3 things I missed mentioning. 2 are important and and 1 is less so… 1. Mom. The best there’s ever been and the best there will ever be & she’s all mine. Mom: I love your summary texts (“Ironing until water aerobics. Pai’s getting in this afternoon. I might go to JoAnn’s later. xo”). I love how you’ll talk to me forever about taxes and mousetraps. I love that there is no better person to learn from and no person I miss more. I’m the luckiest. And just so it’s on the internet, Happy Mother’s Day + 2 days.  2. Brittany. This Sunday B started a new trip around the sun. To my person: HAPPY BELATED, bean. Sending good birthday vibes from here to Cambridge and back Guess what? As of today, it’s exactly 1 month until I fly across the pond. This is not a drill. THIS IS NOT A DRILL! There will be hugging and screaming for no less than 17 minutes – I hope you’re prepared. 3. Blueberry Muffin Ice Cream. Enough said.
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3 things I missed mentioning. 2 are important and and 1 is less so… 1. Mom. The best there’s ever been and the best there will ever be & she’s all mine. Mom: I love your summary texts (“Ironing until water aerobics. Pai’s getting in this afternoon. I might go to JoAnn’s later. xo”). I love how you’ll talk to me forever about taxes and mousetraps. I love that there is no better person to learn from and no person I miss more. I’m the luckiest. And just so it’s on the internet, Happy Mother’s Day + 2 days.  2. Brittany. This Sunday B started a new trip around the sun. To my person: HAPPY BELATED, bean. Sending good birthday vibes from here to Cambridge and back Guess what? As of today, it’s exactly 1 month until I fly across the pond. This is not a drill. THIS IS NOT A DRILL! There will be hugging and screaming for no less than 17 minutes – I hope you’re prepared. 3. Blueberry Muffin Ice Cream. Enough said.
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3 things I missed mentioning. 2 are important and and 1 is less so… 1. Mom. The best there’s ever been and the best there will ever be & she’s all mine. Mom: I love your summary texts (“Ironing until water aerobics. Pai’s getting in this afternoon. I might go to JoAnn’s later. xo”). I love how you’ll talk to me forever about taxes and mousetraps. I love that there is no better person to learn from and no person I miss more. I’m the luckiest. And just so it’s on the internet, Happy Mother’s Day + 2 days.  2. Brittany. This Sunday B started a new trip around the sun. To my person: HAPPY BELATED, bean. Sending good birthday vibes from here to Cambridge and back Guess what? As of today, it’s exactly 1 month until I fly across the pond. This is not a drill. THIS IS NOT A DRILL! There will be hugging and screaming for no less than 17 minutes – I hope you’re prepared. 3. Blueberry Muffin Ice Cream. Enough said.
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3 things I missed mentioning. 2 are important and and 1 is less so…

1. Mom. The best there’s ever been and the best there will ever be & she’s all mine.

Mom: I love your summary texts (“Ironing until water aerobics. Pai’s getting in this afternoon. I might go to JoAnn’s later. xo”). I love how you’ll talk to me forever about taxes and mousetraps. I love that there is no better person to learn from and no person I miss more. I’m the luckiest. And just so it’s on the internet, Happy Mother’s Day + 2 days. 

2. Brittany. This Sunday B started a new trip around the sun.

To my person: HAPPY BELATED, bean. Sending good birthday vibes from here to Cambridge and back Guess what? As of today, it’s exactly 1 month until I fly across the pond. This is not a drill. THIS IS NOT A DRILL! There will be hugging and screaming for no less than 17 minutes – I hope you’re prepared.

3. Blueberry Muffin Ice Cream. Enough said.

Hey guys! So… 1 guinea pig (RIP Peanut) 1 diner fleece 1 US citizenship 1 fake Christmas tree 1 cross country trip made with pai’s 3rd child 2 graduate degrees 2 kids 3 Brasilian citizenships (1 honorary and 2 actual) 3 dogs 5 states 5 graduations 6 goldfish 7 Harry Potter books  7 churches  9 cars 10 pairs of earplugs (purchased for those 40+ cheerleading competitions) 50 nights waiting up for teenage me 52 pizzas grilled on your Big Green Egg 40 (ish) coats of paint for the walls of 5 different houses 272 episodes of Car Talk  1,548 batches of pancakes  2,804 pots of rice & beans 5,000 nights waiting up for teenage Marina 1 billion miles flown and driven. To: Maine, DC, the entirety of Western Europe, Boulder, Disney World, The Grand Canyon, Scottsdale, Mexico, Brasil, Wenona, Seattle, Hilton Head, Dallas, Santa Barbara, Chicago, Milwaukee, Las Vegas, Lancaster, New York, Baltimore, and San Clemente.  & 30 Years Buying Easter tights and checking out library books. Building decks and dance floors (push the coffee table out of the way and open the windows). Christmases, ski trips, New Years Eves, breakfast dates, concerts, weddings, and birthdays. When I think about what I want, what I’m actually looking for, the answer is embarrassingly simple - someone to build something with. Mom & Pai, I hope you took yesterday to sleep in, bask in your 70 degree sunshine, and look at all you’ve built with your 30 years. Here’s to the next 30! HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!! xo
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Hey guys! So…

  • 1 guinea pig (RIP Peanut)
  • 1 diner fleece
  • 1 US citizenship
  • 1 fake Christmas tree
  • 1 cross country trip made with pai’s 3rd child
  • 2 graduate degrees
  • 2 kids
  • 3 Brasilian citizenships (1 honorary and 2 actual)
  • 3 dogs
  • 5 states
  • 5 graduations
  • 6 goldfish
  • 7 Harry Potter books 
  • 7 churches 
  • 9 cars
  • 10 pairs of earplugs (purchased for those 40+ cheerleading competitions)
  • 50 nights waiting up for teenage me
  • 52 pizzas grilled on your Big Green Egg
  • 40 (ish) coats of paint for the walls of 5 different houses
  • 272 episodes of Car Talk 
  • 1,548 batches of pancakes 
  • 2,804 pots of rice & beans
  • 5,000 nights waiting up for teenage Marina
  • 1 billion miles flown and driven. To: Maine, DC, the entirety of Western Europe, Boulder, Disney World, The Grand Canyon, Scottsdale, Mexico, Brasil, Wenona, Seattle, Hilton Head, Dallas, Santa Barbara, Chicago, Milwaukee, Las Vegas, Lancaster, New York, Baltimore, and San Clemente. 
  • & 30 Years
Buying Easter tights and checking out library books. Building decks and dance floors (push the coffee table out of the way and open the windows). Christmases, ski trips, New Years Eves, breakfast dates, concerts, weddings, and birthdays.

When I think about what I want, what I’m actually looking for, the answer is embarrassingly simple - someone to build something with. Mom & Pai, I hope you took yesterday to sleep in, bask in your 70 degree sunshine, and look at all you’ve built with your 30 years. Here’s to the next 30!

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!!

xo

2 Favorite Mom Memories:  1. My sister, my mom, and I took this road trip. I think it was one of our late 90’s PA>IL drives (there were many). My dad prefers his road trips NPR-filled, crumb-free, and drive-straight-through. This time though, it was just the girls and my mom greenlit snacks and let us play DJ. I remember eating handfuls of Chex Mix, unwrapping Kudos bars, sticking my arms out of the sunroof, singing along at the top of my lungs to Dolly Parton, and knowing that my mom was the coolest. At that time and in that car nothing was more awesome. 2. When I was fifteen my parents took us to Europe and I threw a fit. What would I want with sunsets in Capri and Mozart dinner concerts in Salzburg? All of my best friends (and a boy I couldn’t stop thinking about) were down the Jersey shore. Europe was hot, I didn’t like the food, and there were pigeons everywhere. (I was also an asshole.) One afternoon, as we trudged across the cobblestones, dripping with sweat under the Roman sun, blistered feet wrapped in the same sandals we’d worn for weeks, my mom squeezed my shoulder, pushed the hair from my face, and whispered, “just remember, we’re making memories.” And it dawned on me that we were. Everyone’s all it’s about the journey, but I’ve yet to meet anyone who actually appreciates the in between moments like my mom. She can make the ordinary the part you always remember. Sitting down on couch for a movie or splitting a slice of cheesecake or setting the table for dinner on the deck, these are the things I love the most.  Happy birthday, mamaroo! Miss you! Love you!  [Photo: Le Fam, Christmas 2011]
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2 Favorite Mom Memories: 

1. My sister, my mom, and I took this road trip. I think it was one of our late 90’s PA>IL drives (there were many). My dad prefers his road trips NPR-filled, crumb-free, and drive-straight-through. This time though, it was just the girls and my mom greenlit snacks and let us play DJ. I remember eating handfuls of Chex Mix, unwrapping Kudos bars, sticking my arms out of the sunroof, singing along at the top of my lungs to Dolly Parton, and knowing that my mom was the coolest. At that time and in that car nothing was more awesome.

2. When I was fifteen my parents took us to Europe and I threw a fit. What would I want with sunsets in Capri and Mozart dinner concerts in Salzburg? All of my best friends (and a boy I couldn’t stop thinking about) were down the Jersey shore. Europe was hot, I didn’t like the food, and there were pigeons everywhere. (I was also an asshole.) One afternoon, as we trudged across the cobblestones, dripping with sweat under the Roman sun, blistered feet wrapped in the same sandals we’d worn for weeks, my mom squeezed my shoulder, pushed the hair from my face, and whispered, “just remember, we’re making memories.” And it dawned on me that we were.

Everyone’s all it’s about the journey, but I’ve yet to meet anyone who actually appreciates the in between moments like my mom. She can make the ordinary the part you always remember. Sitting down on couch for a movie or splitting a slice of cheesecake or setting the table for dinner on the deck, these are the things I love the most. 

Happy birthday, mamaroo! Miss you! Love you! 

[Photo: Le Fam, Christmas 2011]

I have this memory of my mom. When I was young (like young, young) we lived in a development famous for throwing these great parties. (Or least “famous” is how I remember it.) Under the guise of “block party” or “progressive dinner” two dozen parents would toss the kids in the basement, pile up the charcoal, and put the beer on ice. (The best parties are reserved for summertime.) The kids loved it, too. (Pop quiz: how many times can one watch Richie Rich before tiring of it? Trick question. The answer is never. One can never tire of watching Richie Rich.) We would sneak extra chips, re-watch until the VHS tape broke, tell epically tall tales, and spy on our parents. On this particular night, I remember popping my head out of the basement and spotting a crowd of people in the family room. Four or so were in a line, can-canning their way through “Hot Legs.” My mamaroo was on one end with an arm stretched out and the other draped over the shoulder of a neighbor, singing at the top of her lungs. To date, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look so happy. On your birthday, mom, I wish you that kind of happiness. (The number of rum & cokes it takes you to get there is none of my business.) To the only one I ever really want to call:You set the bar on wrapping gifts, boiling penuche and mustering patience. I can only hope to someday live up to it all. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! Love! Photo: 9/12/10. La Familia.
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I have this memory of my mom.

When I was young (like young, young) we lived in a development famous for throwing these great parties. (Or least “famous” is how I remember it.) Under the guise of “block party” or “progressive dinner” two dozen parents would toss the kids in the basement, pile up the charcoal, and put the beer on ice. (The best parties are reserved for summertime.)

The kids loved it, too. (Pop quiz: how many times can one watch Richie Rich before tiring of it? Trick question. The answer is never. One can never tire of watching Richie Rich.) We would sneak extra chips, re-watch until the VHS tape broke, tell epically tall tales, and spy on our parents.

On this particular night, I remember popping my head out of the basement and spotting a crowd of people in the family room. Four or so were in a line, can-canning their way through “Hot Legs.” My mamaroo was on one end with an arm stretched out and the other draped over the shoulder of a neighbor, singing at the top of her lungs. To date, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look so happy.

On your birthday, mom, I wish you that kind of happiness. (The number of rum & cokes it takes you to get there is none of my business.)

To the only one I ever really want to call:

You set the bar on wrapping gifts, boiling penuche and mustering patience. I can only hope to someday live up to it all.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

Love!

Photo: 9/12/10. La Familia.

At one point last year I looked across the couch at my mom and then down at my hands and muttered an embarrassed, “thanks for letting me move home again.” She stared back at me and stated so matter-of-factly, “well of course. We’re family and that’s just what we do.” Then she laughed a little and continued, “it’s not ideal, but it’s just what we do. You can always come back.” My mom makes everyone feel like where they are is exactly where they are supposed to be. The room is more comfortable when she’s in it. You know that Maya Angelou quote? The one that goes: “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” That’s my mom. Unforgettable. Happy (slightly belated) Mother’s Day, Mom! Photo context: Pai’s birthday | Feb. 2010 | Mom, Pai, & a carrot cake with dulce de leche buttercream.
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At one point last year I looked across the couch at my mom and then down at my hands and muttered an embarrassed, “thanks for letting me move home again.”

She stared back at me and stated so matter-of-factly, “well of course. We’re family and that’s just what we do.” Then she laughed a little and continued, “it’s not ideal, but it’s just what we do. You can always come back.”

My mom makes everyone feel like where they are is exactly where they are supposed to be. The room is more comfortable when she’s in it. You know that Maya Angelou quote? The one that goes:

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

That’s my mom. Unforgettable.

Happy (slightly belated) Mother’s Day, Mom!

Photo context: Pai’s birthday | Feb. 2010 | Mom, Pai, & a carrot cake with dulce de leche buttercream.

More on this later…

…but since I’m still in Nanny City, I’ll be brief. If I’ve ever treated anyone with kindness. Or smiled because I knew someone needed it, It was because I learned it from my mom. My mother is a truly remarkable person. She told me to care and showed me how to do it. LOVE YOU, Mamaroo.

There’s this photo…

…of my parents on our hutch in the dining room. They’re at a concert (I haven’t a clue which one) and it’s definitely Summertime and they’re definitely at Ravinia. My mom is smiling an enormous smile and my dad is mid-laugh. They’re lying on their stomachs, propped up by their elbows, holding beer bottles. Whenever I head home I swear that I’ll make a copy. Of course I don’t, but I always wish I had, because in this small snapshot I see so much of my parents and what they’re good at. 

They’re good at summer and drinking beer. 

They excellent roadtrippers.

They’re determined and proud and easily the most accepting people on this planet.

They’re steller Jeopardy fans. 

They’re smart and each in such a different way…complementary intelligence, really.

They dance. When we were young it was to The Beach Boys in the living room. As we got older, at block party after parties…to Rod Stewart. And now it’s in the family room, slowly, after dinner, sometimes without any music at all. 

So whenever I embark on a stint down the highway, or twirl around looking like an idiot, or remember the cooler, or when I have an answer, I know it’s because of them. And I know it’s ridiculous to see all that in a picture, but they’re my parents and I suppose I just do. 

Happy Anniversary, Mom & Pai.

I know we all say this (and I think that’s the way it’s supposed to be) but my mom really is the best there is.  The best thing about my mom is that she loves people for exactly who they are. The best thing about my mom is that she listens with both ears and hugs with both arms. The best thing about my mom is that she’ll make you feel smart and funny. (Even though she’s definitely smarter and probably funnier.) The best thing about my mom is that she’s the best. She helped me feel cool when I wasn’t. Like the time she said it was okay to lie so I could leave my first boy/girl pool party early. Lie: I had to babysit. Truth: I was afraid to watch Scream. (Don’t laugh, that is scary when you’re 11 and just spent a week mulling over a serious decision… bikini or one piece.) She taught me how to drive and how to love country music. She’s brave and has a great laugh. She gave me my legs and my tendency to cry at sad commercials. One day I hope to have a heart as big as hers. Happy Mama’s Day! Photo context: The parental unit. Florida. 2006.
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I know we all say this (and I think that’s the way it’s supposed to be) but my mom really is the best there is. 

The best thing about my mom is that she loves people for exactly who they are.

The best thing about my mom is that she listens with both ears and hugs with both arms.

The best thing about my mom is that she’ll make you feel smart and funny. (Even though she’s definitely smarter and probably funnier.)

The best thing about my mom is that she’s the best.

She helped me feel cool when I wasn’t. Like the time she said it was okay to lie so I could leave my first boy/girl pool party early. Lie: I had to babysit. Truth: I was afraid to watch Scream. (Don’t laugh, that is scary when you’re 11 and just spent a week mulling over a serious decision… bikini or one piece.) She taught me how to drive and how to love country music. She’s brave and has a great laugh. She gave me my legs and my tendency to cry at sad commercials. One day I hope to have a heart as big as hers.

Happy Mama’s Day!

Photo context: The parental unit. Florida. 2006.

January 22, 1983

My parents are a story of opposites.

My mother grew up on a farm in rural, central Illinois. She learned to drive in a cornfield at the age of 11. She has three older brothers and was born with bright red curly hair. She smiles at strangers and worries about them, too. She believes in the benefit of the doubt and always remembers.

My father shares his hometown with 18 million other people. He was raised in a concrete maze. He has two younger sisters and straight, jet black hair. He can be a little like a bull in a china shop but has more determination in his pinky finger (bent from a soccer injury) than most people find in a lifetime.

When they met (in a bar, in Wisconsin) my mother was in graduate school and my father had never completed a college course. My father smoked cigarettes and my mom found them disgusting. He liked broad sweeping ideals and she was concerned with the details. (That last bit still rings true today.)

But they’re alike, too. They’re risky and accepting. My father uprooted himself and schlepped his life from Brazil to the snowy land o’ cheeseheads. My mom is one of two from her high school class to move away from Illinois. My dad’s the sort of person who drives to a bar in Astoria at 3AM because, “it’s the only decent place to watch Brazil play during a world cup year.” My mom’s the sort of person who doesn’t bat an eyelash when someone says, after dinner/coffee/dessert, “I’m heading to New York for a game.”

Since their meeting, my parents have learned to compromise, share, learn, and laugh with one another. My mom enjoys rice and beans and my dad listens to country music on occasion. 27 years, 4 states, 3 dogs, 3 degrees, 2 kids, 1 guinea pig, a few goldfish, and countless memories later and they’re still learning.

I admire my parents for a million reasons but I am definitely proud of the story they’re telling.

Happy Anniversary Mom & Pai!