SOC: Carnaval can be ANNOYING

Carnaval season has arrived in Rio de Janeiro. While this used to be a fun event, I feel that it is a little out of control. Yesterday, 2 weeks or so before the actual start of Carnaval, there were 21 blocos (street parties). 21! And with the use of social media such as Facebook and Twitter, these blocos are not the small-ish neighborhood parties they used to be.

We are talking full on parties. Traffic stopped, loud music, government installed port-o-potties. It starts the calendar checking phase. During the weekends (and Thursdays and Fridays) I will be checking the Globo bloco calender. I will be checking where and when blocos are happening so that the boys and I don't end up getting stuck somewhere in the city. 

This kind of thing used to be fun. Mr Rant and I would randomly run into a bloco while out and join in. That or, since we were normally on foot or mass transit, work our way around it. Now with two kids in car seats waiting in a hot car, it sucks. Not only that, it's quite freaky to get stuck on foot in a bloco while trying to walk home from the grocery store. You don't understand, these blocos stop time wherever they are happening. 

And while I know it is all in good fun, it's sometimes too much. When living on Rua das Laranjeiras we had blocos every weekend preceding Carnaval and every day during Carnaval. 

Thankfully Mr. Rant will be returning from his snowboarding trip before the real festivities begin and we will be able to escape to the countryside. Until then, I will be spending these husbandless weekends first checking to make sure we can get out of the house and back without having to samba our way home.

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.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 .Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

SOC: Attack of the Tourists

I can appreciate tourists. I really can. Hell, I used to be one. The thing is that they are taking over my city.

Seriously, there are too many tourists in Rio de Janeiro. It is enough to make this local go crazy. Today we went to one of my favorite fairs, the Hippie fair in Ipanema. I could hardly walk down the isles!

While I understand that we are in peak season, I have spent many summers here before. This year is far worse than the rest. My worst fears are being realized, Brazil is the new Europe. Backpackers from around the world are coming to stay in our new hostels and drink beers on our beautiful beaches. They are upping the prices of crap goods as, with the exchange rate, the price isn't bad. FYI, you should have seen the price 3 years ago.

You should all see the amount of half burnt people walking around this city. I don't know what it is about tourists in Rio de Janeiro but they never seem to give the sun the credit it deserves. That and they never remember to flip. The front half of their body looks like a second cousin of a cooked lobster and the back the brother of Casper.

And these freaky breeds of Casper and Lobster are taking over this city. With their Tevas protecting their feet and their money distributed over the 37 pockets in their cargo shorts, tourists can now be found in every single neighborhood at any given time.

If it's this bad now, just imagine during either one of the approaching games. Even as a lover of the normally chaotic streets of Rio de Janeiro, all this is enough to make me want to flee back to my Motherland in 2014 and 2016. It is food for thought. One could make a pretty penny renting our their apartment for ridiculously high tourist rates... Who am I kidding? We all know I'll be staying here and using it as Ranting ammo. 

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.
• 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.
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Stream of Consciousness Sunday: Goodbye

There is a sickly ironic part to suicide where the person who committed it felt alone while the people who lose them feel a drastic loss of company. It is like a fatal miscommunication caused by humans' naturally faulty wiring. We neglect to vulnerably show how important people are to us and sometimes people refuse to hear it even when we do.

The worst part for me is imagining someone dying sad, alone and feeling helpless. It breaks my heart that they felt that it was impossible for things to get fixed. Certainly we can feel that in life, but when you lose someone over it... well then nothing is impossible to fix. I guess that is why there is all that talk about retrospect and it being 20/20.

And I stop myself when I feel that urge to exclaim things like: Why didn't they reach out for help? Why didn't they tell us that they felt like that? Why didn't someone do something?

The thing is, we are in charge of where we are and where we are going. That is a scary reality if you really think about it. There is a safety in following some sort of path, even if you are following someone else. When you reach the point of sadness where you feel the full depths of it, there is no path to follow. It is you and you feel the weight of knowing that in the end it is you and you alone who has to live your life. No matter who is holding your hand when you go, they are not going with you.

Regardless, it seems unnatural for someone to not be comforted into passing. Having them ripped out of our lives leaves a gaping hole.

Hearing about a friend's death today did just that. I can only imagine how his family and close friends feel. I only wish I had the relationship with him where he felt he could have called me. I wish someone had been close enough for him to say 'I think I may do something permanent.' I can say, without a doubt, that any of our mutual friends would come over immediately, held his hand, and sat with him until that horrible night passed. Suicides bring a lot of 'if only' s that way.

No event is ever going to be the same without his bright smile. I know that sounds like a cliche thing to say but you didn't know this man's smile.

Rest in Peace our friend. You will be missed.

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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.
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Hoarder's Anonymous

We are preparing for our move to the smaller apartment. I'm really excited about living there, just not about getting all our crap out of here.

So now I have a math equation for you:

If a woman has managed to fit 400 square meters of utter crap into a 130 square meter apartment, how does she then manage to pack and contain all that in an 80 square metered apartment?

The Answer:

Throw crap out! We are having a cleaning, hoarder's anonymous, purging of the home all week long. This will be the time where I will open the junk draw and actually be honest with myself. There will never be a moment where I will really wish that I had kept the finger flashlights or those broken crayons. I am not going to miss the wrinkled pizza restaurant slips nor is there an actual emotional attachment to the ticket stubs from some bad random movie.

This stuff is going into... gasp... the recycling bin.

Now don't get too scared for me. I have already sent a Tupperware, large enough to fit Mr. Rant, full of his crap to the in-law's house. As they were the ones to encourage his collecting of CDs and comic books, they can house them.

It's 80 some odd square meters of living space which means there is only about 20 left for actual stuff.

And this isn't the real challenge. The real challenge will be me keeping that little place organized and free of clutter. I'm going to be honest, I am horribly lazy when it comes to organizing crap. I just can't be bothered, and I'm even a Virgo. So stuff that in your face astrologers. I prefer living in organized chaos.

But in the best interest of my children, I am going to reform.

So here goes the first week of the rest of my life cleaning up and organizing my crap. Maybe you should be scared for me...


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.
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Stream of Consciousness Sunday: The Sleepover

Nothing shows you the difference in parenting other people have like keeping their children for a sleepover.

This weekend we have been the lucky keepers of Little Princess. Little Princess comes from a co-sleeping household. The only co-sleeping my kids get at this point is that period of time between them sneaking into my bed and the first time they kick me in their sleep.

I set up a bed in my boys' room. All three kids sleeping in one room means there was no way she could  get lonely, right? Wrong.

The first "Rachel!" in the middle of the night was greeted with immediate cuddles until she fell back into Little Princess dreamland.

The second "Rachel!" was met with confusion as just 20 minutes before I had soothed her to sleep with my mad parenting skills.

A third and forth Rachel...

The fifth one was met with my normal middle of the night Mommy. "What do you need sweetie?"

She turned to me and said "Rachel, I just can't do this. I can't sleep this long. I have been sleeping forever."

It was 3am. There was far too much sanity and 4 yr old logic coming at me for that early in the morning.

I gave in and laid with her on the twin mattress, again, but this time to stay. She let out the cutest little sigh, patted my arm and went to sleep.

The force is strong in that one.
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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.
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Stream of Consciousness Sunday: Left Out

I got in a text message argument with a friend today. She hurt my feelings. It started out as all stupid girl arguments do, Facebook. She mass tagged a bunch of girls (half of whom I know and one who is a very good friend of both of us) and did not tag me. She was inviting them all to her place for drinks and then suggested they go out to a concert.

Here comes the messages. I thanked her for the invite. She replied that it was Brazilian music so she didn't think I'd like it. Then added that she called me and I didn't answer (once at like 2 in the afternoon). Finally after I replied with the ever mature "whatever" she stated that she knew I was sick anyway.

I am continuing the maturity by venting about it on my blog. Seriously though, it did hurt my feelings. For starters, if it were only about me being sick that would have been her first answer AND I would have been tagged in the post. I was purely not invited.

The other thing is that she is supposed to be one of my best friends in Rio de Janeiro. I answer her calls when she needs someone to lament to. I reassure her when she feels like we aren't as close as we were. I tell her that "No, my Mommy friends are not replacing her."

You know what, maybe they will because obviously I am not Brazilian nor free enough to go get wasted at your place and stay out until dawn. Yes, I have kids. Yes I am an exhausted Mother. Lastly I was too sick to go out. But we all know an invitation or calling back just for once is really nice. That goes double when I make so much effort to make sure she feels included or loved because she, in particular, needs shit like that. Hey, that's what friends are for, right?

Anyway, she was the last person I thought would make me feel like a rejected 15 yr old. I know I should be above it but I'm only human. I'm a tired and beat down Mother. We have a tendency to get sensitive sometimes. That's why it was doubly nice of her to call me an ass.

I suppose we all know where we stand now.
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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.
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Stream of Consciousness Sunday: FOOOOOOD!

I actually get excited to eat here in Rio de Janeiro. I'm not talking about fancy or exotic food. I like the regular old Brazilian meal.

Today we went out for lunch with some friends. We got a mix platter so that we would have to decide between yummy meat, delicious chicken, chicken hearts, or anything else for that matter.

Here comes the food: rice, farofa, the salsa mixture that I ADORE but can never remember what it is called, chicken hearts, squares of fried cheese, chicken, and meat. My bloated belly is brewing gas as we speak.

But if you think about it, minus the lack of vegetables, it's a damn good meal. It's real food! This was a meal my Grandmother would call a meal, if you know what I mean.

And that is what I love about eating here. You go to someone's house or out for lunch you aren't going to get some fru fru crap. Oh no, Brazilians eat real hearty food! There are flavors, a hell of a lot more garlic than we are used to, and plenty of salt.

I for one am a happy camper. That reminds me, I need to go buy some garlic...

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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.
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Web MD Gave Me Cancer

Photo by: http://cellaphonic.blogspot.com/2010/12/tale-of-giant-hive-monster.html

I worry about my health in a way I never did when I didn't have kids. It's as if I am overly aware of my own mortality. I can't help it.

The idea of something happening to me while my kids are small is my biggest fear! I get choked up just thinking about it. Losing your Mommy at any age is difficult. That and I selfishly want to be here forever just to see every single moment in their little lives.

So all this is making me a bit of a hypochondriac. I'm exhausted beyond belief, as any Mother is, and part of me starts to wonder if I have cancer. I take longer to get over illnesses, I have heart palpitations, and I get winded easily. Of course this can all be easily explained:

Longer to get over illnesses: I hardly ever sleep and eating right is a day by day battle. That and I am getting older plus have two kids and a husband whose needs normally come first.

Heart Palpitations: Well if I am getting myself all stressed out about cancer than my anxiety level may be a bit high.

Winded easily: This one is simply called a lack of cardio. I used to be in such good shape. Key there: Used to be! Of course I could nip that in the butt with a little effort but the whole exhausted thing along with the family thing gives lack of motivation an unfair advantage over motivation.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not that person that sits on the computer looking over Web MD all day. I keep it occasional as dying from a heart attack in front of the computer while reading about heart attacks is just way to cliche for this girl.

Do any of you other Mothers ever think about this stuff? Do you ever wonder if your lack of self care is going to bite you and your family in the ass? Are you particularly good at taking care of everything and yourself? If so, got any tips? 

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.
Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

Stream of Consciousness Sunday: Fuzzie Moments

I had a moment when I was standing with my boys at the cake table last night at Chatterbox's birthday party. We were waiting for Mr. Rant to finish rounding people up and sending them over so we could sing "Parabens" (Happy Birthday) in full Brazilian style.

I stood there looking at all the faces and cameras. I thought of all the good madness of the couple hours before. I then looked at the row of excited kid faces at the front of the cake table. Both my boys were standing there sweaty, exhausted, covered in sugar of all kind, and happier than hell. 

This is exactly the type of childhood I wanted for my children and I didn't even know it. I felt so lucky to surrounded by awesome people all there to celebrate my son's life, as well as eat some of the DAMN GOOD food we were serving. 

So when the singing started and the smiles broadened, I was on cloud nine. That's when more warm fuzzies hit. Once the Portuguese singing stopped a goof friend's super cool husband (who earned total brownie points) starting singing Happy Birthday in English! And since it is pretty much the most uninspired and simple song in the history of the universe, everyone there knew it too. The entire group, foreigners and a hell of a lot of Brazilians sang Happy Birthday to my little man in his other language. 

I suppose my little man can have it all after all! 

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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.

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Stream of Consciousness Sunday: SOLD!

I'm off to sign papers for my apartment. Yes people, it has been sold. Not only am I going to go sign them, I am going alone! At first it was just a big inconvenience. I was put out by doing serious stuff on Sunday. Hell, I live in Rio de Janeiro! We don't do anything but drink beer and eat meat on Sunday.

That was when my husband tried to get me out of it by saying I was nervous. I got super annoyed! I told him to not tell them that! I mean, what the hell?! They already only want to talk to the penis of the house, I'm totally screwed now. Then he pointed out that I should be nervous.

What?

Apparently I'm not just swinging by to sign a thing saying we will sell to them. No no, I am signing the documents selling the apartment. They are full legal documents with numbers and legal words and is in Portuguese.

That does slide me over to the nervous side a bit...

Of course I will bring the contract back for Mr. Rant to sign. Double of course is the fact that they understood that Mr. Rant couldn't come because the Botafogo vs Flamengo is on at that time... right now actually.

Crap, I'm already late! Hell, I live in Rio de Janeiro and it's Sunday...

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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.
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Stream of Consciousness Sunday

I am really saddened by the Santa Teresa Bonde accident. For those who don't know, we have a trolley (bonde) in Rio that goes up to the artistic neighborhood of Santa Teresa. It was overloaded with passengers yesterday and crashed. The breaks went out for 20 meters and then the thing went flying.

I just keep thinking about the people who got on it. Some of them were probably going home, some just going on a ride on the trolley, others going up to Santa Teresa for lunch, and the tourists were striking another must-see item off of their Rio de Janeiro list.

Then I start to think doubly about the tourists. They are just here checking out the city. They don't have anyone to come visit them at the hospital and, quite possibly, hardly speak Portuguese.  Waking up in a hospital at home is scary, now imagine waking up in serious condition in a Brazilian public hospital!

My thoughts to everyone who was on the trolley and their families.

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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. 
• 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.
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• Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

Stream of Consciousness Sunday: Cute Doctor

Doctors should not be allowed to be cute nor charming. I think this should go doubly for urgent care doctors.

You see, I dragged my sorry ass into the urgent care yesterday morning. I was full on crusty sick. I had crusty eyes, sinus infection breath (even though I brushed my teeth twice and used mouthwash), and smelled of night sweats. It was nothing an attractive man should have to see.

Of course I get there and get called in by a very cute man. He could have totally been a Cutie for your Tuesday. I thought FAIL! Then he starts talking to me and smiling and it turns out he is also charming. If I had more pride I would have turned around and walked away. Let the sinus infection heal itself. But I have no pride so I stayed and let himself do his job.

Because it is their job. They see nasty sick people all the time, right? Of course it hurts a lot more when a cute doctor asks if your ear itches, because apparently there is a decent amount of wax inside, than when a 70 yr old mothball smelling doctor says it.

But I did feel shitty enough to just shrug at it. I don't know why I would care in the first place, except I do think I was a Jewish Mother in a past lifetime because I just love me a cute doctor.

Anyway, I got my gnarly sinus infection diagnosis, which is awesome, and my antibiotic prescription. Note to self though, if I ever become single I am showering before heading to the urgent care. You just never know...

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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.
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Stream of Consciousness Sunday: Hangover

I'm slightly hungover today. You know that half hangover that makes it impossible to ignore life and stay in bed all day and yet you still walk around slightly nauseous. I'm so not in my 20s anymore!

In my 20s my hangover cure was a late night burrito and then the half I didn't finish for breakfast the next morning. I never said I was a classy girl people. Btw, I always ate it straight from the fridge cold. SO good! Right up there with cold KFC extra Crispy.

Anyway, I never had hangovers the next day. Then again, I could still get a full 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep.

But there is something to say about letting lose and having a couple or 5 glasses of wine. If I'm there and there's music, then spontaneous dancing is always involved. Of course I move just as you imagine, like a drunk monkey who was dropped on her head about 3 too many times as a baby. Personally, I think I make it look charming and no one can convince me otherwise. I have very strong coping methods that way.

There will also be over-sharing, drunken smoking of cigarettes, and a 1 glass too many. Last night I did myself proud, it was only a half glass. This girl is learning some self control baby!

In my defense though, before you all write me off as a drunken party girl, my life revolves around discussing coloring and occasionally cleaning poop off the floor. There's also dishes and laundry that never seem to stop getting dirty as well as serving people as an indentured servant. I know I make Motherhood sound glamorous but there is a pure pleasure in letting lose with good company.

That's what I did last night so this slight nausea doesn't bother me too much.
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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.
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Stream of Consciousness Sunday: Bilingual Children

My 4 yr old, the Chatterbox, has declared his love for the Portuguese language. I initially thought that it was a good thing seeing that he had left his "native" language and has favored English since 3.

Well times are a changing because he also declared that he does not want to speak English anymore. It was adorable to see him assert himself like that. But like a true Mother looking out for his best interest, I became the first woman to stomp on his dreams.

At least I was kind enough to explain. I told him that he would forget his English. I reminded him that Grandma and Poppi, as well as Uncles Pat, Terry, and Jeremy do not speak Portuguese. He relented but was positive that he would not forget English. It is such a simple language. I think all my past English students felt a tickle up their spines at that very moment.

His reasoning was that Portuguese has MUCH better words! It is so much more fun to speak in Portuguese. I really can appreciate that. Portuguese is a very colorful language. I'm also glad that him and his Brother won't have my late in life experience in learning this "colorful" language. You see, Portuguese has a lot of great words, conjugations, and expressions. It is especially fun to talk shit with. Of course, to learn it in your 20s makes it less fun and more of a bitch.

Actually, more like being bitch slapped by some evil bitch. Yes, that was my first impression of the language. Thankfully we have gotten to know each other better, gone out for a couple of drinks, enjoyed a few bases, and now are on speaking terms.

Of course, we must remember, this is Portuguese. That Ho could turn on me at any moment! I'm starting to understand why Chatterbox is throwing her a bone.
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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.

Stream of Consciousness Sunday: Weight

Today I read Fadra's Stream of Conscientiousness post and it hit a cord. It was about feeling fat, gaining weight, and what that means to us individually. Actually, she felt the need to defend her fatness.

In her defense she is petite and gaining 10 pounds to her is one thing, to me it's another. I am not petite. I am quite tall as a matter of fact. I can gain 10 pounds gracefully to all those around me. To me I see it in my ass, stomach, and everywhere else we women see our weight gain.

But that isn't my point. My point is that I am 20 pounds over my "ideal" weight. That translates to my pre-babies weight. I put a lot of weight on with both boys and can't naturally return to the weight of my early 20s without a rigorous diet and exercise.

I actually tried to do those two thing. I even kept a food diary. I felt the need to be what I was. The thing is, I'm nowhere close to what I was physically, mentally, or emotionally. Why should my weight be the same thing?

For me it came down to what is attractive. I thought I was more attractive before. I mean, someone once told me I was model sexy. Of course a close friend also told me I was near scary skinny. I guess perception is a big key.

Something simple happened though one evening with friends. I ran into an old Brazilian friend who I used to hang out with pre-kiddos. I made a comment about the changed body. She replied without thinking "You had no body then." Of course she back peddled and I stopped her. I didn't have a body. I was a hanger for clothing.

I am skinny. It's the genetic gene pool that I am swimming in. I will never fill in a cleavage shirt. I can't pull off booty shorts as no matter what weight I gain I have no freaking booty. And I will always be taller than half of the Brazilian male population that is older than me. There just isn't much I can do about that.

Here's the thing though, I don't care anymore. At this point, I almost feel sorry for the younger group. You see, when you get past 30s and meet a slightly (slightly) more mature crowd, body starts to even out with other qualities. That and womanliness isn't such a bad thing.

So for now I will enjoy my more open hips, fuller legs, and softer stomach. I look like a healthy woman who has brought life into this world. Call me an old lady romantic but I can't think of anything sexier! If you can, thank goodness you aren't the person I'm sharing my bed with!
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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.
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Motherhood?: Stream of Consciousness Sunday

You know, I'm not one to blog all the time about being a Mom. I try to keep this blog my place away from Motherhood. It's not that I don't love every minute of it because I do. It's just that it can be emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausting. Even Moms need a break.

I felt that way this weekend but not because of my kids. It was all circumstantial. Things just went downhill from the cancellation of my kids going to my in-laws (random decision by Mr. Rant and I) to my husband getting stuck in São Paulo and me having to take the kids to the blogger meet up. 

Funny enough, none of that was a big deal. The deal was that I was feeling my role a little too much. The thing about being a Stay at Home Mom and wife is that your needs (the fun frivolous ones) get pushed to the bottom. Your daily job is take care of the needs of others, frivolous or not. It's a hard role not to get sucked into.

I am lucky that I get to stay at home with my kids. I love being the one taking care of them. I also love being able to take care of Mr. Rant after a long day at work. I think it makes a huge difference to have someone home full time. 

I have moment though with the whole Mother identity. I have my days that I just want to be Rachel, not the go to guy of the house. 

Sometimes Just Rachel would be pretty damn nice. 

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.
• Publish it
• Link back to Fadra

Stream of Consciousness Sunday: Pepperoncinis

I was given pepperoncinis this week. I know something that simple should not be a big deal but let me explain.

These pepperoncinis had to travel to get to me. They originated in Greece and were imported to Finland. From Finland they entered into a backpack of a friend of a friend who illegally flew them into another country. Thank goodness for lazy TSA agents, people who understand which rules really should be broken, and Greek farmers.

I now have a small tupperwear in my fridge with these green peppers of goodness. I am temped to put them on anything and everything. It's almost as if they have induced pepperoncinis pregnancy type cravings. I'm tempted to even try them on my ice cream.

It's pretty sad.

But it has been the first time in years that I have had a decent one. Their spicy goodness add life to my routine of salty rice and beans. And while I'm sure they are sold in some hidden spot here in Rio de Janeiro, I have yet to find them myself.

I imagine some stand in a back alley with illegal watches, knock off purses, and a pile of pepperoncinis.

One day I will find this man, befriend him, and buy his entire stock.  I will consume so much that Rio de Janeiro will smell of my spicy gas. It's only a matter of time.

The Rules for Stream of Consciousness Sunday:

• 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.

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!