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! 

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? 

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?

RECIPE: Grandma's Homemade Cough Syrup

Vovó Zilca meeting my youngest and her 5th great-grandchild

So Grandma was nice enough to share her cough syrup recipe with me and now I will share it with you.  Look at how efficiently this train of information works! You ask, I deliver.

Diabetics beware! This is an old school recipe. That means that it comes with a lot of sugar! I'm just happy it doesn't have something crazy like whiskey in it.

What you need:

2 Cups Sugar
1/2 cup water
Well washed leaves from 1 stem of Ruta graveolens (also called common Rue)
2 tablespoons of bee honey (I don't know of any other kind of honey but since she specified...)

How to Make it:

• You first need to caramelize the sugar in pot on the stove. Be careful not to burn it! It can not be burnt! 
• Once nice and caramelized, add 1/2 cup of water. Mix well over low heat.
• Now is the tricky part. Take the leaves and mash them into the caramelized sugar and water mixture. We are talking serious mashing. I don't know how the woman does it but you can't see any leaf in there when she's done. 
• Let cool a little
• Add in the 2 tablespoons of honey and mix well

And there you have it! Something tells me that it's not as easy as it seems. The stuff is the perfect consistency. It's amazing. Then again, after making a few thousand batches I bet it becomes second nature.

Finally, put it in a glass jar and this bad boy will last you for a while. Here's a picture to see what my fresh batch from Grandma's kitchen looks like:

Disclaimer: I have never actually made it. It would be a bitch slap to the Grandmother's face if I didn't call her and request it. She has called me twice since this morning to discuss the syrup.  When it was finished she said that she would find a way to get it to me tonight. Since it was late and raining, she did not expect me to come over with the boys. I told her I would be there first thing in the morning. 

A half hour later she called back. She told me she loved making the syrup for her great-grandson and that I was to call her for anything and everything I need.  

Then asked to talk to my husband. 

She told him was sending his cousin to bring the syrup so that my youngest could start taking it first thing in the morning. 

Sweet and stubborn, just like I like my Grandmothers-in-law! 

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.

End of an Era

I've gotten to the point in my expat life that I can not be in one place without missing the ways and people of the other. My little cross to bear in a pretty damn good life.

This year was a little different. The joy of being home with my family wasn't quite enough to cover the loss  that occurred back home in Rio de Janeiro.

The Great Grandmother, who I wrote about here, lost her battle with life.  Maybe, it was more like life lost it's battle with her.  Regardless, she lived this life with flair and a wisdom of a woman experienced with many things none of us young folk could understand.  I hope that when I go, I will have managed half the life she did.

Anyway, we lost her last week and my poor husband didn't get to go to her funeral.  We skyped his parents on Christmas eve.  The celebrating in my parents house was loud but the lack of celebrating in theirs was louder.

I wish he could have been there, that all of could have come and been a support.  At the same time, I am glad my children had a Christmas of joy and that Mr. Rant's family didn't have to put a fake smile on for the kids.  Because, let's be honest, the first Christmas after is... well, it's just that.  The first Christmas after.

This goes 100 x more in this case, as the Great Grandmother was the Godfather of the family. She ruled Christmas like Queen Elizabeth does Prince Charles. Every year we celebrated the sacred Christmas Eve night at her place.

Not this Christmas, and I doubt think we will again. After years and years of that tradition, I'm guessing thing will now shift.  At the very least, we will all be together and we'll do what families do best, create new ones.

But one thing will never change:

We MISS you Vovo Nice! We will always miss you!

Coffee: The Key to the Brazilian Heart

It was very serious going into the ICU to visit the Grandma. We all had to wash our hands and turn off our cell phone. 

And then we didn´t even get offered a coffee! 

Coffee?  In an ICU? Well, they had just taking the incubation tube out of the Grandma´s throat.  She needed something to sooth it. 

It was the last confirmation I needed to show that coffee is the center of the Brazilian life.  I would never have thought that a doctor would allow a patient in the ICU to have a cup of the good stuff. 

But now that I think about it, what´s the harm in it?

And that´s the thing.  I think coffee is to adult Brazilians as a warm breast is to a baby.  It´s comfort, home, and the only way to pass a decent stool after eating all that rice. 

You have it for a snack, you have it after lunch, and the day doesn´t begin without it´s presence.

Why wouldn´t you have it at the hospital?

So if that´s how things work, please note that if I should ever end up in there, I want Pop Tarts and licorice.

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!

Mother's day or Grandmother's day or Great-Grandmother's day... who will win?

I had a very interesting day today.  For starters, I woke up thinking that I was actually queen of the world and not just someones wife and mother.  My poor husband and kids. It was all peaches and roses the first couple hours and then I threw my first fit.

The house was trashed. TRASHED. It looked like I had moved out and 3 men lived in it.  3 grown drunk men who like playing with toys and wore really small underwear. 

It pissed me off.  Should it have? Not really. Does it matter so much?  Not so much. Did it matter to me? Hell to the yeah it did.  It bothered me, big time.  I felt that my husband should have been on it knowing that it would bother me and it was my day.

So here's a side story. I'm married to a seriously amazing man.  He may not notice much when he's home, like a super large pile of dishes or a bunch of his socks or underwear on the floor, but he's a good man. Hell, he's in making a canoe for my oldest's class.  Long story short, we have parental homework sometimes.  Good school though so I'll let that slide.

So I throw my fit, we all calmed down, and we all cleaned up.  Next we had to go to my husband's Grandma's house for lunch. I didn't want to go. I didn't want to have to share my day. We all already know I was being a ginormous baby today and I didn't want to share.  We go.

Disaster. My youngest wouldn't nap. If he doesn't nap he doesn't sleep at night. I need him to sleep at night!  Everyone is yelling and talking super loud. The apartment is 2 feet by 2 feet for heaven's sake. We can hear the Grandma fart in the kitchen. There is no need to yell. But there is yelling because everyone is Brazilian and they can't, by genetic makeup, speak softly.

I give up on the nap and try to eat lunch. The kids were being impossible. Everyone was annoying me (remember, big baby syndrome) and fit two was had. 

In my defense, it was during my 2nd nap attempt and my husband and mother-in-law let my 3 yr old in to lay down.  It seems that I'm the only one who knows my 3 yr old.  He always does this.  He comes it to check it out, gets over it, and loudly states that he wants to leave. Wants to leave! WANTS TO LEAVE!

So I pulled my husband into the room, told him I was done and that we were leaving!  He is such a trooper and said ok.  You must know that this is very faux pas here in Brazil. You don't leave before the coffee. And once you say you are going to leave you actually stay another 40 minutes chatting.

We didn't.  Needless to say, not the favorite of the family right now.  This is what makes me miss my family in the US of A.  I could just say, look I'm a cranky sack today. My kids are being difficult. We're just ready to go.  And it wouldn't be a big deal.

Oh well.  Can't win them all. My littlest napped and was good and happy for round two at the other Grandma's house. We ate waffles.  Fun was had by all.  I don't think I'm going to win daughter-in-law of the year from my mother-in-law.  Then again, I could poop gold and I still wouldn't. Even if I shared.