Organizing and the playroom

I am not as perceptive as I’d like to be. For instance, sometimes I know I shouldn’t be doing what I do – work-wise – but I still can’t put my finger on what it is that I SHOULD, in fact, be doing.

That’s why I was so surprised this morning when my boss assigned me something different to do. I’ll basically be organizing a bit more and drawing a bit less.

He said he noticed how much I enjoyed organizing things and, since I was pretty much the only one with excel abilities in the drawing office, I was the person for the job.

He noticed how everyone else’s desk is a mess and everything on mine was perpendicular, separated by color and alphabetized. 

The coolest part is, when he actually said I’d be doing that, I was excited! I hadn’t been excited about work in a while. I mean, I don’t mind it at all, it can be interesting (kinda)… but I do get bored quite easily. Bored, sleepy and hungry actually.

So, yeah, it took a total stranger to suggest something completely obvious.

I am an organizer.

I should know this, since last Monday was a holiday and I deliberately chose to separate my kids’s toys in categories and line them up – which lasted for about a second ’cause… well, they are kids.

Now, people, is THIS a job?

Probably not, but it’s definitely a clue.

Did I create the best, most organized playroom ever? Of course not. But I absolutely liked the way it felt… even though I never finished it! =)

I still have a long way to go and I don’t have the money to do anything fancy , but the girls enjoyed it so much! And OMG so did I!

These little things make me so happy… they make me feel at home! I feel really blessed right now and actually happy. Let’s all hope my stupid grandmother’s spirit doesn’t curse me with bad news just ’cause I actually said the H word…

Let’s review my check list for 2017:

  • everyone is healthy – good.
  • the house is good.
  • work is good.
  • the city NEEDS ADJUSTMENTS! But I’ll get there!

We need to allow ourselves to be happy.

No pressure, I’m learning it myself.


2 years in Canada

Today is Augst 4th. That means that 2 years ago exactly we landed in our new country. It’s been 2 years since I last smelled those familiar scents that my brain associates to the word “home”.

For the longest time I repeated the same thing to my friends back there:

“We are living in Canada, but we still don’t have a life here”. ‘Cause we really didn’t.

I mean, there’s the people at work and the people on the street, but they are not “our people”. And, since the girls don’t go to school yet, our routine is kinda weird. It feels like a crazy long vacation. It just doesn’t feel real enough.

When we were in Toronto, I made 2 good friends. But we couldn’t stay there and we started it all over.

We moved to a place where no one would talk to us. It was a terrible neighborhood because we felt like we were being judged all the time. The neighbors wouldn’t even say good morning.

But a couple weeks ago, things changed. Thanks to the bed bug infestation in our neighbor’s house, we were forced (and  allowed) to move.

We moved to a condo with a few more brazilian families. Instantly,  we moved close to friends.

Sometimes we have dinner together on a Monday just for the heck of it. Our kids play together all the time. We laugh. We talk.

And yes, we all need support and we all need a friend right now. But these people have made me feel like we have a life here. They are our people. They make our phone rings and we make plans for the weekends. I am so, so happy they are here.

They almost make me wanna stay in this city…



Me, on prozac

Today is Thursday. Lunch break. There are a lot of things on my mind, but none of them are scary.

At 12:27pm I do not think anything bad is about to happen, like I did a few weeks ago. I am not alert. In fact, I think those thoughts were silly and highly unlikely. And, even though everything that scared me before is kind of still here… I just don’t worry about it that much.

For instance, yes, there is a weird lesion on my back. Whatever, I’ll just remove it. If it’s cancer, I’ll just cure it. Rationally, it’s been there forever and it’s not changing that fast so… it’s probably soon enough. The end.

I guess this is how normal people feel all the time. Me? This is how I feel on prozac.

It bothers me that I can’t reach this state of mind on my own. I mean, isn’t this version of me inside my brain somewhere? Is this the pills talking? Can’t I just live life as if I was permanently stoned? It sounds rather fun.

So, why don’t I just take the fucking pills and get happy all the time, you might wonder.

Well, because the side effects are brutal. It’s killing my immune system and that’s NOT something you aim for in life.

So, there you go. Stuck between the decision of being afraid of being sick when you’re actually healthy or making yourself sick so you won’t be afraid.

Tough one, guys.

Though one.

A year in the life

A lot’s happened last year. Not to me, though. Still, I sat here and observed as my friend’s lives collapsed.

I panicked.

It took me a long time to realize we were ok, because the things I watched happening around me made me terrified of life. It was like a big fire and I could not predict the wind… I couldn’t tell whether the flames would hit my lands or not.

I wanted to protect me and my family and I didn’t know where to start.

I didn’t know what had killed Stella in a week. I didn’t know why my cousin’s baby had been born with microcephaly … I didn’t know why my friend’s baby had cancer.

I researched and researched.

I was so scared of not finding any answers. So afraid of that fire.

Amongst all things that involved science, religion and the unpredictable there was always one common denominator: happiness.

It’s not that bad things are not going to happen to you if you are happy. But there’s actually a chance some of them can be prevented by it.

Is that the gratitude thing everyone talks about? – I wondered.

And so, the year went by.

Stella came to me in a dream, which brought peace to my heart.

My cousin is pregnant again and her little boy just turned one. He is responding fine to treatment.

My friend’s baby is cured.

So, last weekend, I set on the floor, watched cartoons with my girls and gave up the medicine I had been taking for 10 days.

I realized I didn’t have an unbalanced brain that could be fixed by a pill. I actually had been through a lot last year and I needed the time to process all that. In fact, I would probably need a pill if those things HADN’T affected me!

But most of all, I realized we were fine. Not threaten by life. Just fine. And, as I walked to the parking lot to grab something from the car, I took a deep breath. At that moment I was transported right back to a day at the beach when I was 12…

No worries, just happiness. Because we are all allowed.


A couple years ago, I had to delete my facebook account because of a threat. It wasn’t a direct threat, but it still freaked me out.

This woman, I had never seen before in my life, commented that she had seen my girls with their grandparents at the mall.

“They go there a lot, don’t they? Almost every day. Around 6pm”.

We were from a small town, you see, we were pretty easy to spot.

I tried not to be rude with her but also not extend the conversation. She seemed too interested. She knew we were moving to Canada, she knew who we were.

At that point I thought “shit… the only reason she knows all this is basically because I told her” Well, not “her” per say, but I must have mentioned it in some social media and she was able to track it.

You see, being from a poor country, when people assume you have money (which I actually really don’t) it can be dangerous.

We were about to move to Canada, yes, but my parents were still going to be there. She knew where they lived. They could be kidnapped! And that’s not paranoia talking, that’s just Brazil. Promise.

So, I deleted that facebook account, created another one and – unfortunately – since I am such a big fan of photography, (no, I don’t even own a camera, but that’s a whole other story) I ended up sharing the girl’s photos from instagram MAYBE way too much.

At this point some random person, again, from Brazil, contacted me.

She asked for clothes for her kids. I was more than happy to help. But then she started texting A LOT and sending me tons of pictures of her kids “look at their faces, they are my life, I really need you to help me”.

Dude, I am all for helping. But this was getting weird.

At one point, she told me that one of her kids had cancer – out of the blue – and that she needed money for exams.

I cried.

I mean, I believed her and that’s just something really, really terrible.

But don’t go crying yourself just yet. The kid is fine. It wasn’t exactly true.

So, again, I thought “SHIT!”

I seriously need not to talk to people. I can barely handle my own crazy, I definitely can’t deal with someone else’s.

I do not have the maturity to be on facebook. Seriously. But we left everyone behind – and I do mean everyone – I’m kinda stuck to it.

So, I created a new one.

Let’s all cross our fingers and hope this time I use it wisely.

Sharing is good, but hiding is also important.

“That” stage

This is how I pictured motherhood would be like: Me, right here, writing on this blog as the kids played around. You know, me doing my thing… them, doing their thing. As I remembered doing it when I was a child.

It sure took a while and the sleep deprivation nearly got me to the edge of my mental health (that’s actually a lie, I went far beyond the edge) but I think we are here.

We are at that stage where the kids wanna play with each other, even though they still want our attention.

At this point, we can actually take them for a ride. They won’t be screaming, trying to get  off the car seat, vomiting, driving us crazy…. and I won’t be sitting in the back with them.

We can also do fun stuff together like play games.

They no longer make me nervous that they might need to be breast fed at the same time or throw up at the same time. Be burped at the same time. God.

No wonder I’m traumatized. Even remembering it makes kinda shaky.

But now, we are at that stage where I actually have so much time for myself (like, a whole hour)  I barely know how to handle it. I am so used to taking short showers and running somewhere that I forgot (I absolutely forgot) how to relax.

It sounds like something fun to learn again, though.

I am happy we are at this stage today.


Many years from now

Sometimes I wanna fast forward life.

It’s not that I don’t wanna enjoy those precious moments yet to come. Their first day of school, putting up the Christmas tree every year, riding our bikes together as a family, while we are still young enough to do it, or the fact that we still have a long way to go before my babies move out  of our house.

The reason why, sometimes, I wanna be in my 70’s is because, by then, I’ll have a different kind of peace.

When I’m 70, my girls will be 40. I know they’ll no longer depend on me. I will not worry about my girls growing up without a mother every-fucking-time there’s a disease outbreak of some sort.

When I’m 70, I’ll know that we’ve made it. I’ll know that we’ve had the most amazing, incredible life and that every single time I felt threatened that someone or something could’ve teared us apart, it was just a false alarm.

I might be able to sleep when I’m 70.

And, yes, I’ll worry about my 40 year old babies just as much as I do now and I’ll be sad at the thought of leaving them… but hopefully I’ll be mostly grateful and I won’t be afraid.