E aí eu acreditei! And then I believed...

Eu não sou religiosa. Acredito em Deus,  respeito todas as religiões, mas prefiro nao ser "catequizada". Não gosto que as pessoas tentem me converter a suas crenças, por mais que elas acreditem que essa seja a minha única salvação.
Mas como eu ando monotemática, vou falar de novo da dor de estomago "indiagnosticável" da Lia. Essa mesma dor que está me deixando louca.
A naturopata cortou a maioria dos alimentos da dieta da menina e quando ela vai a consulta, a Lia se sente melhor, mas quando nós voltamos prá casa, parece que a dor piora. Dizem que é assim mesmo, que tem que ficar pior para depois melhorar. Coração de mãe não dá conta disso não.
Piorar não e palavra que entre no nosso vocabulário sem causar xiliques.
Além da naturopata, eu tentei também manipulaçào visceral, outra medicina alternativa. Meu sogro e meus cunhados ( todos médicos que me perdoem), mas quando a alopatia falha, as mães apelam prá qualquer coisa.
O negócio é que essas outras coisas estão ajudando, mas nao estão resolvendo. E vendo o meu desespero, a Tina, do Meu Cantinho na Roça, ofereceu para rezar comigo pelo facebook.
Juro! Nós duas nos juntamos em oração por uma rede social da internet.
E a minha filha, pela primeira vez, dormiu uma noite inteira de sono.
No dia seguinte, meus anjos da guarda Silvana ( que é um ser iluminado e um dos mais espiritualizados que já cruzou o meu caminho) e Renata, vieram rezar comigo outra vez.
Você me conhece pessoalmente? Já me viu rezando? Pois é!
Lia viu. E deve ter achado que ela estava a beira da morte, por que a mãe descrente se meteu a rezar e pedir a Deus que tire a dor dela. A bichinha deve ter morrido de medo, mas o fato é que acreditando ou não acreditando, as orações foram as únicas coisas que tiraram a dor da Lia.
No dia seguinte ao "grupo de oração" na minha sala, que foi seguido de orações do grupo da Tina, lá em Minas Gerais,  e de preces dos amigos virtuais que também estão comigo, a minha filha voltou a ir a escola.
Depois de duas semanas sem poder sequer ir á aula, ela voltou a rotina dela. E foi jogar futebol ( chegou em casa morrendo de dores, mas aguentou a partida toda). Prá quem não conseguia trocar dois passos, essa foi uma vitória e tanto.
Dona Cirlei ( minha mãe) , que é atéia, tambem teria ficado de boca aberta e queixo caído. Juro!

***************************

I am not religious. I believe in God, respect all religions, but I'd rather not be "catechized". I do not like people trying to convert me to their beliefs, even if they believe that this is my only hope.
But if you thought I was finally changing the subject and that I will now talk about something else than Lia's pain, you are wrooooong, my friend!The naturopath forbid most foods in her diet. When we have an appointment with her, Lia feels better, but when we go home, it seems the pain worsens. The naturopath who we sweetly call "the witch" says it has to get worse and then improve. This ia very hard on a mother's heart.

In addition to our visits to the witch, we are also trying visceral manipulation, other alternative medicine. My father and bothers in-law (who all happen to be  doctors  will have to forgive me), but when allopathy fails, mothers are allowed to try anything they want.The thing is, these things are helping, but are not resolving the problem. And seeing my despair, Tina, from "meu cantinho na Roça" offered to pray with me on facebook.I swear! We both come together in prayer on a social network site.And my daughter for the first time, enjoyed full night's sleep.The next day, my guardian angels Silvana (who is the most enlightened being that have crossed my path) and Renata came to pray with me again.You know me personally? 've Seen me praying? I know you haven't.
But Lia saw it. And  she must have thought she was dying,  because that could be the only explanation for her mother to pray and ask God to take away her pain.
The fact is that believing or not believing, the prayers were the only thing that took away Lia's pain.The day after we held the "prayer group" in my TV room, (which was followed by prayers of several virtual and "real" friends, my daughter went to school again.After two weeks living a nightmare, she returned to her routine. And it was playing football (he came home in horrible pain, but endured throughout the match). For who could not take two steps, this was a major win.Cirlei (my mother) who is an atheist, would also be amazed if she was here. I swear!

Good Bye Uncle Nelson...

I do not have any photos of my uncle to illustrate this post, but I don't really need one.His image is very clear in my mind and heart. He was so special to me, I do not have to look at his picture to remember all the moments we spent together.

Despite the family ties, we only became close when I was about 11. I went to his house for a visit and stayed for the whole holidays.

My uncle was a controversial guy.

He never claimed to be a saint, never pretended to be one, never expected people to think of him as one.

My uncle drank too much. He gambled. He was a night club owner ( not the family going kind). My uncle had lovers. He encouraged his nephews to go out with prostitutes. He did whatever he wanted and encouraged others to do the same.

And with all the transgressions, and misbehavior, he had the biggest heart in the world. He took care of everyone around him. He gave jobs to however came to him asking for help. he shared his love, his money and his affection.

My uncle has left a huge mark in my life. He showed me you can be a good, caring person without playing by the rules.

My cousing and I, (elder son of Uncle Nelson), were sweethearts. We were 11, 12 years old  and we had this amazing bond. We did everything together, whenever we could.

My aunts were getting worried, we were getting  "too close". That could not be good. Boys and girls need to keep a safe distance.

My uncle would simply put us in his car and take us to work with him, claiming he needed help. At the restaurant, he would give us his best table, and just let us pretend to be customers. i never drunk so many fruit cocktails. I felt I was the most important person in the world, and Sandro and I had a break from everyone else. It was magic.

In our home town, Lindoia, he would give us his car keys. My grandma went crazy everytime he did it, but he would just laugh, say something sweet to her and go back inside.

My grandma and aunties begged me to stop spending time with him, and I never listened.

In one of our car adventures, we got caught by the police and scorted home.

My uncle gave us a lecture in front of the authority, told him  we took the key while he was sleeping.

The sheriff turned around, he threw the key back to Sandro with a very specific recommendation:

- I hope you two idiots learnt your lesson. Don't ever come home scorted by the police again...

We were not even 13 yet.

He took me to Mardi Grass, he left us swim at night. Uncle nelson let us do whatever we wanted to do, as long as we were happy, it was fine by him!

We spent countless nights playing cards, jumping up and down on his sofas, we made a mess in the house, but he never told us off, there was never a frown. If we were having fun, we were doing what we were supposed to.

The lifestyle he chose, finally caught up with him and he lost his money, his business, his wife.One day he was the boss, the next he had nothing.

After I grew up, I have always tried to keep the connection, I always tried to track him down and visit him in the restaurants he was working for.

With a very sharp memory, he remembered the name of those who went to his restaurant, he made a point of chatting with every person who came to his stablishment.

Once I took about 12 people to his restaurant for dinner. Months later, one of these friends went back to the place. As soon as my uncle saw him, he asked:

- Are you still a vegetarian?

 I'm sure lots of people are mourning his departure today. I am sure he left his mark in many lives, not only mine.

Uncle, rest in peace. I will love you forever ...

Tchau Tio Nelson...

Nao tenho nenhuma foto do meu tio pra ilustrar esse post, mas tambem nao preciso de uma. Tenho na memoria e no coracao a imagem nitida desse homem que foi tao especial na minha adolescencia.

Apesar do parentesco, nos so ficamos proximos quando eu tinha uns 11 anos. Fui fazer uma dessas visitas familiares e acabei ficando na casa dele as ferias todas.

Meu tio era um cara controverso.

Nada desse papo de santo. Nunca foi santo, nunca fingiu ser.

Meu tio bebia muito. Jogava a dinheiro. Era dono de boate ( alem de restaurantes). Meu tio tinha amantes. Incentivava os sobrinhos a irem a zona. Fazia tudo errado pros padroes convencionais. Esse meu tio era do balacobaco.

Mas no meio de tanta transgressao, ele tinha o maior coracao do mundo. Ele cuidava de quem quer que fosse, dava empregos para todo mundo, distribuia amor, carinho e dinheiro pra quem estivesse precisando.

Meu tio marcou a minha vida. Me ensinou que voce pode ser uma pessoa boa, sem seguir os 10 mandamentos, sem ler pela cartilha que todo mundo espera que voce leia.

Eu e o meu primo ( filho mais velho do Tio Nelson), eramos namoradinhos. Nos tinhamos 11, 12 anos e faziamos tudo juntos. Sentavamos na mesma poltrona, na mesma cadeira na hora do almoco, iamos a todos os lugares juntos, nao nos desgrudavamos.

E as tias, todas alvorocadas, todas nos nossos pes, pra ter certeza que nos nao iamos fazer "nenhuma bobagem".

Meu tio nos colocava no carro e levava pro restaurante dele com a desculpa que nos iamos "ajudar". Quando nos chegavamos la, ele nos dava uma mesa e mandava os garcons nos tratar como clientes. Eu me esbaldava nos coqueteis de frutas. Me achava tao chic...

Quando iamos pra Lindoia, ele dava a chave do carro pra gente sair cidade afora. Maluco, maluco, eu bem sei. Minha avo ficava alucinada.

Cansei de ouvir minha avo e algumas tias dizendo: voce acha divertido, acha engracado, mas a casa dele nao e ambiente para voce. nao va mais la, minha querida.

E eu ia, claro!

Num desses passeios de carro pela cidade, fomos trazidos de volta pra casa pelo delegado.

Meu tio nos passou um sermao na frente da autoridade, disse que nos pegamos a chave enquanto ele dormia.

O delegado virou as costas, ele jogou a chave de volta pro Sandro com a inequivocada recomendacao:

- Ve se voces dois deixam de ser estupidos e nao me aparecam mais aqui escoltados pela policia!

Nos nao tinhamos nem 13 anos.

Era ele quem me levava pra pular carnaval, que em deixava nadar a noite, que acobertava as nossas estripulias. Com o Tio Nelson, tudo podia. e nos nos divertiamos muito.

Passavamos a noite jogando baralho, pulando no sofa da sala, enchiamos a garagem de sabao em po e ficavamos escorregando pra la e pra ca.

Nunca levamos uma bronca, nunca uma cara feia, nunca uma represalia. Ta feliz, ta divertido? Entao ta otimo...

Eu cresci, meu amor e admiracao por ele nunca diminuiram. Quando eu ja era adulta, me lembro do meu tio vivendo numa gangorra. Horas estava bem, horas tinha perdido tudo. Trabalhava num restaurante aqui, numa pizzaria ali...

Eu o convidei para ser meu padrinho de casamento, ele nao foi por que estava pobre e nao podia me comprar um super presente. Fiquei arrasada, nunca quis o presente dele, queria que ele estivesse ali, comigo.

Sempre tentei manter contato, sempre ia aos restaurantes onde ele trabalhava depois que o dele fechou as portas. O jantar de batizado das minhas filhas foi no restaurante onde ele estava - assim ele passaria a fazer parte da vida das pequenas tambem.

Meu tio nao viajou mundo afora, mas falava da Italia comos e fosse sua terra Natal. Seus restaurantes eram italianos, e ele discutia geografia com os clientes como se ele tivesse crescido no pais da bota.

Com a memoria afiadissima, ele se lembrava do nome dos que iam ao seu restaurante, fazia questao de falar com todo mundo.Nunca conheci ninguem tao carismatico.

No batizado da Anita, levei doze pessoas para jantar la. Meses depois um dos meus convidados voltou sozinho ao restaurante e o Tio Nelson perguntou:

- Continua vegetariano?

O cara tinha um talento para tratar com o publico, que se equiparava ao carinho que ele dispensava aos amigos. Tenho certeza que muita gente esta chorando a sua partida hoje. NAo tenho duvidas que voce tenha marcado muitas vidas, exatamente como marcou a minha.

Tio, va com Deus, descanse em paz. Eu vou te amar pra sempre...

Perspectiva e bom demais!!! Nothing better than perspective in life!!!

Foto tirada daqui . Pic from here

My life has been an emotional roller coaster latelly. My marriage is not at it's best, I am not working, I can't see much future in many relationships I engaged recently ( from friendships to professional prospects).

I can say things are far from ideal in my little world, but sometimes things happent o bring perspective into one's life. And yesterday was one of these days.

I was having a bad day, thinking my belly button was the centre of the universe, when for a second I realised my daughter could be in danger. She could be hurt, even seriously hurt or worse.

Then, like a movie, all my worries, all my anger, all my ressentment passed before my eyes - and it meant NOTHING.

None of of the pain I am going through meant a thing when compared with the possibility of my child being hurt or unwell.

So today I chose to live well, to invest in my marriage and in my family. I chose not to give up, to fight life's battles and to be happy. To be happy with my kids and with my husband. To be happy with or without a job.

To be happy with the life I chose. and to make it even better.

Thank God my baby is well.

Tenho vivido numa montanha russa emocional de deixar qualquer um maluco. Meu casamento anda sofrendo ( em 15 anos de relacionamento voce acumula muita magoa, muita bagagem, muita tristeza) e as vezes e dificil lidar com tanta coisa.

Mas o bafafa de ontem me trouxe perspectiva na vida.

Por um momento, eu tive panico so em pensar que a minha filha estivesse machucada, ou coisa pior. Num micro espaco de tempo, eu revi minha vida, meus valores, e coloquei no lugar o que e importante e o que nao tem importancia nenhuma.

Sea  Lili estivesse mesmo machucada, nenhuma das minhas crises ( marital, existencial, profissional, "amigál", territorial - to em bahrain, lembram-se?) faria a menor diferenca. Num momento, tudo isso perdeu importancia, deixou de ter peso, ficou insignificante.

Tudo o que eu queria era ouvir a voz dela, saber que ela estava bem.

Entao, a partir de hoje, e escolho deixar as crises para traz. Eu escolho perdoar os pecados - meus e alheios, desculpar os erros que todos nos cometemos e ver o mundo com outros olhos.

Eu escolho olhar as coisas boas, valorizar o bem, escolho ser feliz.

E sem pensar duas vezes ( depois de ter pensado um milhao) escolho cuidar do meu casamento e da minha familia. Eu opto por eles, acima de tudo.

E sei que tudo vai dar certo.Por que finalmente eu vi o que e importante e o que nao passa de besteira...

Betrayal

Today I was surfing the blogsphere when I found a blog ( I am sorry, in Portuguese), discussing fantasies and betrayal. It says it is Ok to have fantasies, that everyone has them , but to act on it is a whole different story, and then it talks about relationships, commitment and respect. well written, and it made me think.

In the past it would be easy to get me excited, defending impalement as a fair punishment for betrayals. the time passed, I believe I met more people, heard more stories, witnessed different life stories and saw two different sides to the story.

I saw women who forgave the cheating husband to protect the family, some " forgave" to protect the patrimony, some just because they saw no way out.

I saw people who could not stand it, suffered, cried, made scenes, one even danced with huge heels ( mine) on top of her husband's car. My shoes and the car were never, ever the same after that...

My questions after reading that post were about the definition of betrayal. What is cheating?

Is thinking about someone else betrayal?
Is acting on that impulse betrayal?

Is cyber sex betrayal?

Does it need to be emotional involvement to be betrayal? What about sex with prostitutes? Is it?


Is emotional involvement enough to be classified as betrayal?

It is easy to judge - and so many times I were guilt of judging others, but reality is only the people involved in the situation will know what is worth doing to hold the relationship together. Only the partners will know their story, their commitment, their truth and what to do.

MY GRANDMA

I am lucky enough to have 3 had grandmas. I have spoken about one of them a couple of times here but I never mentioned Grandma Lide. Until now.


Today would be her 78 birthday. She was exactly 40 years and 1 month older than me and I was her only grandchild. My grandma left me 20 years ago. I never got over it.


I remember spending  my holidays with her, going to her house only to be around her. There were no other kids, we never went out do do anything. To be with her was enough. I don't even remember talking much.


She cooked for me, she cared for me - my mother would take me to her home every time I was sick, since I was a baby, and leave me there until I recovered. And we lived over 200 km away from each other.


I remember her taking me to the manicure, to the market ( where I could buy my own fruits and veggies), I remember going to the butcher for her and even remember when I went to the cold store to buy eggs - and came home with a dozen of broken eggs. I was so happy to go out on my own, I skipped all the way back - and the eggs suffered a bit. She did not say a word about it.


She taught me how to make lots of things.


And when I was 10, she told me she had cancer. I remember three surgeries, one amputation and 8 years later, loosing her to this stupid disease.


I also remember being so lost, I kept calling her number for months after her death - hoping she would just pick up the phone.


When Anita, my first baby was born, she left the hospital wearing the clothes my grandma made for my first baby. It was spring, the sun was shinning and Anita had her green wintery, warm baby clothes on. I did not care - they were my grandma's present. It was just too special.


I am sad she did not live to see the person I became. I am sad she never met my husband, my kids, she never got to share my adult life with me.


All she got were my childhood years and my stroppy teen years. poor grandma...


HAPPY BIRTHDAY!  I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE!!

my grandparents

Some time ago, I wrote about my grandma here, in this very same blog. You can read the posts here , here and  here

My cousin, who lived with her, and claim to be the only "real grandchild", found some of the letters my grandpa wrote to her, along the years. I finally understood why she left us recently. She could no longer be away from him.

This is the poem he wrote to her on their 41 st anniversary. They were married for 53 years when he passed away.

I just feel this urge to hug and kiss both of them...



I will remember our old times
Because the past is also part of life


When you were young, your hair was blond
and you wore it in two gorgeous long pony tails 


I did not met you by chance
It was my destiny


You were just a child
I was only a boy
I met the girl you were
And in our games, you were my girlfriend


We never thought the time would pass by

And the time did pass by...

All of it just seems like a mistery
The most magic thing that could happen
Real love was born, inside a cemetery

Everything that happened
It purely the truth, no tale
And with the force of our destiny and God's help, 
We are still together


Everything I wrore here
Stayed behind, in those days
Now we are here, living the present 

Happy, Thank God
but just a little tired


I would like to be a poet, or a great writter
to be able to write many pretty words


In the past, I loved you a lot
Today is our 41st anniversary and I love you even more

Your hair is silver
like the waves in the ocean 
Your face is wrinkled, your eyes are tired
but i still want to kiss your lips

I am no poet, so I can't write pretty poetry
But we know how to love and live in peace
Our home is not pretty
But it is filled with so much love, it makes it gorgeous
Some even call it " Father Thomas ranch"

God bless you and this day. It brings us so much happiness...
















 Now  you tell me... Isn't it just amazing??

 

There are lots of things that annoy me. Some make me furious...

Racism is up there, on the top of the list.

And this story is a classic example of what pisses me off.

I have a friend who is Brazilian, married to a Canadian guy and they have two children ( no longer children, but she would never admit that). One girl and one boy.

The girl has a Paquistani boyfriend for almost 3 years now ( or there abouts). The guy, just got hid first girlfriend - her mother is Indian and the father is English.

Both mothers were chit chatting. My Brazilian friend and the Indian woman.Just read this and then tell me what you think:

- So your girl also has a boyfriend?

_ Yes, she does. They have been together for 3 years, he is a real nice guy.

- Oh, that's cool. Where is he from?

- Paquistan

after a brief silence, in a mourning tone, the lady asks my friend:

- Oh... my God... How do you feel about THAT?

My answers would be very clear. I would have chosen between:

" the same way your mother in law felt when your husband decided to marry YOU " or " The same way I feel about my son dating your daughter"...

Thank God my friend is far more polite and she replied:

- He makes my daughter very happy, I could not wish for more!!!

Bless her soul!

RACISMO

Tem  muita coisa que me tira do serio, me deixa loooouca da vida. Racismo e uma delas.
Esses dias eu estava conversando com uma amiga brasileira que ja saiu do Brasil ha muitos anos. Ela e casada com um canadense e eles tem dois filhos. Um menino e uma menina ( ou melhor dizendo, um homem e uma mulher, ja que os dois sao maiores de idade).

A menina namora um paquistanes ha uns 3 anos. O menino esta tendo a sua primeira namorada seria. Ela e filha de uma indiana e um ingles.

As duas maes estavam conversando ( a brasuca e a indiana). Papo vai...papo vem... ai a indiana pergunta pra minha amiga:

- Sua menina namora ha bastante tempo ne?
- Namora. Eles estao super felizes, o cara e uma graca.
- e de onde ele e?
- Paquistanes.

...a mae indiana imediatamente leva a mao ao coracao e pergunta:

- oh meu Deus... e como e que voce esta se sentindo em relacao a isso??

Fosse eu na fita, teria varias respostas para oferecer:

- da mesma forma que a sua sogra se sentiu quando o seu marido escolheu se casar com voce querida....

ou

- da mesma forma que eu me sinto em relacao ao meu filho namorar uma indiana...

Minha amiga, chic que ela so, respondeu, na maior compostura:

- Eles estao super felizes, o cara e uma graca. Eu nao poderia estar mais feliz!

Bendita seja a minha amiga que ja nao saiu esculhambando o comentario racista da outra!!!!!!

Footbal in Brazil

I was chatting with a Brazilian friend who lives in New Zealand today:

- My wife will have to reschedulle her flights, coming back from Brazil.

- WHYYYY?

- 'cause it is on Friday. And Brazil is playing. The taxi companies alraedy told people not to rely on them because they may be late, or not come at all. World Cup, you know...

- Wow! What about family? Doesn't she have anyone to take her to the airport?

- Her brother could. But he wants to watch the game too.

I thought it was hilarious. I left Brazil too long ago, I don't remember these things.

Today we also had good news about my kids travels. They will now be able to go to Brazil. The residence is ready, the paperwork is sort of OK and the bureaucracy seems to be a bit easier. We called the family to let them know:

- Great news. The kids will be able to travel soon. All sorted over here!

Celebrations on the other side of the line!!! WOHOOO...

- And I would like the girls to get there for your birthday, Leya (mother in law)

More celebrations!!

- They can travel as early as Thursday, so they get there on Friday and are ready for Saturday, the birthday itself.

- Friday? But on Friday Brazil is playing. There is a World Cup game. It will be complicated to pick them up at the airport in Sao Paulo. Send them on Friday, they can arrive on Saturday!

I did not find it as funny as the first story. Actually I did not find it funny at all.

I called my dad

- Hey dad! Where are you watching the game on Friday?

- At home. in Campinas.

- But I called your PA and she said you would see it in the office - in Sao Paulo.

- Nah... She doesn't know anything. I will see it here. Campinas. But why are you asking?

- Because I was thinking about sending the kids

he did not let me finish. he just interrupted me:

- My grandkids? Send them whenever you want - I will pick them up. I don't even want to watch the game anymore...

Isn't he the best?? Best dad ever!!!  Love you.

They grow up - unfortunatelly

My babies are no longer babies. Anita is a teenager, and Lia is not yet, but at 12, she surely behaves like one.

Now that they are gown ups, all I have left are the memories.

I remember once when we were in Melbourne, and I took the kids to a Barbie show. They were three and four years old. The place was packed full. We saw the show, and when I look around, they were both gone.

I was terrified my girls would be alone, and afraid. Then I panicked someone would kidnap them. I heard so many stories about horrible kids disappearances.

I called security and got them to lock all the exits, then started running in the shopping corridors, looking for them.

Suddenly, I see these two girls, dressed exactly the same (believe me, THEIR choice, never mine), holding hands, chatting and laughing.

When they saw me, they stopped and Lia put both hands on her waist and said:

- MUM! You got lost!!

I never felt so much relief in my life

Bye Grandma

Today my nana decided to let go. She has been in intensive care for a month now, but she was finding it difficult to leave us.

I can understand that. If I were her, I would worry what would happen to us without her love, her care, her sweet words and her comfy food.

My mother once said my nana did not know how many children she had. Everywhere she went, someone adopted her. She had so many adoptive children and grandchildren, it was impossible to keep track.

She was the one who always had a sweet word for everyone. She never judged us, and man, did we give her reasons to... My nana never complained. She was never grumpy.

This woman was an example of faith and love for others. She had many, many tragedies in her life ( lost two children in less than one year, her daughter had a miscarriage on her first pregnancy, she saw many of her brothers and sisters leave this planet...), but she never lost faith. Never gave up.

My nana believed God knew what he was doing, and that seemed to be enough for her. She prayed and kept going.

My grandma taught us to be resilient. And to smile. She cooked and baked for us. we cried on her shoulder, we looked for her when we could not find anyone else to hold our hands.

Today she left for good, but I know she will be watching over us. I know she will be able to protect and care for her "family" the way she has always done.

I wish I was in Brazil. You never hear me saying this, but today is one of those situations when I really wish I was there. I would hug my mother and hold my godmother's hand. I would cry with my cousins and we would remember stories about our childhood. Monica and Fernanda would yell at me and Fabiola and say we were impostor grandkids, they were the real deal... I would place my head on Pedro's lap and let him sing for me until I slept. I would share all this pain I have in my heart with Deco. And it would make it all easier.

Thank you nana. Thank yu for helping me be a better person. Thank you for teaching me it is better to be good than nasty (  still struggle with that one). Thank you for choosing me as your grandchild.

Leticia - my sweet angel

About 5 years ago, I was standing in a delivery room, watching this gorgeous girl come to this world. Truth to be told, Adriana, her mother, sort of scammed me into being there. And I was. White as a sheet of paper, not able to move my legs...

Today I am so grateful I have no words. This day is imprinted in my memory and the emotion I felt was unique, never repeated. One day I promise to tell this story, but today is all about our re union.

After Ana's farewell, I went back to Adriana's home. I would have the chance to spend some time with her, my gorgeous girl, her husband and meet Tiago, her son, who was born in Switzerland less than 3 years ago.

We came home all chatty, remembering stories and laughing a bit. I wanted to see the house, a gorgeous place, right in the artificial island, - that one, shaped like a palm).Suddenly, this lovely little girl walks into the kitchen. Her hair all messed up, her eyes very sleepy, she heard some noise and wanted to join the fun! It was Leticia, my little princess. I gave her a kiss and we all went to bed.

It was hard for me to sleep in. At 6 am I was awake. Then I forced myself to sleep again, and woke up at 7, 8, until I heard some voices in the kitchen. WOHOO, the kids were up.

Leticia and I were like old friends, she hugged me, kissed me and decided to spend tome with me.

Adriana swears she is exactly like that with E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E. If you ask me, I think Adriana is just jealous.

Tiago, the brother, was a bit more cautious. He would come in and out of the kitchen. Say things and not wait for the answers. When his mother said:

- Come and give my friend a Kiss

he was quick to reply:

- Mum's friend is upstairs. Sleeping.


He had no idea who was that stranger right in the Middle of his kitchen, and took him a while to accept I was the same person who was allegedly sleeping at the guests room.

Unfortunately Adriana was not feeling well and we decided it would be better if I went out, and left her to rest a bit. The poor woman was shivering with cold and it was 40 degrees celsius!

Off I went to Rosana's house.

Happy Birthday, Ian

Ian was our neighbor when we were living in the Emirates. He worked with FAbio and lived a couple of villas away from ours. We did not meet, until Halloween, then Anita and Lia went trick and threatening, and came back with this fab story:

They knocked on his door and he said:

- Would you like chocolate or sardines?

- My kids, did not even think twice: sardines, of course!!

He did not have any sardines and the poor ghosts had to come back home with chocolates. That was all he had.

When I heard this story, I knew he would be part of our lives. Somehow I was sure about it. He had to be. He was too fun!

Ian became part of our family. He had lunch with us whenever he could and he had dinner with us most evenings. When he could not be bothered, I sent him some food. The kids would knock on his door ( I hope) and deliver his meals on wheels. He adopted my children, and we were inseparable. His family could not come to live in Dubai, and he missed them terribly. Apparently my family helped a bit.

Ian went to parent teacher interviews at the kids school. He was there when Lia got her yellow belt at Karate. He carried Lia's b'day cake to the party when she turned 7. Ian told stories of his children, his childhood, his life. Ian loved entertaining people. He was born for the stage. And we all applauded him.

Ian went to my kid's swimming competition, he was in the audience when they performed their play at school. Ian yelled at their soccer coach when he thought he could do better. Ian was furious when Anita came home claiming a 10 year old boy had beaten her up at the playground. He put his shoes on, and said: no one beats up my girls!!

Lucky for all of us, the boy was gone by the time he reached the playground.

Ian took us shopping. We had ice cream together. He baby sat for us. Ian watched Shrek 2 with my girls over a hundred times, and laughed every time. Ian loved us. He loved us for what we are. He never expected anything else from us.

Ian missed his kids. He told lots of stories about Matthew, who looked just like him, and according to Ian, behaved like him too. And apparently was a great actor, guess like whom...

He missed his girls too. All four of them. Emma, his own child, and Cath's girls, who he adopted whole heartedly.

Ian made jokes. Ian laughed aloud. He played cards with my mother in law and helped us carry their suit cases when they were leaving the country. Ian bought us gifts. Ian was always texting his wife in New Zealand.

He took my kids to school sometimes. He picked them up other times. If he was not working, he enjoyed waiting for the school bus in front of our compound. Ian let my children mess up his hair. And put make up on him.

Ian listened to their stories. He bought coca cola and left his door unlocked so my kids could go to his place and help themselves - he knew I disapproved of soft drinks...

We went to the supermarket on weekends. We shared a washing machine. Very often I came home and all my clothes (including my undies)  were already folded, so he could use the drier.

He drove Anita to he doctor when she thought she was sick. He did not care it took him 3 hours in a stinking summer heat in the Middle East, just to find out she had nothing ( as we already suspected).

Ian enjoyed food. and a good conversation. Ian was a story teller.

Our assignment in Dubai came to an end and we moved back to New Zealand. He was in Auckland and we were in Palmerton North. Far away. But every month he came over. And cooked for us. He met our kiwi friends and made friends with them too. He helped in another one of Lia's bday party. He made us happy.

Ian black mailed Lia when she thought about going to a friend's house when he was in Palmerston North. It worked just fine.

He watched TV with us, he patted our cat and played with our dog. He taught Fabio how to make pancakes, enjoy maple syrup and do funny tie knots. Ian was generous. And fun. And larger than life, but one day he just left.

He woke up, and  fell next to his bed. Massive heart attack. He left us all orphans.

Today is his birthday. He would be 49. We love you. So much it is not even funny...

Replacement Parents

I just remembered when Anita (my oldest girl) was 7ish. One day she came out of the blue and asked:

- Mum, if you and dad die, who will be my replacement parents?

Of course I had no answer to this question. I had not planned dying, let alone giving my children away. I can only imagine one couple who is capable of raising Anita and Lia. Us, of course. Their parents. No one else.

But Anita, who never let anything go easily, kept asking the same question over and over, until I decided to have one of those long conversations with Fabio. Who on Earth would be good enough to raise our little princesses, in case we both kicked the bucket at once?

The thought of having our parents raising them was quickly discarded. There is a reason for the expression "raised by grandma"...

If we were proper catholics, we would just make sure the God parents were "ït". There are several problems with this option, though. The most important one is the fact that Anita and Lia have different God parents. No way we would consider splitting them. Another one is that we did not choose couples for the task. I chose the God mother and fabio the God father.

I am the only child. No brothers or sisters to call on.

Fabio has two brothers. One is a delightful guy, who was almost 40 and just refuses to take things seriously. I don't believe he is going to become ana dult anytime soon. Don't take me wrong. He is wonderful. And a great professional. We could imagine him taking the girls out, having lots of fun with them, but I don't think they would ever have to wash behind their ears.

Lucky for us, Fabio has another brother. The one that check all the proper parenting boxes. He has two gorgeous girls who are well balanced, well structured and seem happy enough. His wife is Lia's God mother. It all seem to fit.

We spoke to him. Told him to discuss the matter with his wife and give us an answer. If they agreed, we would craft a will, where we would leave our most precious "assets" under their care, in case we passed away.

It did not take long for them to accept the "job". They called back saying they would raise our kids as their own. And we indeed registered our will.

Anita, only 7 was not afraid of death, her biggest concern was with the future and what would happen to her and her sister, if something went terribly wrong. We got it sorted out for her, and I confess it makes me a bit more comfortable, knowing they will be ok, if we just leave without notice.

Lia

Lia is my younger daughter and today was her birthday. She is turning 12. Our baby is simply no longer a baby. And I do have problems to make peace with it.

Yesterday I held her in my arms, I woke up to feed her. Today she is a pre teen with all the implications it brings.

Because it is her birthday she was allowed to skip school today. And she could choose whatever she wanted to do.

Lucky for me, she chose to have lunch with me, then go to the movies. It was just the two of us. In the whole cinema. We laughed out loud, we put our feet on the chair right in front of us. We even sat in the wrong seats, just to be mean.

After the movie, I dragged her to a wonderful hairdresser here in Bahrain. He is a genius with the scissors and Lia is too pretty to have dull hair. Took some convincing, she is a pre teen after all, right?

When she finished her hair cut (and looked FAB) we went home, quickly changed and out we went with FAbio and Anita (my other daughter, who is already 13).

We spent a wonderful day, I was glad I had the opportunity to spend time with her, but the truth is : I am scared. I am terrified my babies are soon going to fly the nest. I raised both of them to be independent, active and to know what they want and fight for it. Now that they are almost ready to do it all, I am feeling empty and wish they were just insecure and unable to leave me. Ever!