"I'm the Special Day boy!"

Rise and shine and give God your glory, glory... That was how today felt. Little Big Boy is one step closer to becoming a Big Boy. Today he turned four. He jumped out of bed and said, "Today is my birthday! I'm the Special Day Boy!" "Mom, I'm four," he said excitedly as he showed me four fingers.

"Why are you so special today," I asked to which he stated matter of factually, "Because Jesus made me special."

Four? Um hmm.

18 year old turned 19 on the 14th. You see March is the big birthday month in my side of the family: My brother: March 12th; 19 yr. old: March 14th-though I went into labor at 5:30 a.m. on the 12th and finally the dr. took him by C-section; March 15th my niece; March 28: Little Big Boy and March 31st my God son.

Today Little Big Boy got a Power Rangers SPD bike. He was so grateful for each gift. Even a water bottle that 19 year old gave him; it's one of the promotional kind that Play it Again Sports gives away...19 yr. old works there now.

We had the birthday party at a place called Pizza Safari; it is a tamer (pun intended) version of Chuck E. Cheese's, which I swore off when 19 year old wasn't...;)

It was a great party. My baby is four. Sigh. It goes so fast. I can't wait to get outside in the spring air and ride bikes. Oh my life is grand.

Story board...

Visit Heidi's Pieces of Me for a fun challenge....:) http://4youmyworld.blogspot.com/ It will be interesting to see where this goes...

La da da da da

da da da da da da da da da....can you see me on the trapeze and that song is playing...Burt hums it in Mary Poppins while he is pretending to ride a unicycle on a highwire in one of his sidewalk pictures.

Today was a bad day. If it could go wrong, it seemed like it did. However, I couldn't sleep last night and I finally lied down at 4:15 a.m. and Little Big Boy awoke at 5:55 a.m. Big exasperated sigh!

I am not used to juggling anymore. I mean that with a wink and a smile. Today was frustrating, but it wasn't awful-rather there was a two hour period when I was ready to scream, but it's over.

I like my new job. I worked ten hours yesterday so that I can learn the software. I could hardly move when G picked me up. I'm still hurting from my fall down a flight of stairs. I haven't told my boss about about it. It isn't a work related injury; it happened months ago, but my back has never been the same.

So I am pooped through and through. I have days when there is so much new information in my brain that I short-circuit. I mean it is like hitting a brick wall. It is interesting, though. I work in an office alone for the most part and I flourish when I am given a job and allowed to simply do it.

G is taking the brunt of the juggling right now. He has to juggle much more than I: school, full-time job and family. He has no time for himself. He thinks the same thing about me. Then we realized that our time at work is our time. It gives you a brighter perspective. In the short-term that works.

Number One Daughter is a "clinger"...no, not Klingon...a clinger...she needs to be in the same room with us. She can do something independently, but she flourishes when we are near. Little Big Boy on the other hand is so independent that it is almost scary. He is very out-going and he can sit alone and play for long periods.

Their personalities make juggling everything a bit easier. One is ready for cuddling, but I don't feel overwhelmed by it. They take turns. Our night-time routine is non-existent and it is rearing its ugly head!

Bath! Books! Bedtime! It is a perfect end to a day of juggling....night, night.

"Reality" t.v.

I stayed away from so-called reality t.v. for a long time. Then last year, I decided to watch American Idol. Then I stumbled upon America's Next Top Model and finally upon Project Runway. I should have stayed away.

I'm not watching Idol this season; that doesn't matter much because most of the world is watching it. I am not watching Tyra's model search this season either. And now that Project Runway has ended, I have decided not to watch it next season either.

I wanted Daniel Vosovic to win. During the finale, I thought Santino Rice might have pulled off a win. It was bizarre that the judges beat Santino down all season and then bashed him all over for playing it too safe at Fashion Week.

Santino was the element that kept it interesting-in the eyes of the producers. He was one of the last two so many times during the contest that it is a wonder that he made it all the way to Fashion Week. But Chloe Dao pulled out a shocking win.

Dao had discussed that she had already done the New York designer scene and that she wasn't sure that she wanted it. In spite of her back peddling regarding her "hunger" for the win, I think she was the least likely to take advantage of the winnings, which include a Saturn sports car, $100,000 seed money to start her line and a mentorship by Banana Republic.

In simple terms, Dao has "been there; done that." I didn't care for her line either. Some of it looked like bad prom night dresses. I mean AWFUL. All glowing materials...pass my sun glasses, please.

Daniel won most of the challenges during the season, as did Kara Sann, last season...but there was one big difference: Daniel is a nice person, too. Yeah Kara is nice, but she pulled the fast one with her designer shoes last season, which, by the way, I did not watch.

I'm done with reality t.v. The outcome is bizarre. The person that seems to earn the win doesn't win. There is so much "drama," which is only a ploy to keep people watching. Also, the season two reunion show was a bust. Guadalupe was drunk. They had been drinking. Obviously no producer remembered the final episode of Cheers and the after party that was held on Jay Leno's Tonight Show. The cast was drunk and stoned. I was certain that after that error in judgment that producers would not mix alcohol and/or controlled substances with reunions or other televised cast showings.

There was a little bit of redemtion for Daniel, though; Michael Kors told him to call him if he needs a job. I thought the dress that Kors made for Heidi Klum at Fashion Week looked an awful lot like Emmet's party dress for Nicky Hilton...hmmmm.

Reality t.v. is fake. I used to think that it was just funny. What a joke that people watch it. That is what I thought. Now I think reality t.v. is sad. Very, very sad. They sew. She cuts. I turn off the t.v.

Balance

What a week. It's been good, but I am exhausted. Thoroughly. It is a nice feeling.

I miss being home with Little Big Boy, but it is good that he has one on one time with G, too. Things are hectic yet with trying to balance getting everyone where they need to be; G is handling the brunt of the juggling-he is a master at it really.

When I was in high school I penned a poem-okay, I penned many, many poems, but this particular one was about hiding myself from the world. I went deep inside myself and stayed for a long time. Then came the time when I was ready to begin the long journey back up.

I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like without abuse, but more and more I have realized that if anything had been different, that it wouldn't be my life at all. I think that is what you call "acceptance." Instead of looking at the abusers in my life and feeling like they had stolen it, I can see that my life is just my life.

It has taken me many years to arrive at this insight. Twenty years of therapy-off and on, but therapy nonetheless. It is as if I suddenly realized the truth in the statement that I was not a bad girl. Those men did bad things, but they didn't do bad things because I was bad-they did bad things because THEY were bad.

The concept is very simple. It is easy to say it, too. It's not the victim's fault. The thing is that you have to believe it for it to be true. And to arrive at it being true means that you embark on a journey of self-acceptance.

When I was a little girl, one of my uncles walked into a room while his father was molesting me. The uncle said, "You deserve it." For many years, that was the loop that ran inside my brain. I think although I didn't knowingly buy into the accusation, that on some level I believed that I must have done something to deserve the abuse. Years later, after being battered, 18 year old's father told me, "Look what you made me do."

When I first launched my blog, I think that I was going to use it as a place for creative writing, but it actually evolved into a place where I could blossom and flourish. Many of the blogs that I read were discovered at Rosie's blog. Little does she know how much of a catalyst for healing that she has been.

When it comes right down to it, though, you have to inspire yourself to heal yourself. Acceptance is balance. I'm learning to love the high-wire and the acrophobia is fading. Maybe the little girl in me is ready to take my hand and walk with me side by side and not hide behind my knees anymore. That is a journey that I have waited a lifetime for.