01/03 Chapter 379: It's getting better and better
Every day I love you more and more, if that's even possible.
I'll start by saying that today your dad took you to a park — kind of like Ibirapuera Park back in Brazil. It's smaller, but still similar in that there are people running, listening to music, having picnics, and plenty of green area. You two had so much fun together. Your dad definitely shines when it comes to energy and adventure. Honestly, I have zero stamina for walking around in the sun or spending time at parks... but he’s the adventurous one, and he fills in that gap perfectly for you.
You came home absolutely exhausted, and right after that, we headed to my parents' house to kick off our Carnival celebrations.
Oh, and there’s this thing with our parking space in the building — it’s really tight, with pillars on either side. Because of that, I can’t properly open the door to your side to buckle you in. So what I do is open the opposite door, you climb in from that side, sit in your car seat, and once I’ve pulled out of the space, I buckle you in. It’s become a routine by now. But today — I don’t know how — I completely forgot! I started driving out of the garage when suddenly you said, "Mommy forgot the seatbelt." I facepalm myself smacked my forehead and gasped, "Oh no! I forgot the seatbelt!" I stopped right away, gave you a ton of kisses, and thanked you for reminding me. Look at you — not only speaking full sentences now but also remembering something so important. Imagine if I'd driven off like that — heaven forbid!
You're turning into such a little grown-up. You’re talking in full sentences now, using the toilet, and even reminding me when I forget things! Plus, you have an incredible memory. If you’re playing with a toy and I ask you where it is later, you’ll walk right over and find it for me. Sometimes you'll even hide a toy inside one of your little carts and still remember exactly where you put it later.
Lately, your favorite treat has been ice cream. You’re obsessed with it now, even though you didn’t care for it before. Remember that trip to Santos? Back then, you weren’t interested, but now you can’t get enough! I recently bought a popsicle mold, and now I freeze yogurt in it or blend strawberries and bananas to make homemade fruit popsicles — just the way your dad likes it: natural and healthy. And you love them because they’re cold and come on a stick!
You know, sweetie, I’ve always loved babies. When my cousin Marina was born — Júnior and Débora’s daughter — she felt like an antidepressant for me. I was still heartbroken over Marcelo back then, and spending time with Marina really helped me. I’d drive over to my grandparents' house every week just to see her. But I always thought that once kids hit two years old, they lost some of that charm — not just Marina, but all kids in general. I believed the magic faded once they started walking and talking.
But with you, it’s different. Living with you every day has shown me that each stage is special in its own way. When you were a newborn — that tiny bundle under three kilos — you were completely dependent on me, nursing in my arms and creating this unbreakable bond. Then came the phase at three months when you started smiling and laughing — and every month since has brought something new and wonderful.
Now, we’re past two years old — the phase I once thought would be dull — and yet, it’s turning out to be the best one yet. Now you hug me, ask me for help, kiss me, tell me you love me, and even share stories about your day at preschool. You help me carry bags inside, hold the elevator door, and make me feel like I have a little best friend by my side — just in miniature form. I’ve loved every stage of your life, but somehow, it just keeps getting better. And I can’t wait to see what comes next.
02-04/03 Chapter 380: Here comes the sun
I thought Carnival would be a sad time for me, feeling lonely because of everything with your dad, but the days actually passed quickly, and I enjoyed them all.
On Saturday, we arrived in the evening since you’d been at the park with your dad. Sunday was lovely — we spent the whole day by the pool, and you had so much fun playing with Rafinha. It was so hot that you stayed in the pool until night, splashing around with your grandma. That day, you learned how to jump into the pool all by yourself. You felt confident enough to leap right into my arms, and once you got the hang of it, you didn’t stop — easily 30 or 40 jumps until you wore yourself out, though I was even more exhausted! While you kept jumping on me, Rafinha was busy leaping onto your grandpa. If I was tired, I can only imagine how drained my dad must have been — but every time we tried to stop, you both shouted “No!” and kept going. Later that night, you even jumped on your grandma in the pool too.
Monday was even more joyful when Noah and Sofia came over to my parents' house to join you guys in the pool. All the kids were playing together, but you and Rafinha weren’t quite in the same cheerful mood as the day before, so you didn’t enjoy it as much. Still, you played a lot, ate plenty of fries, and later we all relaxed in a warm bathtub. You showed the kids your toys and all our cats, which made for a wonderful day filled with laughter.
Tuesday brought even more fun when my friend Camila and her daughter Maria Fernanda came over. Danilo dropped them off and then picked up your dad to visit some friends. I was glad your dad wouldn’t spend the holiday alone in that tiny place he’s staying now, and this way, we could both enjoy ourselves, even apart.
That day, the weather wasn’t as nice, and the pool was colder. I’m like a cat when it comes to cold water — I stay far away. So I left early with you and Maria Fernanda to enjoy the bathtub instead, while poor Camila braved the chilly pool alone. Soon after, she joined us, and we had lunch together. At first, Camila wasn’t sure about the fricassé, but once she realized it was just chicken with a creamy sauce and crispy potatoes, she loved it — enough to get seconds!
You've really been surprising me lately. While watching cartoons, I managed to get you to eat braised beef, rice, and everything on your plate. Rafinha, who’s always been the better eater, is now regressing — he’s sticking to rice and beans, and worse, he’s starting to get tired of beans too, meaning now he just wants rice. Meanwhile, you — who barely ate anything before — are slowly improving and trying new foods.
After our lovely lunch, I took Camila and Maria Fernanda to a popular café nearby, where we indulged in sweet treats. Naturally, you devoured the Nutella cake and milkshake. No surprise there — your dad’s going to be disappointed, but you clearly inherited my sweet tooth.
Later, I drove everyone back to the apartment, where Danilo and your dad were waiting. We chatted for a while before they left, and I took you and your dad home. That evening was hard, though. You were really attached to me that day and cried so much when you had to go with him. It broke my heart — I almost cried with you. But as soon as I got home, I messaged your dad, and he told me you were already playing and had stopped crying.
That’s the hardest part of separation.
05/03 Chapter 381: To wish impossible things
Today, I picked you up from your dad's house, feeling excited because I knew you had school and one of your little friends' birthday parties. I remembered how much you enjoyed the chocolate cake at the last party, and now, surprisingly, you don't cry during the "Happy Birthday" song anymore. In fact, most of the time, you join in, clapping and singing along. But maybe that's just when you're not the center of attention. If it were your own party, with everyone singing just for you, I wonder if you'd still cry.
I dropped you off at school and went about my day. While I was at home, I got a notification from the school app with pictures from the party, and my heart melted.
There you were, surrounded by your classmates, all gathered around the birthday cake. Everyone had their little party hats on, and among all the girls, there was just Rafinha as the only boy — which made me smile.
But what really got me was your face in that photo. Something about the way you looked, sitting there with your little party hat, just melted me completely. Of course, I shared the picture with your dad, and it had the same effect on him. Funny enough, you couldn't even see your whole face in the photo, but that sweet little cheek of yours, and the way you seemed to be watching everything so attentively, made that picture feel so special.
Your dad and I started talking, and no matter what we've been through, there's one thing we can never deny: we created a wonderful human being. This tiny person, so sweet, so lovable. We were just completely in love — with the photo, and most importantly, with you. We are absolutely in love with you.
Later, I was scrolling through Instagram — something I rarely do — and I saw a photo of Priscila's baby, born in December. I haven't met him yet since she's waiting for the 3-month mark to allow visits. But in that picture, he already looked so grown up, like he'd been around for 45 months instead of just three. It hit me how fast life moves. I'm sure she's feeling the same way I am. To me, it feels like just yesterday I was pregnant with you — feeling you kick wildly inside me, preparing to go to the hospital, and finally holding you in my arms. And now here you are, with your little uniform and rolling backpack, heading off to school like a big kid.
Even though I love this stage — and I cherish every phase with you — sometimes I find myself whispering to the universe, asking time to slow down. I know it can't, but I still try to make every day feel like it lasts 72 hours. I try to squeeze every ounce of joy and love out of each moment.
I also find myself wishing you could stay this age forever — this sweet, tiny age where you mix up your words and speak in third person in a way that melts even the coldest hearts. Where your hugs are warm and full of love, and you want to be with me all the time. So dependent on me.
I know I'll enjoy other phases, and maybe one of my favorites will be when you're all grown up. But right now, in this moment, I just wish you could stay little. It's like when you have a kitten or a puppy — you know they'll grow up, but you secretly hope they take their time because there's something so magical about those early days.
I also hope it takes a long time before you hit that awkward stage — the one where kids aren’t quite little anymore but still try to act funny just to hold on to their childhood. Especially when younger babies start stealing the spotlight. Like when Cauã visited last month. We were all at the pool, and most of the attention was on you and Rafinha. Later, before they left, Cauã told his mom that no one cared about him anymore, that everyone only paid attention to you two. It broke my heart, but I get it. That stage between five and eight can be tough — kids trying to stand out because they feel overlooked.
I can't believe it's already March. This year, you'll turn three.
I remember when you were born — I was holding you, just this tiny little bundle, and Lula had just won the election. I remember thinking how far away the next election seemed, and that by then, you'd be four years old. It felt like a lifetime away. Yet here we are — almost three years later — and it's gone by in the blink of an eye. It’s almost suffocating how fast time is slipping away.
Oh, how I wish I could freeze our moments together. How I wish I could hold you as a newborn again. How I wish you could stay two years old forever — cuddly, sweet, and full of endless kisses and hugs. I wish I could always be your favorite person, never having to loose your love to your friends in your teenager era.
I know the day will come when I'll lose my place as your number one. One day, someone else — your child, or perhaps a partner — will fill that role. But no matter what, you will always be my favorite person in the world. My dream come true. My little bundle of love.
My Melanie.
06/03 Chapter 380: Something To Talk About
Today was a normal day. I managed to get my things done while you were at school. In the evening, you were supposed to spend the night at your dad's. When I picked you up and told you about it, you got upset and didn't want to go.
I had already arranged to stop by the tattoo studio afterward to give your dad a ride home so I could drop you both off together. But seeing you so upset, crying and distressed, hit me hard. This whole separation thing is still new and overwhelming for me, especially when it comes to co-parenting. So, I ended up crying too. As we neared the studio, I wiped my tears, hoping your dad wouldn’t notice. But of course, he did. The moment he got in the car, he asked what was going on and why we were both in tears.
Naturally, you told him you didn’t want to go to his place, which made him sad as well. We decided to head back to the apartment for a while to calm you down. I set aside my pride and the agreement we had about me no longer going to the apartment. In that moment, your emotions mattered more. We played with you for a bit, and eventually, Noah and Sofia showed up, which put you in a great mood.
After playing with them for about half an hour or so, your dad tried again to take you home. This time, he suggested stopping by the mall to let you play, and the word "mall" instantly changed your mood. You lighted up, smiled, and even said goodbye to me with excitement.
Later that night, your dad called me once you were asleep. I thought he was going to tell me about something cute or funny you did at the mall. But to my surprise, it was something else entirely.
He said he had taken you to an area with free play toys, where you made a little friend — a girl slightly older than you. Everything was fine until a younger boy, around a year and a half old, tried to join you both. The older girl, with her strong-willed personality, refused to let him play. Sadly, you joined her and the two of you started blocking him out. Your dad mentioned that the boy's mother tried to intervene, but it didn’t change much. He didn’t tell me if he had stepped in to talk to you, and honestly, I know I have a much shorter fuse when it comes to these things. If I had been there and seen you behaving that way, I wouldn’t have hesitated — I would’ve picked you up and taken you away from the situation immediately.
Hearing about this broke my heart. Knowing that you, my sweet little girl, my princess, had joined in to exclude another child really upset me. I understand you’re just a child and don’t fully grasp these things yet, but I believe kindness and inclusion are values we need to teach from an early age. If those lessons are overlooked, it’s easy to lose control of such behavior down the road.
I know kids don’t have the same sense of malice that adults do. In your mind, it probably wasn’t about hurting the little boy’s feelings — you were just following the older girl’s lead. But it’s something I’ll always be mindful of correcting whenever I see it. It doesn’t matter if you’re a baby, a toddler, a big kid, or a teenager — this is important.
Your dad told me the little boy kept trying to find a way into the playhouse, walking around it only to be blocked by you two at every turn. After several failed attempts and plenty of tears, his father eventually grew frustrated and took him away. Honestly, I can’t blame him. It should have been your dad’s responsibility — and the other mom’s — to step in, guide you both, and make space for that little boy to join. I didn’t even bother bringing it up with your dad; after all, you were with him during his time, and he handles things differently than I do.
I’m not writing this to make you feel bad if you’re reading this now, years later. You won’t remember that day — you were so little. But if you’re reading this and happen to find yourself in a situation where someone’s being left out or excluded, I hope this serves as a reminder. I truly hope I’m raising you to be better than that, and that when you read this, you’ll shake your head in disbelief, thinking, I can’t believe I did that. And not, Wow, if only my mom knew what I’ve been doing now...
It’s strange — feeling so sad and disappointed over something you were too young to fully understand. But I've always felt deeply for people who are excluded or made to feel unwelcome. Like I told you before, I was always that person who would reach out to the new kid at school, the outsider, the one sitting alone. I made it a point to befriend those who felt out of place.
That’s the kind of person I hope you grow up to be — someone who notices those who feel left out and makes sure they know they belong.
07-09/03 Chapter 381: Take A Breath
I woke up earlier than I expected, around 10 a.m. or so. I had planned to sleep until noon, then pick you up and take you to school. But your dad woke me up, saying you'd had a rough night. You’d been sneezing, coughing, and had quite a bit of mucus. Here we go again...
He also told me you had been crying a lot for me, so I got ready as quickly as I could and rushed to get you. Sure enough, you looked pretty worn out, with those watery eyes that always show up when you're sick. I dropped you off at school just long enough to run a couple of errands, then picked you up again, and by then, you seemed a little better.
We ended up taking a lovely nap together, and when you woke up, you were feeling much better. That evening, you played happily with Noah and Sofia at the park.
The night went smoothly, and on Saturday, your dad came over to spend time with you. Later that night, we headed to my parents' house since you'd spent a good chunk of the day playing with me and your dad.
When we got there, you did what you always do — snuggled up with your grandpa to watch cartoons and played with your toys. But then came the nightmare. Even though you didn’t have a fever, your breathing got worse again. Thankfully, my mom, my guardian angel, stayed up with us through the night, helping me care for you. We gave you multiple doses of your inhaler, setting alarms every 20 minutes at first, then every three hours. That's how our night went.
The problem was that by morning, your breathing still hadn’t improved, which was worrying. After so many cycles with the inhaler and your medication, we expected you to feel better. We started thinking we might have to go to the hospital, which we always try to avoid since it makes you so anxious — plus, we always fear the possibility of another hospital stay. Thankfully, with lots of care throughout the day, you started to improve. Your breathing wasn’t perfect, but it seemed manageable enough to keep treating you at home. We held onto faith — a lot of faith — that we could avoid the hospital this time. Faith is everything sometimes.
Unfortunately, last night, Aunt Meminha’s mother passed away. My parents felt they had to attend the funeral the next day since her family had also come to my grandfather’s funeral not too long ago. Life is about reciprocity, after all. I was only worried about my dad running into Admir — the man who abused me when I was 10. It had been incredibly uncomfortable when they crossed paths at my great-grandfather’s funeral, the only time they’d seen each other since everything came out. Facing that again would be awful.
Anyway, since my parents wanted to attend the funeral in the evening, I arranged with your dad to return to our apartment so he could stay overnight and help care for you. I asked for his help because the previous night had been rough — your grandma had to assist me a lot because you cried so much during your inhaler treatments. You used to be fine with them, even counting with me to ten before stopping. But since it’s been a while since we last had to do this, you’ve grown out of the habit, and now you struggle with it. Your grandma had to hold you while I administered the inhaler, so I knew I’d need your dad’s help this time. If he couldn’t, your grandma had offered to stay with us instead. Thankfully, your dad came to help.
Your dad couldn’t believe it — you’d been doing so well all evening, but the moment you lay down in bed, your breathing worsened. I can’t explain why that happens, but it always does. So we started the inhaler cycles again. Your dad went to sleep and didn’t wake up once to help — hahaha — while I got up several times to check your breathing, ensure you didn’t need another cycle, and prepare your bottle. You've recently developed a habit of waking up at least once a night asking for milk — sometimes even two or three times.
But the important thing is that things seem to be improving, and with great relief, I believe we may have dodged another hospital visit. That’s a big win — proof that you’re growing stronger, building immunity, and that we’re learning how to manage your treatment at home. We’re getting there, little by little.
10/03 Chapter 382: The moment is here
Today I received some wonderful news on WhatsApp that left me staring at my phone in disbelief for a few seconds. My mom, who was with me at the time, immediately noticed my expression and asked anxiously, "Did your visa get approved?"
I burst out laughing because that wasn’t even on my mind. "No," I said, still smiling. "Letícia is pregnant."
Letícia is my cousin. We weren't very close growing up, but as adults, she's the one I relate to the most. She's kind-hearted, married, had always dreamed of becoming a mother, and isn’t into partying or wild nights out (at least not anymore). She has a good life, stays away from trouble, and above all, she's incredibly generous. Letícia is part of a charity group I created called "Corrente do Bem," and she always contributes — and I mean always — often with significant donations. She's one of those rare souls who genuinely cares about others.
When Letícia invited me and her dad over to see her new apartment, she ended up sharing some heartbreaking news: she had lost a baby — her second miscarriage. It happened early on, but for someone who dreamed of becoming a mother, it was still devastating. And that's exactly why I always secretly hoped she'd get pregnant soon and see her dream come true — because I know what it's like to be in her shoes. I've been there. I know what it feels like to dream of becoming a mother. What she went through was something I was always afraid might happen to me. But unlike her, I was lucky. In the end, I had you. Everything worked out despite all my fears and worries.
So when Letícia shared her pain that day, my eyes filled with tears, and I hugged her tightly.
But coming back to now, my mom asked, "Why are you so emotional? It’s not about you." But it was about me in a way. I knew what it was like to want a baby so badly and to live with that fear of never being able to have one. After all that Letícia had been through, there was no way I couldn’t get emotional.
That's why hearing she was finally pregnant filled me with so much joy. And that joy doubled when she invited me to her gender reveal party.
I LOVE gender reveals. I could spend hours watching strangers react to discovering their baby’s sex. There's something magical about those moments. Plus, my own gender reveal party was one of the happiest days of my life. I wanted a little girl so badly that I convinced myself it would be a boy just to avoid disappointment. But then... there you were. I crumbled with happiness. The odds were 50/50, and luck was on my side. (Too bad you didn’t get that same luck with the 50% chance of inheriting your dad’s light eyes! Since I’m Aa too — your grandpa has light eyes — you were so close!)
Letícia said it would be a small gathering, just a few close friends and family. She told me she’d love for me to be there if I didn’t have other plans. Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Plus, Luciana is coming from the U.S. this week, so I'll pick out an adorable unisex gift for the baby.
The only downside? They chose names I'm not crazy about. Like gender reveals, I love hearing what people name their babies. But I have a soft spot for unique names — something that gives a child a distinct identity. They chose Maria Alice and João Lucas. Probably two of the most common names in Brazil. And on top of that, they’re compound names, which I can’t stand. It always feels like parents couldn’t decide between two names and just mashed them together.
I joke that in Brazil, compound names are either given by very poor families (and that’s when things get really wild, with names like Iasminn Karolyna, Rannielly Alyce, or Enzo Patricky — complete with chaotic spelling) or by very wealthy families. Anyway, it’s just a funny observation... I’m a little weird like that.
I'm secretly rooting for a girl, and I know they are too because Letícia once told me so. Especially since her brother Lucas has two boys already. It’s time for a granddaughter to brighten the family and a little playmate for you. Out of the last five babies born in the family, there have been four boys and just you as the lone girl. It's about time you had a little friend!
Oh, btw, today was the first day you hugged me and said "te amo". I couldn't believe it. Best birthday present ever.
11/03 Chapter 382: Wouldn't change a thing
My Birthday.
Mom is turning 32. Just thinking about how I was 28 when I got pregnant with you, and now I'm well into my thirties, gives me this strange mix of butterflies and fear.
This year, my birthday started early—the night before, actually. Since you were getting sleepy, and I really wanted to celebrate with you, I moved things up a few hours. Around 10 p.m., we sang "Happy Birthday." I had ordered two chocolate cupcakes and two candles, and my plan is to record this little tradition every year: us singing together, watching ourselves change over time—you growing older, and me, well... also growing older. The video turned out adorable, better than I could have hoped.
In my family, we always had this tradition of waiting until midnight to hug each other and say "Happy Birthday." Sometimes, they'd even surprise us with a simple breakfast in bed. Even now, living in different homes, we still call each other right at midnight to keep the tradition alive. I want to keep that tradition going with you too. But since you were so sleepy (and still too young to remember), I decided to start early this year. Just this once, okay? Next year, you'll be a little older and can probably handle staying up until midnight for Mom's big moment.
You sang with me, though you were a bit too excited to focus—you kept poking the cupcake with your finger the whole time. Afterward, we enjoyed the treats together. You were so happy and full of energy that you ended up staying awake until almost midnight anyway! If we'd just waited, it would've worked out perfectly. But oh well.
Once you were asleep, I cozied up on the couch to watch Manifest, a series I've recently gotten into and really enjoy. Later, the birthday calls started coming in. Surprisingly, the first one was from your dad, before even my parents called.
The morning after was even better. My friend Camila did something incredibly thoughtful—something I'd never experienced before. She sent a breakfast basket to my apartment. Since I was still asleep and too lazy to answer the intercom (I had no idea I was being surprised!), Camila ended up calling your dad, who then reached out to Sheila to pick up the basket from the building's front desk. When I finally woke up, Sheila brought it over. I checked my phone and saw Camila’s messages—she had been in total panic, worried her surprise was going to be wasted. Poor thing! But hey, I had no idea. Not my fault, right?
I was so touched by her gesture. The basket was full of amazing goodies: croissants, puff pastries, heart-shaped cheese, salami, carrot cake... so many delicious things. But you? You had no interest in any of it! Not even the chocolate-covered carrot cake grabbed your attention. You only went for the cheese bread. Meanwhile, I practically devoured the whole basket (except for the grape juice and some fruit, since I don’t eat grapes or cherries).
Afterward, I took you to school, came home, tackled some chores, and spent the afternoon relaxing. I caught up on my series, watched a movie, and just enjoyed the calm. And honestly, I spent a good part of the day feeling grateful to Camila. Sometimes we expect thoughtful gestures like that from our partners, but then a friend steps in and surprises you with a kindness that warms your heart even more.
The real fun happened that evening, though. Our whole family, along with my grandparents, went out to my favorite pizza place, Massa na Caveira. My dad generously treated everyone as his gift to me. We grabbed a big table inside and started the delicious pizza feast. I tried every flavor I wanted and loved them all, but my favorites are still the brie cheese pizza and the four-cheese with bacon.
The biggest surprise? You actually ate quite a bit, especially the tuna pizza with your dad. Everyone enjoyed themselves, and we spent about three hours chatting away.
At first, you and Rafinha kept busy coloring and playing with building blocks. But soon enough, you both started fighting over the blocks, getting frustrated with each other. In the end, we had to pull out a phone with cartoons just to get a bit of peace so we could eat in peace.
We wrapped up the evening with hugs and another round of "Happy Birthday." Honestly, my birthdays usually come with some hiccup or drama, and this one wasn’t perfect either. Your dad and I are separated, and things are still a bit complicated. But despite all that, this birthday came pretty close to perfect—so close that I wouldn’t change a thing.
13/03 Chapter 384: Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken
Today, I had to have a serious talk with your dad and set some boundaries that should have been established a long time ago. I let it out.
Yesterday, I mentioned that I had received a breakfast basket that included some fruit. I don’t eat fruit, and it came with grapes and cherries. Since you had never tried cherries before, and because you generally like fruit, I thought I’d get you to try one after dinner. But getting you to taste something new always requires some kind of bargain or reward that benefits you. So, I told you that if you tried the cherry—which you absolutely refused to do at first—I’d give you an M&M, one of your favorites. You even asked if it could be a blue one, and I said yes, as long as you tried the cherry.
Of course, your dad jumped in right away, criticizing me. He went on about how chocolate is full of artificial coloring and how I shouldn’t have done that, blah blah blah. But guess what? You tried the cherry, you liked it, and I gave you the chocolate—whether he liked it or not. It was just one tiny M&M.
Now, there’s one more fruit added to your routine, a new flavor you’re willing to eat whenever you see it—all in exchange for a tiny piece of chocolate. To me, that was a fantastic trade-off. But to your dad? Not so much. He jumped in with criticism instead of seeing the bigger picture.
That led to my talk with him. I reminded him that although I struggle to stand firm sometimes, we had agreed that he wouldn’t come to the apartment anymore. We had decided that each of us would spend time with you separately on our designated days. Yet here we are again, back to him visiting all the time, just like before. The arrangement lasted maybe a week or two before things went back to the old routine.
I told him that as long as I'm the one taking care of you in my home, on my days, he doesn’t get to tell me what I can or can’t do. It’s the same way I don’t interfere when you’re at his place. For example, I only allow you to have your pacifier at bedtime, but if he lets you use it during the day when you're with him, there's nothing I can do about it. It's his house, his time with you. I can’t drag him to court over something like that—just like he can’t tell me what to do in my home. It's like he keeps trying to "fix" me or fix what he thinks I do wrong.
I reminded him that he left this house for a reason—our different ways of thinking—and he can’t just walk back in and try to control things. He doesn’t get to come over nearly every day, criticize me the same way he did when we were together, and expect me to put up with it. I told him that I’m the one losing out here. I lost my husband, my partner. I lost those quiet evenings spent together, watching a movie or just enjoying each other’s company. All I’m left with now are the same judgments and criticism, but none of the good parts. That’s not fair. If he wants to keep coming over, he needs to respect my parenting decisions. I think he understood, but... we’ll see.
Now, let’s talk about you.
You’ve learned to say, “It hurts a lot!” You were already a little dramatic, but now, every time you bump something or get a scrape, you say it with such seriousness: "Mommy, it hurts a lot." It’s so funny I can’t help but smile.
You’re also eating so much better now! Even if it takes a little bribery sometimes, you’re more open to trying new things. At dinner, you trust me completely. Whatever I put on your plate, you eat without question. Sure, if you dislike something, you let me know, but you no longer study every bite like you’re investigating a crime scene.
And the sweetest part? You’ve learned to say, “I love you more.” The cutest thing in the world. Every day, you just keep getting more and more adorable.
14/03 Chapter 385: Some time off
Today was my cousin Giovanna's birthday. Luckily, I never had to share my birthday with her.
She invited all her cousins over to celebrate, and, of course, half of them are my cousins too, since they're from my aunt's side. The plan was to have pizza at her place, but then she changed it to a spread of Brazilian snacks—things like esfihas, croquettes, and coxinhas, the kind of treats that are super popular here.
To my surprise, your dad actually wanted to go, so the three of us headed over to my aunt and uncle’s house. As usual, you were shy in a new environment, keeping to yourself—until your cousin Rafinha woke up. He had been napping, unlike you, who never seems to stop. But the moment he was up, you started to relax, and soon we were all playing together. Your favorite game was "the wolf," where I pretended to be one, chasing you both as you screamed and laughed, running away.
Later in the evening, my mom arrived—the only adult invited, since she’s Giovanna’s godmother. My dad was invited too, but, unsurprisingly, he didn’t go. Getting him to leave the house is nearly impossible. My mom only went because she had to deliver a special gift—a beautiful ruby ring that she and my dad bought for Giovanna as a graduation present. A lovely gift.
The night went by quickly, but it was nice—relaxing, a little break from the routine. And even though I love routine, sometimes it’s good to step out of it for a bit.
You, of course, had some brigadeiros, but to my surprise, you liked the cake even more. It was a leite ninho cake—light, creamy, and absolutely delicious. You even asked for a second slice, which, naturally, your dad didn’t approve of. I wish I could time-travel and see if, ten years from now, he’ll still think this is such a big deal. Will you adopt his habits, or will you see things differently? Only time will tell.
I just hope he finds a better balance between healthy living and constant paranoia. Because, to me, it feels like he’s become obsessed—so rigid about what’s "healthy" and what isn’t. But when you're inside a situation, you don’t always realize it’s a problem. It’s like people with depression—they often don’t see it until it’s too deep.
His fixation on this—on food, parenting, health—has taken over everything. He sends me endless videos, articles, advice, constantly urging me to watch, to follow, to agree. And honestly? I’m exhausted. It’s draining me to the point where I feel like I’m losing whatever spark I once had for him.
Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe this is how we transition into being just great co-parents and close friends. Because if things keep going like this, I can’t see myself by his side in the future. It’s not the life I want—to spend my days obsessing over ingredients, scrutinizing every label, living in what I consider a state of constant anxiety. He doesn’t see it that way, and that’s fine. But I do, and that’s also fine. In the end, we just have completely different lifestyles.
And maybe—just maybe—he was right all along.
15/03 Chapter 385: Sweet like justice
Letícia and Lucas’ Gender Reveal Party!
The invitation said 3:00 PM, but I wasn’t sure if that was when the party started or when the actual reveal would happen. Usually, it means the party, but I didn’t want to take any chances—so I was the first one to arrive. Right on time.
My uncle Décio’s family home is absolutely stunning—huge, with a pool, and everything was decorated beautifully for the occasion. The gender reveal setup? Adorable. And the dessert table? A masterpiece.
Each treat was prettier than the next, and I could hardly wait for the party to end just so I could sneak one of each. Which, of course, is exactly what I did. A cupcake, a brigadeiro, a white chocolate cone with decorations, a giant lollipop that looked like it had a filling, a honey cake—you name it, I took it.
I was mesmerized by the decorations, and, of course, I was rooting for a girl. Like I told you before, we’ve had way too many boys in the family lately, and I knew Letícia had always dreamed of having a little girl. Her whole family was hoping for one too—after all, her famoly already had two boys.
A fun detail was that they had pink and blue mugs, and everyone had to pick one based on their guess. Your dad grabbed a blue one, and I picked pink. It made me think back to my own gender reveal—your dad was convinced you were a girl, and I was sure you were a boy. And, funny enough, Letícia and her husband were the same way—she thought it was a boy, and he was certain it was a girl.
Though, to be honest, back then, I didn’t actually know what I believed. Maybe I was just preparing myself, trying to convince my brain to accept it if you were a boy—so that if you were, I wouldn’t be disappointed. I didn’t want to believe that my dream of having a little girl would actually come true.
Anyway, back to the party—there were appetizers I’d never seen in my life. Your dad had to tell me which ones I’d probably like. One of them looked like it was pistachio-flavored, but it turned out to be avocado—my first time ever eating avocado! And then, finally, at 5:00 PM, the big reveal happened.
Everything was picture-perfect—the kind of party you’d expect from a wealthy family. And the moment was just as grand as the setting. When the reveal happened, the excitement was overwhelming—it’s a girl! Maria Alice is on her way!
She’s going to be here to play with you. A baby already so loved, so wanted. I got emotional, of course—a few tears slipped out—and I went to hug Letícia, wishing her all the happiness in the world. Her dream was coming true after two big losses, after grieving and going through a hard path, now the world was doing her justice - a sweet justice.
After the reveal, they had a pizza buffet, but your dad had to leave early for a tattoo appointment, so he only had two slices. A shame, really, because the pizza was really good. So, it was just the two of us for the rest of the night. We chatted with everyone—Letícia, Daisy, Décio. They all made sure we felt welcome, and not once did I feel alone.
Actually, with you by my side, how could I ever feel alone?
And, of course, I kept stealthily swiping more desserts from the beautifully decorated table. Later, they brought out new sweets where the appetizers had been at the start of the party. Those were probably from the buffet, but honestly? They didn’t even come close to the ones from the decorated table. I didn’t like a single one. But once I got home and finally dug into the desserts I had taken from the main table? One was better than the next. And let’s not forget—I still have more to enjoy tomorrow.
It was a happy day. A day when two people’s dreams came true. A day of celebration, of discovering a little princess was on the way. A day filled with food, laughter, and joy. And then, as if it wasn’t already great enough, we headed straight to Serra, where your fun continued.
16-19/03 Chapter 386: Oceans apart, day after day
Today I picked up my dear friend Raquel at the Tucuruvi subway station. She came all the way from Jaú to spend a few days with us before heading to her dad’s place to celebrate his birthday.
Before diving into the story of our friendship, I want to share a bit about the time we spent together over these past three days.
I picked her up near our apartment, by the Tucuruvi metro station, and we went straight to my parents’ house. I left you in their care for a little while so I could head into São Paulo to pick up my friend.
When we got back, you were exactly how you always are around someone “new” — incredibly shy. Quiet, reserved, not saying a word. That’s just your way. You usually stay silent, but if the person gives you a bit of attention, you’ll start interacting in your own gentle way — silently offering a toy, then another, placing each one carefully in their hands.
And that’s exactly what you were doing with Raquel — who, from that day on, became “Auntie Raquel.” One toy, then another, and another… all without a single word.
As the hours passed, you started to warm up, little by little — and when Rafinha arrived, you were you again. Talking, laughing, running around, being your full, vibrant self. You even began interacting more with Raquel.
By the next day, you were already curled up in her lap, playing and loving her company. That’s just how Raquel is — she finds a way into your heart so quickly, it’s almost magic.
You two spent ages playing in your little pink playhouse, the one Grandpa bought for you. Cooking pretend meals, serving her tiny dishes with the sweetest seriousness. It was such a gift for me — while I worked on packing my clients’ orders, Raquel kept you company. And it truly was a win-win. She loved being with you just as much as you loved being with her.
That same evening, we headed back to the apartment and the fun continued there. Raquel slept in your room, and I had you sleep with me so she could have a bed all to herself and get a good night’s rest.
Raquel and I ended up watching a comedy that was actually pretty good — old dads — which is rare these days, with so many comedies feeling watered down by all the political correctness.
The next morning, she helped me get you ready, and we took you to school together. We spent the rest of the day side by side. I even took her to visit the orphanage, but of course, the person in charge happened to be busy that day. We waited around for a while, but eventually gave up and headed back home. And of course, she came with me to pick you up from school — both of you loving every second of it.
That night, you were supposed to sleep at your dad’s place, but he made an exception, knowing it was Raquel’s last day here. He wanted you two to have a little more time together, which I thought was really kind of him.
So we all went out for pastel. I wanted Raquel to try this amazing place that just opened nearby. Their pastel is so good. Unfortunately, I have a feeling it won’t be around much longer — it’s always so empty, despite how great the food is. :(
We had such a lovely evening together, but then morning came — and with it, time for Auntie Raquel to leave. She helped me take you to school one last time, gave you a warm goodbye, and then I had to say goodbye to my dear friend too… not knowing when we’d see each other again.
But the sweetest part? That night, when you came home and started crying because you missed her. You wanted Auntie Raquel.
Your godmother, by the way, got jealous — she even texted me saying she’s never seen you cry when she leaves!
That’s just who Raquel is. Warm, thoughtful, always ready to help. Kids feel that. They know when someone’s heart is genuine, and she finds her way into theirs so quickly.
And speaking of kids… there’s something that’s been weighing on me a bit — and it has to do with her.
Ever since I got pregnant with you, Raquel has been with her current partner — Maykon — who, by the way, came to meet you when you were just a newborn. And even back then, they were already trying to have a baby. But since 2022, nothing.
She told me they've been trying ever since, but without success. She believes the issue isn’t with her — her doctor says that, because her cycle is so regular, it would be unlikely. In fact, doctors usually start by investigating the man in these cases. Maykon has done some bloodwork and hormone tests, but the one exam that really matters — the sperm analysis, which your dad actually had to do twice — he refuses to take. Raquel says he’s afraid of what the results might show. And I get it. It's scary.
But sometimes the problem is something small, like a varicocele — which your dad had — and that can be easily fixed with a simple surgery. The longer he waits, the more time they could be losing over something that’s completely treatable.
And it breaks my heart to see her going through this, because I know exactly how it feels — the desperation of wanting to be a mother while hearing your biological clock ticking louder and louder. For men, it’s so much easier. They don’t have that pressure inside them. They can become fathers at 85 if they want to. But for women, once we hit 35, things start getting complicated.
And Raquel, just like me, has always wanted to be a mother. She was born to be one — you can see it in the way she is.
She told me that if it doesn’t work out with Maykon, she’s giving up. She just doesn’t have the energy to start over with someone new. And I get that. In a relationship, you invest time — a lot of it. For someone to truly get to know you, to understand your quirks, your likes and dislikes, to start accepting you fully… it takes effort. From both sides. Starting over from scratch is just… exhausting.
I’ve felt that too. Honestly, I still do. After things didn’t work out with your dad, I’ve made peace with never wanting to be in a relationship again. So I completely understand what she meant.
I asked her about artificial insemination — maybe with a donor, if it turns out Maykon can’t — but she said he wouldn’t go for that. And when I mentioned adoption, her answer was exactly what mine would’ve been: she wants to carry her own child. On top of that, she has the same fear I do — the fear of genetics. Here in Brazil, most children available for adoption come from really difficult backgrounds, and often carry heavy genetic histories. And that’s a big, complicated risk. I know a few cases and it's heartbreaking.
Lately, she’s even started to come to terms with the possibility that she might never become a mother — and that breaks my heart. I’ve been where she is. I’ve felt that longing, that ache. I know exactly what it’s like to want what she wants so deeply.
It worked out for my cousin Letícia, and now I’m holding onto hope that Raquel will be next.
And when it happens — because I do believe it will — I’m going to be so, so happy.
Now I want to talk about my friendship with Raquel.
Raquel and I have always been very close — for the longest time, she was my best friend, and I was hers. We went to the same school, though we weren’t in the same grade. Raquel had started school a bit later than most kids — while most begin around 4, she started at 5. So when our friendship began, I was 12 and in 5th grade, and she was 11 and in 4th.
Even though we were in different grades, I’m actually only five months older than her — the exact same age gap as you and Rafinha.
That little difference in school years never got in the way of our friendship. We were inseparable. We did everything together — from constantly hanging out at each other’s houses, to countless sleepovers and trips together. We went to Caraguá, to Admir’s farm, and even to Ximba’s farm, where we went to the Festa Junina last year. We used to travel a lot.
Raquel’s mom would let her travel with me for entire weeks at a time — we were that close.
We even took swimming lessons together twice a week. My mom would drive me, Raquel, and Tayna to class, and on the way back, more often than not, we’d stop by the McDonald’s right next door to get our favorite snack — the toasted cheese sandwich. That was our thing.
We really lived that friendship to the fullest. Of course, like any 12-year-old girls, we had our fights. Our little jealousies whenever one of us got too close to another friend, disagreements that sometimes lasted a day or even a week — all part of the package. But in the end, we shared so much joy, so many memories, and a genuine bond that made it all worth it.
There was always one big challenge between me and Raquel, though — a challenge called distance. And I mean real distance — an entire continent between us.
Her dad was working in Japan at the time, so Raquel lived here in São Paulo with her mom, her baby sister Renata, and her brother Rafael. But eventually, her dad decided it was time for the whole family to join him abroad. And just like that, my best friend was moving to the other side of the world.
I remember how much we both struggled with that. It had all been planned for a while, so we had a few months to try and prepare ourselves for what was coming. But those months flew by faster than we thought, and when the day finally came, the pain hit hard.
I remember that night so clearly. The night Raquel got on the plane to Japan, I was in my bedroom, leaning on my windowsill, listening to “You’re Beautiful” by James Blunt — a song that, because of that moment, became our song. And I cried. I cried and cried, not knowing when I’d ever see my best friend again… or if I ever would.
Time went on, and somehow — against all odds — Raquel and I managed to keep our friendship alive. Back then, it wasn’t nearly as easy as it is today. We only had MSN, as I’ve told you before, so our conversations happened through occasional messages. And I really mean occasional — the time difference between Brazil and Japan was brutal, and it was hard to catch each other online at the same time.
There was no WhatsApp. No video calls. Nothing like that.
I remember buying prepaid phone cards, which were so expensive at the time. Sometimes I’d get those international calling cards too, just so I could hear her voice. I’d spend a fortune for just a few minutes of connection. The credit would disappear almost instantly — you’d have, say, 100 credits, and the second you dialed Japan, the countdown would start like a ticking clock. We had barely enough time to say much, but just hearing each other’s voices made it worth every cent.
If all of this had happened a few years later — with WhatsApp, FaceTime, video calls — it would’ve been so much easier. But even with all the limitations, we managed to stay close. We kept our friendship intact. And it lasted. For a long, long time.
Even so, even back then — in a time so different from today — we managed to keep our friendship alive. Still, I can’t help but think how much easier it would’ve been with the technology we have now.
But then again… some bonds are real. And when something is real, nothing can break it.
Years later, Raquel moved back to Brazil. Her parents ended up separating, but both returned as well. Her mom settled in Jaú, and the kids went with her. From that point on, Raquel and I began seeing each other more often — maybe just once a year, but that was already a huge improvement from when she was living in Japan, which was… well, never.
Still, Jaú is five hours away from where I live. So it’s not exactly easy to meet up often — and to this day, that’s where she lives. In a way, distance has always defined our friendship. That, and longing.
But the beautiful part is: every time we see each other, it’s as if no time has passed at all. Like the distance never existed.
No matter how many days, weeks, or even months go by without talking, when we’re together, it’s like we’re twelve again. And we’ve always been there for each other — always.
Raquel wasn’t just there at your gender reveal or when you were born — she was the only friend who held your hand in the NICU. Something many family members didn’t even get the chance to do. We bent the rules a bit with the hospital wristband that gave access to your room — and somehow, it worked.
So in the worst moment of my life, my friend was there. Not just beside me, but holding my daughter’s hand.
That’s something I will never, ever forget.
And if you ask me, that’s exactly what defines Raquel — someone who is an even better friend than I could ever hope to be.
20/03 Chapter 387: It's just one of those days
Today was one of those days.
It all started with you waking up with conjunctivitis, likely a souvenir from our trip to Santos the day before. But not the painful, red-eye kind—just that version where your eye is stuck shut in the morning with lots of yellow discharge, but no redness or discomfort. Still, it clearly pointed to some sort of virus. When I checked the moms’ group from your preschool, I saw that four kids were also sick, with fevers, and one of them had the exact same eye situation as you.
To top things off, my mom went to get an estimate for the car—the one I’d scraped a few times in the garage. The total? Around R$3000. Great!
But the real highlight of the day (and not in a good way) happened when we were loading the car to take you to school, and it just wouldn’t start. I had a feeling something was off with the car for a while now, but it was actually scheduled for a check-up tomorrow. Of course, today is when it decides to give up on us.
So I called an Uber and took you to school myself, then came back to deal with the headache of calling the insurance, waiting for the technician to arrive, and hoping it would be something simple. Because if the car needed to be towed, I had no idea how we’d even manage that—being stuck in the garage, there’s no way a tow truck could get in.
Late afternoon, the service guy arrived and said that the battery was dead. He tried everything to jumpstart it, but no luck. It was clear we needed a new one. And of course, the battery for a Jeep isn’t exactly cheap—it cost over R$1200. I had to split it into ten payments. So yeah, financially, today hit hard.
But the cherry on top of this chaotic day? A chat with my neighbor. He casually let slip that there was a problem with the sale of the apartment—assuming I already knew, since I live here. I immediately called my mom, and she confessed: the sale had fallen through a few days earlier, but they hadn’t told me yet to avoid upsetting me. They planned to tell me over the weekend.
Turns out, an ex-employee of my dad’s company is suing them, and because of that, his name now shows a pending legal issue. The young couple’s lawyer advised them not to proceed with the purchase—even though my dad had provided proof of income, property ownership, and all the necessary documents.
By then, the day had already pushed me to my limit. And when I went to pick you up from school, for the first time ever, you fell asleep in the car on the way home—which I knew meant your usual bedtime routine was going to be completely thrown off. So what did I do? I sat on the floor and cried. I cried and cried and cried. The kind of crying that comes from weeks of exhaustion piling up all at once.
Your dad got home and saw my swollen eyes. He asked what had happened, and I told him. As always, he tried to soothe things, offer comfort, say something positive. But today, I didn’t want comfort. I just wanted the day to be over.
Since you'd been asleep for quite a while, we decided to wake you up. But, as every parent knows, waking a child comes at a high cost. Every child I know wakes up cranky—and honestly, don’t we all prefer to wake up naturally? But sometimes that’s just not an option.
You woke up in a terrible mood, and it only started to ease when Noah and Sophia came over to play. Even then, you weren’t quite yourself. You played quietly, without much enthusiasm, like you were still half-asleep. Only when it was nearly time for them to leave did you finally perk up and return to being your usual bubbly self.
What. A. Day.
22-23/03 Chapter 388: Life is short
We got an unexpected invitation to spend the weekend at Aunt Rosely and Uncle Toninho’s beach house, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. Rafinha had been sick for days, missing school, and my parents were planning to take care of him over the weekend to help my sister out. So, it worked out perfectly—it meant you wouldn’t be around him and risk getting sick.
The only catch? The invite came last minute, and we had already made plans for Saturday afternoon with Cheila, Noah, and Sophia. We were supposed to go to SESC, which is kind of like a family club—it has a pool for members and some public spaces like a theater, sports courts, a solarium, a playroom... I had never been because I’d heard it was mostly frequented by lower-income families, but Cheila insisted it was great.
Turns out… it wasn’t. There wasn’t much to do, and the playroom was a sad sight—just a handful of dirty, broken toys. As time passed, more and more kids flooded in, making it even more chaotic. On top of that, you and Noah were both in a bad mood, so we didn’t last long before calling it a day.
Back home, it was a mad rush to pack and hit the road. Your dad came along, and we made good time—Santos is only about an hour and a half from São Paulo. Still, by the time we arrived, it was almost 9 p.m, so we headed straight out for dinner at a pizzeria.
The pizza was delicious, but we tried not to linger too long because we wanted to get some ice cream before everything closed. Thankfully, we found a self-serve ice cream shop just in time to satisfy our craving—especially yours.
Whenever I go to places like this, where the ice cream isn’t anything fancy like Italian gelato, I make it fun by piling on toppings—sprinkles, cashew nuts, hot fudge, candy, you name it. It turns into this glorious mess that instantly takes me back to childhood, to the summers in Caraguá when we’d only get ice cream during vacation.
But then came the usual struggle. Your dad picked out your ice cream—something fruity—and wouldn’t let you add a single topping. And look, I get it, being healthy is important. But you already eat homemade fruit sorbets all the time in São Paulo. Would it really hurt to let you enjoy a proper treat just this once? A childhood without sweets isn’t a tragedy, but indulging every now and then is part of the fun.
I see life as something fleeting, something short, so we should embrace and enjoy. So, I want to cherish these little moments with you. I know we can’t control everything, but we can at least try to find balance and happiness where we can. Your dad, though, sees things differently. To him, every small decision today shapes the future completely, and he doesn’t share my belief that life is short.
But anyway, the next day was amazing. We had the best time at the beach. The sky was cloudy—just the way I like it. No unbearable heat, just the perfect weather to play in the sand all day. And when the sun did peek through, I could feel the warmth on my skin. I can’t even imagine if it had been as hot as the day before—we would’ve melted.
Aunt Rosely and Uncle Toninho treated us so well, making us feel completely at home. They even covered our dinner and put together a beautiful breakfast spread the next morning (which, of course, your dad had to comment on when you reached for a slice of chocolate carrot cake).
And that’s the thing. It’s always about your food. Like when we arrived, and Aunt Rosely, trying to be sweet, mentioned she’d made nuggets and fries just for you. And right away, your dad started in—about how Brazilians think kids only eat nuggets and fries. But that’s just an old-school mindset, and we don’t do that at home. So is it really necessary to make a fuss when we’re guests, staying with people who went out of their way to make us feel welcome?
Same thing with the cake. We’re all sitting there at the table, eating, and you see it—of course you do. And you’re just supposed to sit there and not have a piece? He says we have to learn to say no, but I think it’s much kinder to just not put something in front of a child that they’re not allowed to have.
Anyway… the trip home was smooth, but these little moments get to me. It feels like we can’t go anywhere or do anything together without this conversation coming up and ruining the mood. For everyone. Including your dad.
28-01/04 Chapter 389: Salty skin
We packed our things, ready to finally see our beach house for the first time. I was excited—but nothing compared to the anticipation my parents were feeling. They were so anxious, they barely slept the night before.
The plan was to head out on Friday. I’d stay until Tuesday and return with my parents, while Tayna, Rafael, and little Rafinha would go back on Sunday since Rafael had to work on Monday.
Originally, it was supposed to be just us—family only. But my mom couldn’t resist and ended up inviting my grandma Sonia. And honestly, I’m glad she did. We all love having Vozinha around. You and your cousin especially adore her company.
Even before we left, there were moments I felt a little sad… a bit off, really. It felt strange to celebrate this new house without your dad. But at the same time, he made the choice to live his own life. A lot of our arguments were rooted in the cultural gap between us, especially when it came to my parents. And since the house belongs to them, they’ll be around all the time—which, to be honest, would’ve made things awkward. There are so many things your dad frowns upon or just doesn’t enjoy. So, all things considered, maybe it’s better this way. We get to enjoy the beach without tiptoeing around or worrying whether something will bother him. And it spares him from the stress too. Still, it doesn’t stop it from feeling a bit sad that he isn’t part of this milestone.
We arrived in the early hours of Saturday—technically past midnight. I tried to keep you awake during the drive because I was worried you’d sleep the whole way and then stay up all night. But since we didn’t leave the apartment until after 11 PM, you were already exhausted, well past your bedtime. I managed to keep you up for about an hour and a half, but you eventually dozed off during the last stretch.
Your cousin Rafinha also arrived asleep, but unlike you, he stays out cold once he's out. You, on the other hand, woke up the moment we got there—wide-eyed and ready to explore. You played a little, wandered through the new house, and thankfully, it wasn’t hard getting you back to sleep afterward.
The house is beautiful. We were all so happy with this new family purchase. The living room, kitchen, and patio are perfect—already fully decorated and needing no changes.
Upstairs on the second floor, there are three suites. Tayna obviously took the biggest one—makes sense, since they’re three and we’re just two. I picked a random room for us and ended up with the second-largest, without even realizing it.
Tayna’s suite has three beds, and there's room for a fourth that we plan to add later when we start renting the place out. Our suite has two twin beds with a nightstand in between. So after I put you to sleep, I surrounded you with pillows and placed our suitcase next to the bed—just in case you rolled over, the suitcase would stop you. The nightstand also acts as a barrier on the other side.
Grandma’s suite is the smallest, but still cozy enough for two beds and a private bathroom. Looking back, I think I actually picked the best option out of the two rooms that were left.
What really surprised me was discovering a third floor—yep, the house has three floors! Sounds fancy, I know, but it’s actually a bit of a workout, especially for whoever’s sleeping up there. That’s where my parents’ room is. It’s the only room with a double bed, beautifully arranged and tastefully decorated. Honestly, it doesn’t need a single change. And their bathroom? The biggest one in the house.
That night, I went downstairs to sleep next to you and ended up falling asleep quickly. But I was also feeling a bit anxious—thinking about the house and how I could help get it ready to rent—so I woke up around 7 AM with my mind already buzzing. I immediately started searching for wallpaper ideas, soap dispensers, and little decorative items for the bedrooms.
Even though the first and third floors are beautifully styled and don’t need a thing, the bedrooms on the second floor still feel bare. They need color, personality—whether that’s through painted walls, decorative accents, or cozy touches that breathe life into the space. New bedspreads, throws, pillows… things that add charm and intention, so I can take great photos and list the house online. A well-decorated home makes all the difference. I know that because when I book an Airbnb, I always go for the cutest, most thoughtfully decorated places—even if they’re small. That’s what happened with the one we stayed at in Santos. It was tiny, but so charming and well put together that it felt more inviting than bigger places that lacked any sense of style.
I think a lot of people assume that since it’s a rental, there’s no point in spending on decoration. But that’s where I think most hosts go wrong.
The next day, we all headed to the beach, full of excitement. Thankfully, no one in our family is the type to wake up early and rush to the beach at the crack of dawn. We ended up going around 1 PM, which was perfect. The sun was strong, but nothing we couldn’t handle. We slathered you two with sunscreen and spent hours watching you play, laughing and running around in the sand. You built sandcastles, chased waves, shared a popsicle—it was the sweetest thing.
It was so special seeing the two of you together like that again. The last time you went to the beach together was in Caraguatatuba, back in January 2024, just a month before your last stay at Sabará. So it had been over a year. And that beach was nothing but pure joy from the moment your little feet hit the sand.
Since it was a Saturday, the beach was packed—and I’m really not a fan of crowded beaches. But I tried not to let it bother me. I focused instead on your joy, on the way you and your cousin lit up just being there, soaking in the sun and fun.
On the way back, we went straight to the pool after rinsing off all the sand. And to my surprise, the water was warm! I don’t know if the pool is heated or if the sun had been so intense all day that it naturally warmed the water—though I’m leaning toward the first option. The kids’ pool, which is actually pretty big, was nice and toasty. The adult pool, which is connected to it, was slightly cooler, but still warm enough to enjoy. So we spent some more time there, splashing and playing until the sun went down and the sky began to dim.
By the time we got back to the house, it was almost dark. We all showered and got dressed, because my dad wanted to go out for dinner and celebrate the evening—and that’s exactly what we did.
We headed out looking for a restaurant and ended up finding a pizzeria right next door. I was pleasantly surprised by how great the location of the condo is. There are two different gates: exit through one and turn left, and you’re already facing the ocean—just a two-minute walk away. Exit through the other and you’re right in the heart of town, surrounded by restaurants, ice cream shops, and even a little mall. It’s a small town center, but still, you’re right in it.
We found a little spot that was half-restaurant, half-pizzeria. It looked simple enough, but the pizzas were absolutely delicious. We were pleasantly surprised—and to top it off, it ended up being cheaper than many pizzerias in São Paulo.
We ordered a garlic, calabresa, and bacon pizza, while my sister and grandma went with margherita and mozzarella—two types I don’t eat. The place also offered a stuffed crust with catupiry, just like Mister Texas. It was so good.
Rafinha fell asleep before the pizzas even arrived. You two were exhausted. Honestly, it kind of worked out for the best—he can’t have cheese, and it would’ve been tough seeing him wanting something he couldn’t eat. You, on the other hand, were on the verge of dozing off, clearly bored, so I handed you my phone and played a cartoon to keep you awake just a little longer. But toward the end of the meal, my sister and Grandma Sonia were laughing by watching you—sitting there, slowly blinking, falling asleep upright. I told everyone to wrap things up because we still wanted to stop by the ice cream shop before heading home.
You’d both played so much at the beach, and neither of you took a nap in the afternoon, so by then, you were running on fumes—and it was getting late.
But the moment you saw the ice cream, you lit right up. Your eyes sparkled, and you insisted on getting the bright blue one. It reminded me so much of my mom—your grandma—on our very first trip to the U.S. We were in Miami, and she didn’t know how to order properly in English, so she just pointed at the ice cream and told the man, “Blue, blue!” And just like her, you pointed and picked the same color.
Meanwhile, Rafinha was still fast asleep, which again was a bit of a blessing—no dairy for him. You, on the other hand, were happily devouring your blue scoop.
As soon as we got home, you completely passed out—and honestly, I did too. I was out before 11 PM, which never happens. But beach days under the sun are already exhausting, and once you add a few hours in the pool? That’s the perfect recipe for total wipeout.
Even after going to bed around ten, you didn’t wake up until almost noon the next day. You were truly worn out. But what’s been worrying me is that persistent nighttime cough. You sleep fine, but then suddenly have a coughing fit that lasts anywhere from 10 to 30 minutes—and just as suddenly, it stops. This has been going on for a while now, ever since you had conjunctivitis. It started a few days after that, and even now, you still wake up with your eyes full of gunk. If things don’t get better soon, I’ll have to take you to the doctor.
Rafinha, since he knocked out around 8 PM, was up bright and early—around 8 a.m. Rafael stayed with him and kept him busy while the rest of us slowly woke up.
That day, you switched things up—you started off in the pool with Rafael and Tayna, since they hadn’t joined in the day before. Only afterward did you head to the beach.
You all went straight from the pool to the ocean, and later, my parents, Grandma, and I met up with you there. My dad had been wanting to take us to the far end of the beach, where a small river meets the sea. So we walked all the way down the shoreline until we reached that little river—and that day, you two played even more than the day before.
You snacked on a bunch of goodies I’d packed, and to my surprise, my dad spent over two hours playing in the sand with you both. He’d never done that with me or my sister growing up. There really is something special about the love between grandparents and grandkids, isn’t there?
During the first hour, while he helped you build sandcastles, I kept an eye on Rafinha. He joined in on the castle for a few seconds before heading back to the water to splash around. While you love the sand—sitting, digging, playing with your bucket and shovel—Rafinha is all about the water. But he was a handful! He kept bouncing between the sand and the waves, over and over again, for more than an hour. And, of course, every time he went into the ocean, I had to go with him. Kids can drown in a puddle—it's not about how deep it is. But since Rafael and Tayna had looked after you for quite a while, it was my turn.
Later, I switched with my mom and finally got to sit down and read my book. I actually liked this day even more—the sun wasn’t as strong as the day before. But since you were literally in the sun all day long, I kept reapplying sunscreen nonstop. Even so, you ended up with a golden tan—sun-kissed, not sunburned, thank goodness. Your little glow didn’t hurt, just gave you a sweet summery look.
To celebrate, I tried a pistachio popsicle from Bacio di Latte that I hadn’t had the day before—and it was so good. Naturally, you shared it with me. You weren’t about to miss out on that!
After some more playtime, we headed back to the condo and spent a bit more time splashing around in the pool before getting cleaned up for dinner. It was Sunday night, and Rafael, Tayna, and Rafinha would be heading back to São Paulo, so we went out to eat one last time together.
We chose a restaurant recommended by the building manager—he lives right next door and had become friends with your grandpa. The food was really good, but the prices were surprisingly high.
I ordered the only thing on the menu that caught my eye: a cheese risotto with filet mignon. But the steak came rare, and I just can’t eat rare meat. You, on the other hand, had crispy chicken tenders and fries—but in the end, we traded. You loved the steak way more than the chicken, and I much preferred the tenders over the rare beef. So it all worked out.
Turns out, you take after your grandpa and your dad’s side of the family—you like your meat pink. Me? I’m just like my mom. The meat has to be fully cooked. I can’t stand seeing red or tasting anything remotely bloody.
After dinner, we said our goodbyes one last time at the ice cream shop. This time, your cousin Rafinha joined you—and we were lucky enough to find a dairy-free chocolate flavor just for him. So both of you were thrilled, enjoying your treats together. And of course, you asked for the bright blue one again. No surprises there.
As for me, I did what I always do—piled on the toppings and made a complete mess of my sundae. I never learn.
We said our farewells and headed home for some much-needed sleep. We were all exhausted.
Monday and Tuesday were much quieter. We spent most of the time helping my parents around the house. I took you to the beach for a bit, then to the pool, and in the afternoons we’d nap together. Those last two days, with your cousin already back in São Paulo, you actually napped with me—something that never happens when he’s around. You have so much energy when he’s there that sleep doesn’t even cross your mind. So it was a slower, more peaceful rhythm.
At one point, though, I got upset. Your dad sent me a message saying, “I know you’re going to think I’m crazy, but when you take her to the ice cream shop, try picking fruit flavors instead of those full of food coloring and artificial stuff.” I didn’t show it, but it stung. He wasn’t even there—he chose not to come because of this kind of thing—so why try to control what we do, what you’re allowed to eat, or how we enjoy ourselves? Doesn’t he see that this is exactly why he wasn’t part of that trip?
I calmly replied that when he’s with you and takes you for ice cream, he can choose your flavor. But when you’re with me, I get to enjoy giving you the freedom to choose. That doesn’t mean you’ll always get to pick whatever you want—but come on, everyone else was choosing their ice cream, and it was your moment too. You’d never even picked your own before. We didn’t think there was anything wrong with it.
At home during the week, we make fruit popsicles together with banana, strawberries, and all the good stuff. So what’s the harm in stepping out of the routine once in a while? Still, that message left a mark. It made me realize just how hard it is—how unlikely it is—that we’ll ever work out. I don’t want to live that kind of life, but that’s who he is, or maybe who he’s become. And you can’t change people. You either accept them as they are, or you move on. Still, it hurt.
But I shook it off, as best as I could. And on our last night before hitting the road, we decided to check out a nearby mall. There was a gelateria there—real Italian-style ice cream. The flavors were amazing. But of course, just my luck, they had a blue one. So that’s all you wanted. Again.
I ordered a Kinder chocolate gelato, and it was incredible. But somehow, yours turned out even better.
After that, I was still hungry—which is unusual for me. I don’t usually get hungry often, but when I do, it feels like I’m starving the entire day. No matter how much I eat, I just can’t shake it. I was craving a burger from this place nearby, but my parents were busy fixing up the house, and my dad had already spent quite a bit in the past couple of days eating out. So my mom whipped up some burgers at home, and honestly, it hit the spot.
We hit the road that night. It was already late when we got home, so your dad didn’t get to see you. I managed to keep you awake during the drive by letting you watch cartoons—something your dad would definitely disapprove of, but hey, until I have a portable TV for the car, it’s my only option. And it worked—you stayed awake the whole way and ended up sleeping really well that night.
But on the way back, you threw up. A lot. It scared me, honestly. You vomited everything—your rice, your beans—it was a mess. But to be fair, we were driving through a mountain road full of twists and turns. Even I, who rarely gets carsick, was feeling nauseous. On the way there it hadn’t been that bad, but the return trip was rough. No wonder you got sick.
Thankfully, just five minutes later we spotted a small roadside restaurant. We pulled over and were able to clean you up completely—fresh clothes, a wiped-down car seat (which, by the way, was disgusting), the whole deal. We got lucky, because usually there’s nothing open on that road. And right after we left, they closed. If we’d arrived even five minutes later, we would’ve had to do the rest of the trip with you smelling terrible and feeling miserable.
And the smell really was awful. It had taken over the whole car, and I was this close to throwing up myself from the nausea. You kept crying, begging me to clean you up. But thank God it all worked out. We made it back.
