Today it’s gonna be a more serious post. So, you can go and spare that diaper, I will wait…
As you know, we had a baby recently, well 5 months in ‘baby time’ is like an eternity, but whatever. It was a year full of shit, literally! but good and crazy stuff too. So, as a reward we are going to spend Christmas with the family.


It’s going to be fun, see everyone, eat like pigs, don’t shower for the whole month – I still remember to take a shower in Portugal, the fucking ritual with the heater, and I don’t miss that. Brrrrr
Finally I’m gonna meet my brother-in-law, all the way from Africas. Man, they have lions and stuff there. Crazy shit!

I’m wondering how it will go this trip to motherland.
Will we be…?
a) all sentimental and want to stay;
b) lost, out of the portuguese habits and want to come back as soon as possible;
c) a mix of a and b;
d) none of the above.

I let you know. Fuck! I don’t even want to go anymore, just thinking that we need to get back to this fucking cold and lonely land. Lets just avoid all the return day drama and stay.

What do you think??? not a rhetorical question
Live in a place you don’t like, I mean, we tried but just can’t get it to grow on us BUT have some financial stability and possibility of organize your life
Live in a beautiful place, close to your family and friends BUT have no idea if you’re gonna eat the next day.
NOW put a kid in the equation!
Will he be better raised by happy* parents or with a bunch of new toys?
Only thoughts, any helpful on that side?

*Well, the father is Gemini! So, happy is very relative in this case, if you’re into this astrological shit you know what I mean.




Awww motherhood is beautiful…
So our days are going pretty nice until the sun goes down and it’s hell on earth. He makes a fuss now, every fucking night, to sleep. I wonder how it’s going to be on the plane to Portugal, god help us. I think his teeth are coming one per week, he has one out and another showing up already. He’s going all cannibal with us now, especially with his main source of food aka my boobs.
But seriously when he throws these tantrums, like he wants to sleep but just cries and yells and pulls hair and cries a little more, you just want to throw him on the floor, lucky him he has a nice face and I kinda like him, A LOT.
It’s just that took so long to fabricate him, about 9 months for those of you that have no idea how this works. It’s like when you make a batch of macaroons, so much work and fucking almond flour is so expensive, you pray that gets out perfect. And then it won’t and you never do it again.
So you can see how fucked up these guys are, the other night I was living the nightmare of putting him to sleep and before i lose it I lay him on the crib and hang my head on the rail, breathing and trying hard to not cry, when his crying suddenly stops, I look up and the sucker is staring at me and smiles. You big son of a b…me.


Long time no see. I’m having a quiet phase, content with almost everything, days off of complaining. That’s why I have nothing to bitch about. Boring days!
So you can see how much I’m in such a vegetal mood, I don’t even mind Donald Trump being elected president. Relax, don’t need to be freaking out so soon, give the man an opportunity, who knows!? Maybe something less bad than expected is in sight for the ‘great nation’. Anyways, it’s done – democratically – but you still have 70 days to enjoy Obama. Make the most of it!
I think it’s funny how all of a sudden everyone believes in politicians, that they actually do what they promise during campaign. Since when?? NEVER my good people, NEVER! Have faith in the system.
So, don’t need to come running to Canada, please, we have enough retards here! joking, for the less humorous.
The dog that barks doesn’t bite. Lets be afraid of the poodles.


I like the point of view of this article:


Know the expression Pardon My French?
For the past 4 years I’ve been using it, and it was literally pardon my french cause I’m Portuguese and don’t speak very fluent. Well, I got tired of apologizing, it’s not only my french the problem here, Quebecers are the problem and what they proudly call their language.
Shit! Not even the real ‘french people’ can understand the fuck they’re saying. How am I supposed to?
Imagine a fat truck driver, an 80’s haircut, toothpick – despite the lack of teeth – and touching his scrotum like there’s no tomorrow, talking about god knows what.
Something like that…

Well, that’s what I see when someone talks to me in this beautiful language called ‘Québécois’. Osti, tabarnak!
Vive Quebec libre!


…And with it the changing tires season. Our lease ends next summer, and the winter tires are kaputz. Nothing survives in Montreal, not happiness, not even tires. So this week we went to Mazda just to see if we could do anything about the situation, like have some money after for the tires or whatever. After 3hours, two feedings and a change of diapers, we left with a new car.

For a while now, Jerry was getting sucked into the SUV’s world. We tried, nop, to boat-ish, every turn you feel like throwing up. Plus you need an airplane runway to park that shit. The moment you have a baby, the two things people swear by are a drying machine and a mini-van. We got none, stubborn motherfucker. Still don’t know how I’m gonna dry the thousands of clothes Thomas spits, during this beautiful winter, No Stress!

Anyway, we ended up with a smaller car but automatic and with gangsta windows. In the end of the day it’s only us three, we don’t use that much space, yet. Sorry, four with Sasha. And if Thomas keeps growing tall that fast, we got the sunroof. Safe buy!

When we bought the condo, same shit. A winter sunday, nothing to do – as usual – we went to some open houses – BAM – first one, SOLD! Dealers when they see us coming through the door, they must have an orgasm. Damn. We are so easy. Consumerist whores!


I guess I got everybody by surprise. No one was expecting me – the quiet one – having a blog and so much shit to say. My few friends and family know I don’t talk much, and I think they made peace with that, especially my mother. I knew she was gonna be my first and only follower. She loves to know stuff. Watch out your Facebook pages, people!

It’s not that I don’t like humans. For me, speech is a complicated process. I need my time and paper – YA I get lost a lot – to organize my ideas. Otherwise, I just turn in my father, and nobody wants that. Believe me!
If we are having a conversation my mind is like a crossword puzzle. I start with an idea but then argument with some other theories, contradict myself and end up in a completely different topic. While all this is happening inside my head, I still need to find the right words, get all the letters together in a way that makes sense and finally speak out loud. By the time I figured it all out, everybody is home and sleeping. So, I just nod and say yes!

Anyway, what I can try to do is to keep a record and study my lines, in the end they always are the same stories. And I understand, by norm people have friends and a life, at some point they just forgot to whom they told what. So they just keep telling…
After a while gets in you in a way that you don’t know anymore what stuff happened to you, which stories are yours, you just start telling them too. And goes around again until you realise it wasn’t yours – your life is getting really boring. Damn!


Know the saying sleeping like a baby?

Well, sleeping when there’s a baby at home is a myth. Or you’re one of the lucky moms and your baby lets you sleep at least 5hours straight, or you get a taste once in a while, just to tease. Here I am, writing at 4am, between feedings, quite hungry myself – only baby is allowed to eat at night, if us big girls eat too we are doomed. YES, even if you are in the lucky group and he wakes only once in the middle of the night, the time it takes you to fall asleep, he’s awaking ready to start his day, FULL POWER! That’s what I was talking about in the other post, when I said I wouldn’t mind having a shitload of kids if I didn’t need to go through this again.

I had a pretty good labour. Was 8hours since we checked in at the hospital until Mr.T popped out. Was in charge of my body until I reached 7cm, when for a brief moment, waiting for the anesthetist, I thought death was coming…Hell NO!!! I’m going home, fuck this! – Guess not, better stay – After epidural took over, peace on earth, 2hours pushing and voila! No tear, no pain, no nothing. Actually my delivery nurse played a big role in all this, she was sooooo nice, I actually think I fell in love with her. She even made me laugh between pushes. Natalie, if you are out there, a big thanks from this happy vajayjay!

So, I don’t know if it was the stuff I did during pregnancy, like drink tons of water, walk like a gypsy, squats…or if it’s in me biologically, like I heard from all the staff ‘was made to have babies’ – it’s a sin to have only one. As far I can believe that, I’m not so sure about the raising a kid part, all the patience, dedication, sacrifice and love that takes…With luck he doesn’t turn a Trump fan.

Let’s see how that goes!


P.S: A big thanks too to papa and grandma, they were there all the time holding hands and legs and grandpa trying to sneak in. Papa was pushing and everything, like a big boy.