because I think the kids are not being raised right. You get yourself a good nanny down here and she's capable of schooling any mother upside down and sideways.  It's the family, the life, and love that both parents and kids are missing out on.

I highly believe that half the parenting happens while soothing a sick child as they vomit on you. I think you bond as you play soccer or tell them NO.  We grow up together, the kids absorbing the little cool the parents have left and the parents becoming warn down grandparents with stories to tell.

It's not easy being a parent and I can see how these new ones with nannies get sucked into handing the baby over to "better" care. I can't even tell you how many times I've seen a nanny take a small baby out of Mommy's hands because baby is fussing. Honestly, the reason I don't have one is because she would have been bitch slapped at that exact moment and I would have been sued.

All this being said, I know a countless number of families who have the help and are just as involved as I am. Of course they have washed hair, manicured nails, and can afford fat pants instead of dieting.

And to top it all off with a generalized cherry, I was once told that I don't like help because I'm too American. We Americans are overly accustomed to doing things ourselves and can't manage to delegate tasks to the help.

Well, that sounds a hell of a lot better than my being annoyed by sharing my 2 foot box called an apartment with yet another person because THIS American is used to homes with space!

Personally, it comes down to wanting to do it myself with my boys. I want to be the one running around with them.  Plus, I feel lost with absolutely no housework. I don't think it's good that my attention is only on the kids and the kids have no chores themselves.  That being said, I feel a maid twice a week does no harm at all. And you know what, you can't convince me otherwise!