To My Daughter Melanie (June 2026)

 01-02/06 Chapter 554: Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word

The day was supposed to go one way, but it ended up going another after you woke up completely sick with a cold.

I kept thinking about it over and over. How was it possible that yesterday you were perfectly fine? You went to the birthday party, didn’t sneeze once, ran around all day, and then woke up this morning feeling so sick. And it wasn’t just a mild cold. From the moment I saw you, I knew this was going to be a strong one. And so, here we go again.

I messaged your dad and asked him to forget about swimming lessons that day, postpone your overnight stay until the following day, and even put our beach plans for Wednesday evening on hold. You were clearly too sick.

As always, Grandma was a huge help. She stayed with you while I rushed to São Paulo to take care of the things I still needed to do, including preparing and shipping orders for my customers. I came back as quickly as I could, but by then you were feeling even worse.

You were so clingy, so fragile. Coughing, sneezing, and becoming increasingly frustrated with your nose. More than anything, you were upset by the congestion. You have always hated having a stuffy, runny nose. It makes you anxious, uncomfortable, and completely unwilling to accept that there’s nothing we can do to make it disappear immediately.

The night was so difficult. You woke up crying every 10'. Just when I thought you had finally fallen asleep, you would wake up again, miserable and uncomfortable, struggling with your breathing and your nose. But even after such a rough night, despite looking absolutely exhausted and showing all the signs of a nasty cold, you still managed to eat a spinach omelet and some liver. And that made me surprisingly happy because both foods are packed with nutrients, vitamins, and iron. When your child is ill, every bite feels like a small victory, and that night, seeing you eat so well felt like one.

The next day was much better.

I had already started giving you medication the day before. Three different medicines, actually. Two of them were cough syrups. The first one did absolutely nothing, but the one I had brought from the United States—a Vicks syrup—worked perfectly. It finally eased your coughing enough for you to get some real rest during the night.

When you woke up, it was obvious you were feeling better, although you still had quite a bit of congestion and a chesty cough.

I really didn’t want you to miss ballet. Not only is it expensive, but it only happens once a week and lasts just 40 minutes. On top of that, you have your recital at the end of the year, and I assumed they had probably already started rehearsing. Still, I didn’t think you were well enough to go. And honestly, I worried that if I sent you while your immune system was already struggling, you might pick up another cold on top of the one you already had and end up feeling much worse. So Grandma stayed with you again.

This time for even longer because I still had a mountain of things to do. It was also the day of the monthly raffle I organize for the people who donate to my group, where I give away imported products, so I knew I’d be tied up for quite a while. And I was.By the time I got back, it was already after 6 p.m. But you were noticeably better.

And then I got a wonderful surprise. That day, they came to assemble your bed and the wardrobes that had been delivered to Grandpa’s office—the room that used to belong to Tayna. It turned out so beautifully. That room is now yours and Rafinha’s, although technically it’s still shared with Grandpa’s office.

Your bed stayed the same, but now you both have a beautiful wardrobe to share. Grandma decorated everything with stuffed animals, framed photos, and little touches that made the room feel warm and welcoming. It looked absolutely adorable.

The plan for that night was for you to sleep in your own bed again, in that room, by yourself. I didn’t want to lose all the progress we had made teaching you to sleep independently. Especially after those two awful nights that had been so difficult for both of us.

And surprisingly, you seemed completely willing to do it. You accepted the idea without much resistance and looked like you were genuinely going to fall asleep on your own. But then Grandpa—who had enjoyed a few more drinks than he probably should have couldn’t handle it and ended up going to sleep beside you. But I told him that this would be a one-night exception and that next time you would have to do it on your own. Otherwise, when we move into the new apartment, the person who will end up paying the price for those habits will be me.

Now I want to tell you about something that happened with one of my clients, a doctor named Victor.

Victor had been my client for quite some time. To be fair, he had given me a few headaches in the past, but lately things had been going smoothly and we hadn't had any issues. Until recently.

He always bought vitamins from us, and we usually charged him around R$100 per vitamin. Very occasionally, if the item was unusually large, we would charge R$150, but those situations were rare. Most of the time, I let things slide because I was always trying to keep him happy.

The problem was that a couple of times he ordered products that weren't vitamins without ever asking what the fee would be. Once it was olive oil—yes, olive oil—which was incredibly heavy. Another time it was a T-shirt. And this time it was a pair of headphones. I barely paid attention when he ordered them because I assumed they were just regular headphones. Once again, he never asked about the price.

A few days later, he messaged me in a complete panic. Apparently, the delivery driver had attempted to deliver the headphones, but nobody was home, so the package was taken back. According to Victor, they would make one final delivery attempt the following day and, because it was a more expensive item, they refused to leave it at the door.

And that's when I started getting annoyed.

What do you mean someone HAS to be home to receive it? Did he think the world revolved around his package? He had ordered a random item without discussing the price, without coordinating anything in advance, and now he was acting as if someone else's household schedule needed to revolve around receiving his headphones.

I told him I had passed the message along to Luciana, but honestly, I had no idea what would happen. It was a normal weekday. The delivery window was between noon and four in the afternoon. Luciana worked, and her daughters were at college. I couldn't guarantee there would be anyone there. But Victor kept insisting that someone needed to be home. Someone had to receive it. Someone had to make it happen.

The next morning, he messaged me again to tell me he was tracking the delivery minute by minute. At that point, it became increasingly clear that anxiety and Victor were very close friends. To be fair, I had noticed it before, but his level of anxiety seemed genuinely extreme. The ironic part was that he was a doctor. A doctor who had once proudly told me he took more than seventy vitamins a day. Seventy. At that point, I couldn't help thinking that maybe one of those seventy vitamins should be dedicated to anxiety management.

For the rest of the day he kept bombarding me with messages. He wanted Luciana's contact information, which I gave him, but even after that he continued sending updates every few minutes. The driver was nearby. The package was almost there. Someone needed to be home. It was arriving soon. Over and over again. With every message, my patience shrank a little more. Because the reality was simple: if someone happened to be there, great. If nobody was there, then nobody was there. Obsessively worrying about it wasn't going to change the outcome.

In the end, everything worked out. The headphones were delivered without any issues. The story should have ended there. But of course, it didn't.

Later, while packing suitcases, my friend happened to mention that the headphones Victor had ordered were actually very expensive. This wasn't some ordinary pair of earbuds. They retailed for around $350, basically the price of an Apple Watch. Since I had no idea what to charge for something like that, I asked Luciana what fee she would normally charge. She said $40 if the item traveled without its original box and 20% of the product's value if it traveled inside the box. So I took a screenshot of her message and sent it directly to Victor. I didn't add a single cent for myself. Not one. I already knew how he was, and honestly, I was making enough money from the vitamins anyway.

A few minutes later, his reply came: "$70 to bring a pair of headphones in a box????"

The message somehow managed to sound arrogant despite containing only a handful of words. At that point, I could feel my blood pressure rising. I explained that electronics are not the same as vitamins. Just because we charge one price for a bottle of supplements doesn't mean every product in existence costs the same amount to transport. By that logic, should someone expect to bring an iPhone across the world for the price of a vitamin? It made no sense.

I told him that was the price. If he didn't agree with it, no problem—we could simply return the item. His response came back almost immediately.

"Go ahead and send it, Natascha."

I replied with a simple "OK."

But after that, I could feel my blood boiling. And for the first time in a long time, I felt completely justified in writing a very long message to a very spoiled doctor. What finally pushed me over the edge, though, was the message I sent him afterward.

I won't reproduce the entire thing because, honestly, it was a novel. The kind of message you write after swallowing frustrations for months and finally deciding you've had enough. The main point was simple: I told Victor that this would be the last shipment I handled for him.

I reminded him that he had purchased the headphones without asking about the fee beforehand and then complained about the price once he finally heard it. I pointed out that just because we charge one amount for vitamins doesn't mean we can charge the same amount for expensive electronics. That would be absurd. I also reminded him of something he already knew: we had been hit with thousands of reais in import taxes, and yet somehow, despite knowing the risks and costs involved, he still acted as though charging more for a higher-value item was unreasonable.

What frustrated me even more was that the price hadn't even come from me. Luciana was the one who set it. In fact, I wasn't making a single cent from those headphones. Not one. Normally, Luciana gives me her price and I add my own fee on top because I'm the one organizing everything, labeling packages, dealing with customers, arranging deliveries, answering messages, and solving problems. This time I added nothing, and he still complained. My dad has a saying that the more you do for people, the less they appreciate it. The expression he uses is much less polite than that, but the meaning is the same.

Then there was the whole drama surrounding the delivery itself. Victor genuinely seemed to believe it was our responsibility to make sure someone was home to receive a package that he had ordered without any prior arrangement. Not once did he stop and acknowledge that nobody owed him that accommodation. Instead, he doubled down and acted as though he was the victim. That honestly shocked me. Not because people disappoint me anymore—I’ve lived long enough to know better—but because he seemed so convinced that he was right.

The thing is, things had actually been going well between us for a long time. But every so often there was always some product, some issue, some frustration that somehow ended up being directed at me. The irony is that I wasn't even the one making the rules. Luciana lives there. Luciana receives the packages. Luciana sets many of the conditions. I buy products from her and resell them to my clients. Yet somehow, I always seemed to end up absorbing the stress.

And this time it genuinely affected me. The headphone situation made me anxious. It made me nervous. At one point, I was literally shaking. Not because of the headphones themselves, but because I suddenly felt responsible for a problem that had never been mine to solve in the first place.

Then I reminded him of something else. For years, Victor had been the only client I trusted enough to send products to before receiving payment. The only one. I've been working in sales since I was 16 years old. I'm 33 now. 17 years in this business, and in all that time I had never done that for anyone else. Sure, I occasionally asked him to settle the balance before delivery, but eventually I stopped insisting because the arrangement seemed to work. Looking back, maybe that was my mistake. Somewhere along the way, what had started as trust became expectation, and appreciation never seemed to follow.

That’s one of the hardest lessons I’ve learned in life: sometimes the more exceptions you make for people, the less they value them. So I told him that from now on things would work differently. His products would arrive, I would send him the video as I always did, he would pay, and only then would I ship the merchandise. Exactly the way I do with everyone else. No more special treatment. No more VIP privileges. No more bending over backward trying to make someone happy when nothing ever seemed to be enough. And if he didn't agree with that arrangement, no problem. He could generate return labels and we would send everything back within two days.

After that message, he never replied. Part of me was sad. After all, he was a good customer and bought a lot from us. Losing business is never pleasant. But another part of me felt surprisingly calm because the truth is that he had started crossing the line from being demanding into being disrespectful. And if we want other people to respect us, we have to respect ourselves first.

Sometimes a customer is profitable. Sometimes a customer is loyal. But sometimes the headache simply isn't worth it. Our peace of mind matters too, and at that point mine mattered more than another sale.

The only scenario in which I would have been willing to simply move on would have been if Victor had come back with a genuine apology and a little humility. Do I think that's going to happen? Honestly, no. His ego seems far too large for that. Victor always struck me as the kind of person who had spent his whole life hearing "yes" and very rarely hearing "no." And people who aren't used to hearing "no" often take it very badly when they finally do.

 03/06 Chapter 555: Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word

Today you seemed a little worse than you had the day before. At first, I was planning to take you to school and then pick you up afterward so we could head straight to the beach. But since Great-Grandma Sonia was going to be home, I decided to leave you with her instead. That way I could finish everything I still needed to do, get my nails done, pick you up later, and then we'd leave for the beach.

Before dropping you off at Grandma Sonia's, we stopped at a restaurant to eat. I shared some of my meal with you, but you barely ate. I, on the other hand, was starving. I even tried to convince you to try some crispy fried banana, but with no success. I think the combination of fruit and savory food wasn't your thing. Honestly, I've never really understood how people eat bananas like that either, but apparently plenty of people do.

After leaving you with Grandma Sonia, I went off to take care of my errands. At four o'clock, I was sitting in the nail salon for my monthly appointment. My nails turned out really pretty, although I still think last month's blue manicure remains my favorite so far. This one is today's version.

Then I realized something: I forgot our suitcase at your grandparents' house.

I was furious. This is exactly how ADHD disrupts my life. It isn't just being absent-minded. It genuinely affects my ability to function. I forget everything. And I mean everything. So there I was, having to drive all the way back to my parents' house to pick up the suitcase. Seriously, who goes on a trip and forgets the suitcase? That's like going to the airport and forgetting your passport.

Of course, that delayed everything. On the way back, I handed off my customers' packages to the motorcycle courier who would be making the deliveries. Then your dad asked me to pick him up before we went to get you. The traffic between my house and his was awful, so I found myself sitting completely still near a subway station when I noticed a popcorn cart on the sidewalk.

The vendor was selling sweet popcorn. I looked at it for a few seconds and thought, well, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. So I bought myself some sweet popcorn. The funny part was that the payment wasn't going through. It just sat there saying "processing." The vendor assured me it would clear eventually, so I thanked him and drove off.

After picking up your dad, we stopped for gas and then headed to get you. But when we arrived, Grandma Sonia told us she had given you milk. Because of that, she thought it would be a good idea to buy some motion sickness medicine before the drive so you wouldn't end up getting sick in the car. So naturally, we made yet another stop, this time at the pharmacy. Only after that were we finally able to hit the road.

Everyone had warned me that holiday traffic was going to be terrible. They were convinced we would spend hours stuck on the highway. But surprisingly, even though we left during rush hour, we barely encountered any traffic at all. The drive took about 2h45m, which is pretty much the normal travel time.

My theory is that the cold weather is sending people elsewhere. Maybe they're choosing destinations in the countryside or the mountains instead of the beach. It could also be because the holiday itself isn't until tomorrow. Thursday is the official holiday, and while many people take Friday off and turn it into a long weekend, plenty of others still have to work. Then again, the last time we came here during a holiday, we didn't hit traffic either. My friends were the ones who got stuck, but they traveled the following morning. Sometimes there simply isn't any logic to traffic.

To my daughter Melanie (May 2026)

 06/05 Chapter 544: Running Fast Along The Sand

You are not going to believe what happened today…

I’ve been a little absent lately because ever since I finally got the keys to the apartment, life has turned into complete chaos. The renovation with Thiago—the contractor I hired after hearing so many recommendations about him around here—has officially started. So now it’s demolition here, demolition there, paying people to haul away debris, meeting with the carpenter to measure all the custom furniture, deciding whether we’ll replace every door or keep some of them, shopping for flooring with my parents, choosing wall finishes, taking care of you, working…

My life is absolute madness right now.

But the good kind of madness.

Today I was at the apartment waiting for the workers installing the safety screens on the balconies, so I had to stay there supervising the whole process. And while I was sitting on the dusty floor of our completely empty new home, I opened my email.

And my heart practically jumped out of my chest when I saw the subject line:

“Congratulations! DOL has approved your Labor Certification.”

There was NO way.

I genuinely thought it would still take at least another two months.

And the best part?

IT WAS APPROVED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I reread the email carefully about ten times because I couldn’t even process what I was seeing.

The first person I called was your dad. He was happy for me—for all of us, really—but of course he immediately told me to calm down because this was only one step of the process and there could still be surprises ahead and blah blah blah.

I know he worries about me getting my hopes crushed again because, when it comes to the United States, life has already disappointed me more than once. But this time… I really believe it’s going to work out.

Then I called my mother, who immediately panicked and thought I was about to move there right now—especially with the new apartment and all. I had to explain that no, it would still take time, I was just incredibly happy that this first major stage had finally been completed and that everything now felt more real. More concrete.

Like this is actually happening.

IT’S HAPPENING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I still can’t fully believe it.

My dream of living in the United States suddenly feels tangible now. Solid. Like something slowly moving forward instead of just a distant fantasy.

And for once, the news was good. Hopeful.

When I got home, I paid the remaining balance—the biggest payment yet—which was a little over seventeen thousand dollars. I also paid for premium processing, which was another little over one hundred dollars. With premium processing, you get a faster answer regarding whether your I-140 petition gets approved or not, which is another major step in the immigration process.

I had to decide and pay for the premium option that same day if I wanted it, so I barely had time to think.

But now that I’ve had a moment to breathe… I honestly don’t know if I made the right decision.

And not only because of the money—though yes, that too, because right now every cent matters with the apartment renovation happening at the same time—but because I’m suddenly terrified that the process might move too fast now.

I remember when Andreia Miel first recommended this company to me, it was because of a Brazilian man she met living legally in Orlando who also used BDV Solutions, and his entire process only took about a year and a half.

And the truth is… I don’t want ours to move that quickly anymore.

Not now.

I want at least ONE full year to enjoy our new apartment. We’re spending so much money, so much time, so much emotional energy building this home. I want to actually live in it for a while.

And honestly, I’m not psychologically or emotionally ready yet to move countries.

In my mind, I still had at least another three years before everything became real. But what if things suddenly start happening within months now? Especially applying with the Italian passport.

It would feel so fast. Too accelerated. Too rushed.

And rushed things usually end up messy.

Now I have to gather a mountain of documents and paperwork before the lawyer contacts me, and I find myself secretly hoping the process still takes somewhere between two and three years so we can truly enjoy our new home a little before starting an entirely new life somewhere else.

 07/05 Chapter 545: Can't You See All We Can Become?

I forgot to finish telling you about my sister’s situation—the whole story about my father threatening to cut her off financially in an attempt to “save” her.

Well… unsurprisingly, it didn’t even last two full days. Actually, it lasted only one, which, honestly, was still longer than I expected. After everything, they all sat down and talked again, and somehow things settled down because my sister agreed to start taking the medication. And in the end, that was all my father really wanted but at least she finally agreed to do something he asked instead of him simply forgiving everything and going back to normal without any change whatsoever.

Now… whether she’ll actually take the medication correctly every single day? That’s another story entirely. Because consistency has never exactly been my sister’s strength. She literally got pregnant because she was taking birth control pills in the most careless way possible by taking two pills one day, forgetting the next three. Basically a perfect recipe for disaster. 

So when it comes to medication and responsibility… let’s just say history doesn’t make any of us feel very optimistic.

My parents were always very soft when it came to parenting, especially my mom. But sometimes, if you truly want a better future for your child, you have to be firm about certain things, even when it hurts you too.

Take the whole situation of teaching you to sleep alone, for example. Those first two nights were absolute hell. The very first night was honestly one of the hardest nights of my life. Seeing you cry like that, feeling your disappointment in me, watching you not understand why things were suddenly different, it really broke my heart. But in the end, it took only TWO very difficult nights for us to gain peaceful, calm nights for the rest of our lives afterward. So yes, it was painful. For both of us, but it was a temporary sacrifice that ended up being worth it.

A lot of my friends told me they would never have the courage to do something like that. They said it was cruel, that they couldn’t handle hearing their child cry. And some of those same friends now have eleven-year-olds still sleeping in bed with them precisely because they never found the courage to go through that difficult phase. But then I wonder… doesn’t that become harmful too, eventually?

I think one of the hardest parts of motherhood is learning to think long-term. Sometimes love means enduring a painful present because you know it will create something healthier, calmer, and better for your child in the future.

Let’s take another example: taking away a child’s pacifier.

Of course it’s going to be awful at first. There will be difficult days, tears, frustration for both the child and the parents. But what’s the alternative? Let your child turn 7 years old still attached to a pacifier like I’ve seen happen with so many kids, simply because you didn’t want to deal with temporary suffering in the present?

At some point, the discomfort comes either way. Sooner or later. And honestly, I think the same logic applies to my sister.

Yes, the idea of cutting her off financially and forcing her to stand on her own sounds painful. Extremely painful. But what if that’s exactly what she needs in order to finally grow up?

To find a job that doesn’t involve working for her dad. To understand what it means to wake up early every day, follow schedules, answer to a boss, manage a smaller income responsibly, deal with real-life pressure and accountability. Maybe that’s the only thing that would force her to mature and finally become an adult. But do my parents actually have the strength to follow through with something like that? No. And unfortunately, they end up living with the consequences of that softness too.

People always say, “But your parents raised you the same way, and you didn’t turn out like that.” But that’s exactly the point: I am me, and she is her. Every child requires a different approach, and motherhood taught me that very quickly. Some children respond to punishment, others don’t. Some react better to being grounded, while for another child grounding changes absolutely nothing. There’s no universal manual for raising kids.

You learn through experience. Through observation. Through trial and error. Because even with the exact same upbringing, children are still completely different human beings, with different personalities, emotions, temperaments, fears, desires, and ways of processing the world. So as a parent, you eventually realize you cannot treat every child exactly the same. You have to learn how to speak to each one differently, guide each one differently, reach each one differently.

And honestly? I feel like I matured so much when I ended up alone in San Diego after my breakup with Caique. For the first time in my life, I was truly on my own. No one cooking for me. No one cleaning for me. No parents nearby to physically rescue me if something went wrong. And financially, I refused to ask my father for money because that adventure had been my choice, and I felt I had to deal with the consequences myself. That experience changed me tremendously.

I still remember the day the toilet overflowed and started flooding the apartment. I was completely desperate. But I had to handle it myself. There was no father coming to save me.

Honestly, all the situations I went through while living abroad could probably fill an entire book. But that’s not the point. The point is that Tayna needed a dose of real life too. She needed that painful injection of reality that, unfortunately, she has never truly received and probably never will.

Maybe, just maybe, life itself will force her to grow up someday when my parents are no longer here to protect her from every consequence. And God willing, that day is still very, very far away because I don’t want my parents’ absence to become the bitter lesson my sister finally needs in order to mature. That wouldn’t be fair to any of us.

08/05 Chapter 546: Rush Rush

Another important thing I forgot to mention is that on the 1st—shortly after I finally got the keys to my new apartment—my father casually came to me and said that since we had managed to sell the current apartment thanks to the sign I placed in the building saying buyers could contact the owner directly, the new buyer wanted us to hand over the keys on the 15th.

And of course… I completely panicked. The 15th? WHAT do you mean the 15th? That would give us barely two weeks to pack up our entire lives and leave. Absolutely unbelievable.

My dad genuinely thinks it’s easy to pack your entire existence into boxes within 15 days. Everything we own is here. Our whole life is here. The time frame was insanely short. And knowing him, I’m sure either the idea of delivering the apartment so quickly came from him, or if the buyer suggested it, he probably didn’t even think to negotiate for more time on our behalf.

But how could I even complain? The apartment belongs to him now, and after everything he has done to help me finally get my own apartment, complaining would feel unbearably ungrateful. So instead, I swallowed the tears and started mentally trying to figure out how on earth we would make it work.

Thankfully, my mom—being the incredible mother she always is—stepped in. Whenever my dad was calmer and in a good mood, she kept trying to explain how absurd it was to expect someone to completely move out in less than a month, especially considering the buyer knew my apartment keys had only recently been released. Everyone knows that after getting the keys to a new apartment, there’s still flooring to install, custom furniture to build, renovations to finish… it’s not like you can simply move in overnight.

And honestly, the buyer could afford to have a little empathy considering the incredibly generous way my father was already handling the sale. My dad allowed him to buy an apartment worth nearly five hundred thousand reais with an absurdly low down payment of only R$150,000, and instead of forcing him into a bank financing process, he even agreed to let him pay the rest little by little in installments.

And don't get me wrong tho, I understand his side. Just like I’m desperate to finally move into my new home, I know the buyer also wants his sister—an older woman and my father’s adoptive sister—to settle into the apartment as soon as possible. But still… a little patience would’ve been nice.

In the end, after a lot of insistence from my mom, my dad managed to negotiate with the buyer and extend our deadline until the 30th.

Thank God. I know it’s still not ideal, and maybe we could’ve pushed for even more time, but compared to the original fifteen days, those extra two weeks already made me breathe a little easier.

So now the mission is clear: Rush the renovations in the new apartment while simultaneously packing up our entire lives in the old one. 

Everything is happening at the exact same time. New apartment. Leaving the old apartment. Renovation chaos. Immigration process moving forward. Honestly… life has been asking for Olympic-level emotional stamina lately.

09/05 Chapter 547: Rush Rush

Today our dear little Rafinha turned four years old. His actual birthday is today, and even though the big party will only happen on Wednesday, Tayna still put together a small celebration at home for him too.

Originally, though, the plan was completely different. The main party was supposed to happen today, on his actual birthday. Tayna had rented one of those giant inflatable playgrounds and even hired a French fries cart, then invited family members, some of her friends, and all of Rafinha’s school friends, just like I had done for your birthday.

Not many moms were planning to come tho because saturday already had the school’s Mother’s Day event during the day, and two of the mothers worked full-time shifts that day. Others would already be busy with the school event too. On top of that, Serra da Cantareira is farther away from the city, which makes things harder for parents with small children. So in the end, I think only about three mothers had confirmed.

But then everything changed after my sister attended another child’s birthday party last week.

The party was at an indoor kids’ venue that she completely fell in love with, and apparently the price ended up being much better than she expected. So she suddenly decided to move the entire celebration there instead. She managed to cancel almost everything she had already booked except the French fries cart, because it had been expensive and non-refundable. So she decided to keep the smaller Saturday gathering at home for close family and friends, while moving the bigger celebration with Rafinha’s classmates to Wednesday at the kids’ venue.

But even then, only about three moms confirmed again. Unlike Saturday, the issue this time wasn’t the location itself, it was because the party would happen on a weekday evening, which completely disrupts many families’ routines. A lot of children sleep early, parents work the next morning, and the venue itself was actually even farther than Serra da Cantareira for some people. So in the end, many mothers genuinely couldn’t bring their kids, which made Tayna sad—but honestly, it was understandable.

Your birthday party was actually a huge exception. Pretty much all of your little friends came. The only one missing was Bella, but Renata had already told me Bella rarely attended any birthday parties, school events, or outings at all—it was just how their family operated. So her absence had nothing to do with the date or timing specifically. But besides her, almost every child from your class showed up. That almost never happens.

Anyway, we went to your cousin’s little birthday party, and in the end there were basically only you two as kids there. A third boy showed up eventually, but he arrived so late that we were already getting ready to leave.

The French fries cart ended up being a disappointment for me because the fries were those thick-cut ones—the kind I call “fat fries”—and I only truly love thin, crispy fries, which were basically the complete opposite of those. So I ate one portion, didn’t like it at all, and gave up and went straight for the hot dog instead.

Now, sausages are probably one of the most carcinogenic foods on Earth, right up there with processed ham. But honestly? Eating it once in a blue moon is not going to kill you. I eat sausage maybe once a year, if that, so I think I’ll survive. You, on the other hand, don’t even like it, so I’m not exactly going to insist on introducing you to the world of questionable processed meats anytime soon. You stayed loyal to your fries instead.

You and Rafinha spent a good amount of time playing together in the ball pit, but eventually both of you got tired… just like I did. Still, we stayed until after the birthday song because after all, I’m his godmother and you’re his little cousin.

Before the cake, though, they played a game from my childhood—one that my sister and I used to love—called “I Want, I Want, I Want.”

One person stands in front as the leader saying:
“I want, I want, I want…”

And then all the children yell back excitedly:
“What? What? What?”

Then the leader asks for something specific, like:
“A size 38 shoe!”
“A red phone case!”
“A cup of guaraná!”

And whoever runs to bring the item first wins the point.

Usually the kids play in teams, but this time Rafinha was the one holding the microphone and making the requests while the adults ran around desperately trying to find whatever he asked for. Which honestly made the whole thing even funnier, because normally it’s the adults commanding the game and the children running around—not the other way around. But Rafinha laughed hysterically every single time he requested something and watched the adults sprint to get it for him.

Afterward came the birthday song and cake, everything nice and normal… until my sister asked Rafinha who deserved the first slice of cake—the person he loved the most.

And without hesitation, he answered:

“Grandma!”

My mother practically melted on the spot. She started dancing and singing out of pure happiness.

Then your grandfather turned to you and asked:
“And if it were your slice, who would you give it to?”

And you answered immediately:
“Grandpa.”

And that man absolutely melted inside.

You and your little cousin truly became the joy of this family. The two of you brought light, laughter, warmth, and happiness back into so many moments that once felt heavy.

And today marks four years since the first little ray of sunshine arrived into our lives… followed five months later by the second one: you.

Thank you for making all of us so happy.

Happy birthday, Rafinha, my love.

13/05 Chapter 548: Here Comes The Sun

Even after getting the deadline extended to the 30th—thanks entirely to my mom convincing my dad to speak to the buyer again—I’m still sweating trying to slowly move our lives out of this apartment piece by piece.

Thankfully, my father’s old office building—a huge house that’s currently sitting empty—is now available, so I’ve started taking a lot of our things there. And when I say “things,” I don’t just mean furniture and boxes from the apartment. I moved all my client products there too, including all the packages already labeled and separated with each customer’s name.

To give you an idea, the main living room alone is now completely filled with client packages from wall to wall, which honestly made me realize how absurd it was trying to manage all of this inside our tiny apartment with barely any storage space. There’s simply no way to stay fully organized when you work with a huge amount of products while living in a small home.

It’s chaos. Now I understand even more why your dad used to lose his mind sometimes.

But anyway... today is about your little cousin’s party. It had finally arrived.

You went to school normally that day, but I picked you up a little earlier because the party started at 7:30 p.m., and the venue was far away. According to Waze, it would take about forty minutes to get there. And of course, before even leaving the house, I had already entered into a full-blown fashion crisis. I desperately wanted to wear the aqua-green cropped top my mother gave me for Christmas. I loved that top so much. But absolutely none of my pants matched it properly. The only thing that would’ve worked was a pair of fitted jeans—but all my jeans are wide-leg, and they completely clashed with the more elegant vibe of the top. So after trying practically my entire closet, I ended up wearing navy blue dress pants because they were the option that looked least wrong. But even then… something still felt off.

And the moment I got to the party, my suspicions were confirmed.Aunt Rosane, Fernando, and Giovanna immediately started making fun of me, saying I looked like I had “gotten dressed in the dark,” asking what kind of combination that outfit even was, calling it tacky. Sigh… Honestly, I probably should have changed clothes before leaving. But when I decide to be stubborn, I become unbelievably stubborn.

We arrived a little before 8 p.m., but the party still wasn’t very full yet. And from Rafinha’s classroom friends, you were actually the very first one to arrive. The only kids who had confirmed were Miguel, Caio, Maya, and Lívia.

Maya arrived first, then Lívia, and finally Caio. The only one who RSVP’d and never showed up was Miguel. Later we found out—from Lívia’s mother, not his own—that his little dog had gotten sick and needed to go to the hospital.

The very first thing you did at the party was get your face painted like Elsa.

At first you were mostly just following along without much excitement because you had slept the entire car ride there. When you woke up, you were still sleepy, quiet, and kind of out of it. But the second Lívia arrived, everything changed. Suddenly it was: “My friend this!” “My friend that!” You got SO excited. But I felt a little bad for Maya because I could clearly see that you and Lívia naturally gravitated toward each other and ended up playing mostly between yourselves. I kept trying to encourage you to include Maya more, but without much success, which is a shame, because I really like Maya. She’s such a sweet little girl—gentle, kind, soft-spoken. And her mom is lovely too. Lívia, on the other hand… I like her too, but she’s definitely a little menace. You know those children with strong “leader” personalities? The kind of kid who naturally takes control while all the other children orbit around them like little followers? That’s Lívia. She’s the dog. And you’re the little tail following behind her.

It was strange for both me and your dad to witness that dynamic because we were talking about it afterward and realized that, back when we were kids in school, especially in elementary school, we were usually the leaders of our friend groups. People followed us. Both of us were like that. At least for me, that only really changed around eighth grade. So it felt oddly unfamiliar seeing my own daughter so emotionally dependent on another child’s attention. So eager for someone else’s approval.

Toward the end of the party, there was even a moment when you came over looking all sad and defeated and told your dad that Lívia didn’t want to play with you anymore. And your dad, very gently and lovingly, told you: “Sweetheart, if Lívia doesn’t want to play with you, then go play with another child. Look, Caio’s right there, and you adore him.” And just like that, you went to play with Caio instead—the little boy you absolutely love—and not long afterward, Lívia came running after you. And that’s exactly how life works, most of the time.

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard from you or from other mothers that Lívia sometimes tells kids she doesn’t want to be their friend anymore or doesn’t want to play with them. And one day, if you ever find yourself in a friendship like that, I hope you remember this: If someone says they don’t want to be your friend anymore, the answer is simple: “Okay. Someone else will.” Be close to the people who genuinely want you around. The people who make room for you naturally. Never waste your life begging for attention, chasing after people who don’t truly value your presence.

I wasted far too much time doing exactly that. In friendships. In love. In life. And it’s humiliating. We do not need to live like that, and we shouldn’t. Friendship was never meant to feel like emotional begging. Stay close to the people who love having you near them. And believe me, my love, many people will want you around. You are sweet, kind, caring, affectionate, thoughtful, generous. You naturally care about others. Never stop shining because of someone else’s indifference. And always remember this: You are the sun—not the planets orbiting around it. Be the sun!

You don’t need to become a “leader” to matter. Just become the kind of person whose warmth, kindness, smile, and light naturally make others want to stay close to you.

Speaking of Caio… he is ridiculously adorable. I’m genuinely obsessed with that child because he’s so tiny and cute it’s almost offensive. And his mom is lovely too. His father, on the other hand, always looks like some kind of exhausted caveman—permanently serious, never smiling—but honestly, I barely see him. I mostly interact with Caio’s mom and grandma, who also came to the party and seems like the sweetest woman ever.

Toward the end of the party, Tayna asked one of the entertainers to start playing “I Want, I Want, I Want” over the microphone again, just like they had done at Rafinha’s Saturday celebration, to entertain the kids. And you children were having a great time… except for one girl who looked about twelve years old and insisted on competing alongside the tiny children. She was faster than all of them, grabbing every single item before the little kids even had a chance, completely ruining the fun. That’s the kind of moment where a parent should step in and gently say: “Okay sweetheart, maybe let the little ones play.” Buttttttttt… That never happened. So anyway.

At one point, little Caio came over looking devastated, almost crying as he climbed into his mother’s lap because he could never bring the right item fast enough to win a point from the “game master” on the microphone. And my heart shattered a little. So I quietly walked over to the entertainer and asked him if he could let Caio win the next round somehow. The next thing the entertainer requested was: “A CELL PHONE!” And instantly every child and half the adults ran desperately toward him holding phones in the air. At first he gave the point to another child—I don’t even remember which one—but then, a few seconds later, after Caio finally reached him with a phone too, the entertainer suddenly added: “And one point for Caio too!”

Sweetheart, you should have seen his face. His entire little face lit up. He jumped with happiness like he had just won the lottery, and a bunch of adults burst out laughing because the scene was so unbelievably pure and adorable. Something so small. Such a tiny gesture. And yet it completely made his night.

After that, he barely even cared about continuing the game anymore. He was already satisfied because, in his mind, he had won. Such a precious little boy.

After a while, you and Lívia finally started including Maya more too. There was this ride shaped like a cloud that moved up and down while spinning around, and the three of you went on it together and had the best time.

Then, at one point, the three of you ended up standing near the bathroom where there was this huge mirror, and suddenly you all started posing in front of it. I could not handle it. Three tiny little girls—three and four years old—posing dramatically in the mirror exactly the way my friends and I used to do when we were 12.

I took a picture of the three of you striking poses together, but your dad didn’t even want to look at it because apparently he is not emotionally prepared for that level of growing up either. Hahaha. Honestly, I just hope time decides to be a little kinder and slow down a bit. It’s so hard to process that the baby who used to kick inside my belly is now standing in front of mirrors posing with her friends like a little teenager in training. Everything happens too fast. And I am absolutely not prepared for it.

But the party ended up being really lovely. Even with only a few kids from your class there, you all had such a good time. Rafinha had fun too, and in the end, that’s what truly matters. The food was good, the desserts were delicious, everyone enjoyed themselves. And at the end of the day, that’s all we mothers really want: To see our children happy. To hear their laughter. To watch pure joy spread across their faces.

27/05 Chapter 549: Let's Keep Movin'

Sweetheart, I’m going to start writing from today onward now because I completely lost track of the timeline with all the apartment chaos lately. So here’s a quick little highlight reel of this month:

• Absolute madness trying to move out of the apartment and temporarily move in with my parents.
• Selling a ton of things, donating others, packing our entire lives into boxes, bags, and containers. Moving is EXHAUSTING. Truly exhausting.
• I created a group chat with the moms from your class, plus two former classmates’ moms, so we can organize little outings and activities for you kids together. And thanks to that group, we already have a June Festa Junina planned for June 20th with basically all your little classmates attending.
• I am currently racing against time financially.
• The lawyer is now reviewing all the paperwork and documentation for the visa process.
• Your father has officially started obsessing over a new topic now: fluoride.

After speaking to ONE single dentist who had a personal experience and told him she doesn’t use fluoride herself and doesn’t allow her daughter to use it either, your dad suddenly wanted us to consider switching you to fluoride-free toothpaste. And of course I immediately said no. Because let’s be logical for a second…

Fluoride toothpaste matters because fluoride strengthens tooth enamel and protects teeth from cavities. Every single day, our teeth are attacked by acids from food, drinks, sugar, and bacteria living in the mouth. Those acids slowly weaken the enamel through a process called demineralization. Fluoride helps reverse that damage by remineralizing the enamel, making teeth stronger and more resistant to decay.

Using fluoride toothpaste consistently has been scientifically proven to reduce cavities in both children and adults. It can even repair the very early stages of tooth decay before a cavity fully forms. That’s why almost every major dental and health organization in the world recommends fluoride toothpaste as one of the simplest and most effective ways to protect oral health.

Without fluoride, teeth are generally much more vulnerable to cavities, sensitivity, and enamel erosion over time. Good brushing habits help, of course, but fluoride adds an extra layer of protection that regular toothpaste simply doesn’t provide.

And let’s be honest:
You and I eat a lot of sugar. 

We are absolutely NOT the kind of people who can realistically live the fluoride-free crunchy lifestyle.

Your dad becomes stranger every day, honestly. If it were entirely up to him, I think he’d live in the middle of the woods, homeschool you, raise you surrounded only by nature, avoid deodorant, use fluoride-free toothpaste… I don’t know. Sometimes I picture those prehistoric people with wooden sticks fishing in rivers and communicating through grunts.

Very ancestral energy.

And honestly… the older we get, the more I realize your dad and I barely have anything in common anymore. Which hurts a little.

• Today you had your swimming class in the morning, and coincidentally Rafinha did too, which made everything much more fun. I switched your classes to mornings because the evening classes have become way too crowded lately, and when there are too many children, you barely learn anything new. I really want you to improve in swimming.
• And finally… today is Wednesday, and we officially have until Saturday to leave this apartment.

New phase. New life.

But saying goodbye is hard. It’s always hard to say goodbye.

28/05 Chapter 550: Memories Of Us

It's been two days since I stopped giving you melatonin because you were already showing all the signs of being genuinely tired at bedtime, and interestingly, it's also been two days of nightmares. For the past two nights you've been sleeping tightly the dream catcher your dad gave you, waking up crying and asking for it. I've heard that melatonin helps some people with nightmares, so tonight I'm going to give it to you again and see what happens. Tomorrow I'll have my answer. Then again, for other people it seems to do the exact opposite. The human body is strange like that.

We woke up around ten this morning, and I immediately started getting things ready because today was vaccine day. I know, sweetheart, having someone poke your arm every week is awful. Believe me, I understand better than anyone. When I was a child, I also had to get injections weekly for quite some time. I wasn't as little as you are now, but I remember dreading Tuesdays because I knew exactly what was waiting for me. But I swear that these injections are helping keep you away from respiratory illnesses and hospitals too. I do it because I love you. Because I never want us to go through some of the scary situations we've already faced. One day, when you're stronger and your immune system is more mature, this weekly nightmare will finally come to an end.

The sad part is that today, just when you were being so brave, the shot actually seemed to hurt. You kept saying you wouldn't cry and looked genuinely determined, but I could see immediately that this one was different. Even the nurse realized and said injections tend to hurt more in colder weather. I have no idea why, but apparently that's a thing.

Afterwards I gave you your traditional post-vaccine chocolate because we always spoil you a little after your shots, but then you kept telling me you were hungry. Before dropping you off at school, I drove around trying to find something for you to eat. It took forever, and when I finally found a place, they only had stuffed cheese breads, either chicken or sausage. I bought both, hoping one would work. Of course, you took one bite, saw what was inside, and immediately rejected them. What frustrated me was that after I painstakingly removed every single piece of filling, you still didn't want to eat. I lost my patience, and afterwards I felt awful. Food and health are subjects that wear me down sometimes, but that still wasn't a reason to be short-tempered with you. So, I'm sorry, my love. Sometimes I'm harsher than I should be, and afterwards I always wish I had handled things differently.

The rest of the day was spent doing what feels like my full-time job lately: moving. Back and forth between the apartment and the office, carrying boxes, filling bags, loading my mother's car. Moving is exhausting in every possible way. Not just physically, but emotionally too, and I'm feeling every bit of it. Tomorrow will be our last night here... My first apartment. The first place I ever lived completely on my own. The first place I ever shared with someone else—your father. The place where I spent my entire pregnancy carrying you beneath my heart. Where I woke up every morning imagining what you would look like. The place where you took your first steps, learned your first words, and grew into the little girl you are today. This was your first home.

And it doesn't matter that we're moving somewhere bigger, newer, or better. A home is made of memories, and memories are hard to leave behind. Your little bedroom is here. The one I put together entirely by myself with so much love. Your wallpaper, your pink furniture, your teddy-bear chandelier, your pink curtains. Every detail was chosen with you in mind. Now we're turning the page. Your new room will be bigger, but there won't be a crib there. No bottles scattered around. No pacifiers tucked into corners. No tiny baby version of you waiting in that room anymore. As wonderful as this new chapter will be, it can never hold the same history as this one. Only new stories. New memories. New versions of us.

It's that bittersweet feeling people always talk about. The excitement of what's ahead mixed with the ache of letting go. My heart hurts knowing we'll never truly live here again. This little apartment where I spent nearly four years raising you so happily. This is where your father came a few days before you were born and saw your room for the first time. I still remember him sitting in your old nursing chair, holding that large rag doll that used to sit there, rocking back and forth and wondering what you would look like and what it would feel like to become a father. He had no idea that he was about to experience the greatest love of his life. The love that changed him forever, changed me forever, and changed all of us forever. Our first home. We will never forget it. Thank you for everything.

29/05 Chapter 551: Can We Move On?

One of the busiest days yet, mainly because we only have until tomorrow to be completely out of the apartment.

I’ve been running around like a madwoman. Stressed, exhausted, overwhelmed. At one point, I even had a completely unfair breakdown on your grandmother. I got so nervous, so unbelievably nervous over something that really didn’t deserve that level of panic, that I ended up with a headache. It honestly felt like a vein in my head was about to burst from the pressure.

But that’s what moving does to people.

Moving is exhausting. It’s complicated. There are a thousand things to think about, a thousand decisions to make, and somehow it all needs to happen at the same time. If packing up one apartment is this stressful, I can’t even imagine what it will be like when we eventually move to another country.

I picked you up from school and we came back to what now feels like an echo of our home. The apartment is almost empty. The walls look different without our things. The rooms feel bigger, but somehow sadder too.

A little later, we went to Massa na Caveira, my favorite pizza place.

The last time we went there was special because it was the first time I had ever seen you genuinely enjoy pizza. Not just nibble at it or tolerate it, but truly enjoy it. You ate with enthusiasm, wanted more, and looked so happy doing it that I couldn't stop smiling. As silly as it sounds, seeing you enjoy food is one of those small victories that makes me ridiculously happy.

And today was no different.

I ordered my usual pizzas: brie cheese with passion fruit jam and the four-cheese with bacon. Your dad ordered the pork loin pizza, and you chose the tuna one. When the pizzas arrived, you absolutely loved yours, but what surprised me was that you also ate two entire slices of my four-cheese-and-bacon pizza. Honestly, I think you liked mine even more than your own. These pizzas are individual-sized, and by the end of dinner you had basically eaten an entire pizza by yourself. You gave two slices of your tuna pizza to your dad, but then replaced them with two slices of my bacon pizza, so the total amount stayed about the same.

You ate ferociously. Several times your dad and I had to tell you to slow down because we were genuinely afraid you were going to choke. You were shoving pizza into your mouth at a speed that suggested you hadn't eaten in days. You're definitely my daughter. You love that pizza just as much as I do.

At one point I tried to convince you to taste my brie pizza too because it's one of my favorites. Unfortunately, your father completely sabotaged the experiment. Before you even took a bite, he asked if there was pepper in it. I immediately said no. He didn't believe me and wanted to taste it himself first, but by then the damage was already done. The second you heard the word "pepper," your entire expression changed. You became suspicious. Then you took the tiniest bite imaginable and immediately declared that it was spicy. Which was impossible because there was absolutely no pepper in it. It was passion fruit jam. Sweet. Not spicy. Not even remotely spicy. But that's how powerful the mind is. The moment you became convinced there might be pepper in it, your brain had already decided what you were tasting before your tongue even had a chance to figure it out. It was actually a fascinating little lesson in psychology happening right there at our dinner table.

And of course, we finished the night the way we always do at Massa na Caveira: with the chocolate pizza. We always order half with strawberries and half without because I don't like strawberries, while you and your dad love them. So you two happily devoured the strawberry side while I stayed loyal to the plain chocolate half.

Afterwards we went home, bundled ourselves under blankets because it was cold, and decided to watch Totoro together as a way of saying goodbye to the apartment. It felt fitting somehow. One last cozy family night in the place that had been our home for so many years.

I actually wanted to watch a documentary with your dad later, but by the time we were halfway through Totoro, both of us were practically falling asleep. We were exhausted. After you finally went to bed, I got a second wind and told him I was still willing to watch the documentary if he wanted to. But he laughed and said he would probably fall asleep halfway through anyway.

I walked him to the door when it was time for him to leave, and I could tell something was bothering him. He had that look people get when they want to say something but don't know how to start. So I just waited. Eventually, he pulled out his phone and showed me a screenshot of a message I had sent to Camila and later forwarded to him during our latest disagreement about fluoride.

In the conversation, I was venting that your father always seems to find a new subject to worry about, research obsessively, and then try to convince me to rethink. Usually it starts with a video he watched on Instagram and suddenly a completely new debate enters our lives. Over the years we've gone through quite a collection of them already. There was vaccines, then milk and how apparently most milk is bad for you, sunscreen, deodorant, car seats, the number of toys a child should have, whether parents should clap and celebrate when their child accomplishes something, and now fluoride. I'm sure I'm forgetting a few others because there have been so many.

Sometimes I joke that if Instagram disappeared tomorrow, half of our disagreements would disappear with it. Every few months there's a new topic, a new concern, a new thing that supposedly everyone has been doing wrong for decades. And somehow, without fail, it ends up becoming a discussion in our house.

So I defended myself, and we ended up debating the topic. Not fighting, not arguing, just debating. The problem is that the conversation stretched all the way until 1:15 in the morning, and at one point I pointed out that this was exactly what I had been talking about.

I told him that if it's time to watch a documentary, a movie, or do something fun together, suddenly he's too tired and can barely keep his eyes open. But when it's time to debate one of these subjects, then somehow staying awake until one in the morning is no problem at all.

And, miracle of miracles, he admitted that I had a point.

Because that's really what I've been feeling lately. I told your father that nowadays every moment spent together somehow ends up revolving around one of these topics. Whether we're having dinner at a restaurant, sitting together for ten minutes, waiting during your swimming lesson, driving somewhere, it always circles back to one of these debates. And I told him something that was difficult to say but true: lately, it's not as fun being around him as it used to be.

I also explained that I actually enjoy healthy debates. I like exchanging ideas. I like hearing different perspectives and challenging my own opinions sometimes. But not every day. Not at every opportunity. Everything has a time and a place.

And tonight wasn't supposed to be about fluoride.

It wasn't supposed to be about vaccines, deodorant, milk, sunscreen, or whatever the next Instagram-inspired concern might be.

Tonight was supposed to be about saying goodbye.

Goodbye to the apartment where I spent my pregnancy with you. Goodbye to the place where we brought you home for the first time. Goodbye to the home where your father and I shared so many good memories, and some difficult ones too. It was supposed to be emotional, nostalgic, light, and meaningful.

Not another ordinary night centered around another debate.

In the end, though, we parted on good terms. There was no fight, no resentment, no anger. He went home, and I went to bed because tomorrow morning at nine o'clock people are coming to remove all the furniture.

And just like that, our final day in this apartment will begin.

30/05 Chapter 552: Girl, Dance The Song

Today I woke up and when I looked at the clock it was 7:48 a.m.. For a moment I thought about going back to sleep, but then I realized my alarm would ring in less than an hour anyway. The thought of falling asleep only to wake up again so quickly felt exhausting, so I decided to get up and make the most of the time.

I started organizing everything I could and actually got quite a lot done before, around 8:25, I heard little footsteps coming down the hallway. To my surprise, it was you. You almost never wake up that early. Never before ten, so seeing you up before nine felt almost unnatural but since the movers would be arriving soon and I knew I'd need to keep an eye on everything, I took advantage of the miracle and kept you awake. At 8:58 the movers arrived to take the furniture to the new apartment, and only a few minutes later the woman who had bought my kitchen cabinet showed up as well. Both arrived practically at the same time. What really saved me was Otávio, our building manager, who helped immensely by accompanying the movers up and down while I stayed with you. Not long afterward your dad arrived too, which was another relief.

As soon as they removed the refrigerator, I had to rush to my parents' house to drop off all the food because we wouldn't be sleeping there until that night. That simple errand took more than an hour between driving there, unloading everything, and returning. By the time I got back, I was already exhausted. Thankfully all the furniture had been removed, but the movers were still unloading everything at the new apartment. On top of that, they still needed to stop by my parents' house to pick up the refrigerator my father had given me before heading back to the apartment.

The problem was that we all had somewhere important to be. At 2 p.m. we wanted to be at your school's Festa Junina because your class would perform at 3. The movers only arrived at my parents' house around 1:45 and didn't leave until after 2, which meant there was no way my parents could both accompany the delivery and make it to the school on time. Since Thiago had already left after helping with the first load, someone needed to stay behind to receive the refrigerator. My parents were absolutely determined not to miss your dance, so they decided Bete, who was working at my parents' house that day, would stay there and receive the appliance while they came to watch you perform.

The plan was actually excellent. The execution, however, was another story entirely. Instead of leaving immediately, they somehow managed to waste time, and before they knew it, they weren't on the road until nearly 2:30. I was tracking their location on my phone and realized they still could have made it if it weren't for one tiny detail: I had forgotten to tell them that the event wasn't happening at your regular school, but at the larger campus. Suddenly I noticed their little dot on the map moving farther away instead of closer. I called my mom, who cheerfully informed me that they had just arrived. The problem was that they had arrived at the wrong school. Instantly everyone became stressed. Voices were raised. A few colorful words were exchanged. And with only 5min left before your dance, panic officially set in. I talked to the principal, who very kindly agreed to wait an extra 5', even though the invitation clearly asked families to arrive at least 15' early because the performances would begin promptly. It was incredibly generous of her, but unfortunately it still wasn't enough.

I kept following my parents' location and begged them to pull into the school parking lot and have someone else park the car because otherwise they would miss everything. But when my dad heard that parking cost R$30 and that he would have to wait for valet service, he immediately backed out and parked somewhere on the street instead. Then everybody started running. Running through the entrance. Running toward the event. Running toward your classroom. And by the time we finally got there, the dance had already started. So now it wasn't only your grandparents who were missing your performance. Your mom was missing it too. That is just great!!!

My parents actually started running at 3:02 p.m., so in reality they didn't get those extra 5' after all. But that's okay.

When we finally reached the gymnasium, the teachers had the children perform the dance a second time. It wasn't exactly the same, though. Later, when I watched the video of the first performance, I realized there were quite a few differences. For starters, Caio didn't dance during the second round. And none of you danced quite the same way you had the first time either. But honestly, none of that mattered in the end.

The moment Rafinha spotted Grandma, he ran over and gave her the biggest hug. Then he saw Grandpa and got so excited. He immediately started shouting your name to let you know Grandpa was there too. And the second you saw him, your entire face lit up. You and Rafinha both ran across the gym to hug Grandpa, and that moment alone made the entire afternoon worthwhile.

The tickets had cost R$30 each, R$60 total for your grandparents, and in the end they were there for maybe 3 minutes—the length of the second dance—before they had to rush back to my new apartment because poor Bete was completely lost and couldn't figure out how to find the place. So after all that stress, all that driving, all the confusion, and all the running, they barely got to stay. But honestly, I think those were the best sixty reais ever spent. Because even though they missed the first performance, even though everything went wrong, even though the day felt like pure chaos, they still got to see you. They still got to see Rafinha. They still got those hugs, those smiles, and that excitement on your faces when you spotted them in the crowd.

And in the end, that's what they really came for anyway.

After that, I went to meet my parents at the new apartment. While we were still at the school festival, I invited Tayna and Rafinha to come, and I also invited your father. I honestly don't know why. Ever since I got the keys, I had been intentionally holding myself back from inviting him. My plan was to only show him the apartment once everything was finished. But today, for some reason, it slipped out. I wanted him to see it. To see the progress, the construction, everything that had been happening. And I genuinely thought he would be excited. Up until then, I had never invited him, so I imagined he'd be happy to finally get a glimpse of it. But he didn't want to go. He said he had too much work to do and finished by saying that he'd rather wait and see it when it was finished. Well, that's easy, isn't it? Seeing it when everything is already done. When the floors are installed, the furniture is in place, the decorations are hanging, and all the hard work is over. That's the easy part.

I know I felt really sad and disappointed, but more than anything, I was angry at myself for inviting him in the first place. I shouldn't have. I should have let him sit with that feeling of wondering when I was finally going to invite him. I should have kept that to myself a little longer. But no. I'm a fool.

So the rest of us went instead, and you immediately disappeared into that amazing playroom with Rafinha. You two had the time of your lives running around while the adults talked about floors, walls, furniture, and all the incredibly boring things that excite homeowners.

A little later, your godfather took you out again. This time he took you to the mall and to Playland. It was him, Aunt Cuca, and Pietra. He paid for the rides, bought you ice cream from a really good—and expensive—brand, and spoiled you the entire time. Honestly, he's proving himself to be an incredible godfather. Truly.

The funny thing is that today you were exhausted. You were running on fumes after such a busy day, and whenever you're tired, you become shy. So despite all his efforts, you barely left my side. You didn't even want him to carry you, which is unusual these days. In the end, you completely crashed in the car and slept for almost an hour. By the time you woke up, you were still groggy and sleepy, and later that night you only managed to stay asleep thanks to a little help from melatonin.

31/05 Chapter 553: This Is The End

Today was another birthday party day. This time, the birthday girl was your friend Marina from school, who turned 4 years old.

I was the first mom from your class to invite every single child, and now it seems like the other moms are starting to do the same. Tayna did it for Rafinha's birthday, Marina's mom did it today, and Manu's mom already announced she'll be having a party in August. And I love these children's parties. I really do. Not just because I love the food but because I love watching you have fun. Seeing you happy is what makes these parties special to me.

Since winter has fully arrived, I dressed you in a long-sleeved Hello Kitty plush dress, but I also packed a lighter shirt in my bag because I know you. The moment you start running around, you'll be sweating no matter how cold it is outside. We wrapped Marina's gift and headed off to the party.

We picked up your dad and arrived around 12:45. In an attempt to save money, I parked about 10' away because I didn't want to pay for parking. I regretted that almost immediately because I was wearing boots with heels, and not only am I terrible at walking in heels because I've never really gotten used to them, but the potholes, uneven sidewalks, rocks, dog poop, and mystery puddles of São Paulo certainly weren't helping. I spent the entire walk stumbling toward the venue while questioning every life decision that had led me there. My irritation only grew when we finally got close enough for me to realize there were actually plenty of places to park nearby. In Santana, of all places. I genuinely felt like a clown.

Once we finally arrived, we sat with the other school moms while you immediately disappeared to play. The biggest surprise of the day was seeing Manoella's mother walk through the door. Your friend Mano had come! Even though she no longer attends your school, you still talk about her all the time. At the pool party, she was the friend you spent the most time with and clearly adored being around.

While the children ran around playing, the parents stayed behind talking. It was actually really nice. The venue wasn't large enough for all the parents to sit together, so we ended up split between two different tables, but everyone still mingled and chatted throughout the afternoon. Meanwhile, you continued your usual mission of trying to earn more attention from Lívia, who never quite gives you as much as you'd like and somehow always manages to leave you feeling frustrated. Even with Mano there, your focus didn't really change.

During one of the conversations, I took the opportunity to ask the other parents about fluoride. Thankfully, the response was unanimous. Every single parent did exactly what I do. I won't lie, that made me feel much better after all the recent debates at home. We ended up talking about all kinds of parenting topics, and before I knew it, time had flown by.

The party hadn’t even been going for thirty minutes before I realized that dress had been the wrong choice. The room was warm, and almost all the other kids had already changed into short-sleeved dresses and lighter clothes. Several times, I tried convincing you to take off your plush Hello Kitty dress and put on the lighter outfit I had brought just in case. It was completely hopeless. You refused every single time.

You loved that dress, and no amount of heat was going to make you part with it. You’ve always been incredibly vain in the most adorable way. You’d rather be a little too warm if it means feeling beautiful. 

About an hour into the party, there was a surprise, just like at your birthday. A princess made an entrance. This time it was Princess Aurora. Oh, Melanie... you should have seen your own face. It was priceless. You became so excited, so happy, so completely enchanted that it was impossible not to smile watching you. You looked at her as though the real Princess Aurora herself had stepped straight out of the movie and into the room. You were even more excited than the birthday girl. And  that's saying something.

Marina’s mom even messaged me after the party, telling me how surprised she was by how much you loved princesses. During one of Aurora’s breaks, you actually went up to her and asked where Aurora had gone. I thought that was the sweetest thing.

Even though Aurora spent most of her attention on Marina, you followed her around for almost the entire party. It got me thinking that if I decide to throw your birthday party at a venue this year and hire a character, I’ll make a point of talking to the people in charge beforehand. I’d want them to give you a little extra attention, while still making sure the other children feel included too. After all, the magic works best when every child gets to feel special.

When it was time to sing Happy Birthday, they played Aurora’s song and had her dance. She lip-synced the performance, and that was when I realized how much more enchanting it feels when the character actually sings. It’s a completely different experience. Still, it was beautiful. They also did the crowning ceremony, just like they did at your party, and I saw several women getting emotional. I was one of them.

After the birthday song came the cake, the sweets, and a pleasant surprise: cotton candy. The kids loved it, but honestly, so did the adults. Of course I grabbed one for myself. I almost went back for a second.

As I watched so many parents happily enjoying their cotton candy, I felt a small pang of sadness. They weren’t arguing. They weren’t turning a simple, joyful moment into a lecture about sugar, unhealthy food, or long-term consequences. They weren’t having the same disagreements that your dad and I have had so many times. They were simply enjoying the party. Eating cotton candy. Living in the moment. And for a brief second, I felt a little jealous of that.

By the end of the party, the walk back was even worse than the walk there because the sole of my boot broke. Both boots, actually. As if one wasn’t enough. And that upset me too—not because of the boots themselves, but because of what they made me think about. Your dad had seen how much I struggled walking on the way there, and things were even worse on the way back. Would it really have been so difficult to offer to go get the car and pick us up?

I didn’t ask. Maybe because I’ve always felt that certain gestures should come from the other person without being requested. They’re small things, really, but sometimes it’s the small things that hurt the most when they don’t happen.

After dropping your dad off, we stopped by the apartment to finish gathering the last few things. Cheila was a lifesaver and stayed with you, Noah, and Sophia while the three of you played together, giving me and your grandparents time to pack up everything that was left.

And then, once it was all done, it was time to say goodbye. We said goodbye to Cheila, Noah, and Sophia, and as we drove away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were leaving behind more than just neighbors or friends. I already knew how much we were going to miss them. ❤️