This is from an old blog entry. Journaling Reads:
When I was younger, I used to travel in a crowd of beautiful women. I
don’t know how it happened but all my female “friends” were drop dead
gorgeous and within a few weeks, my self-image managed to wither away to
nothing. At the time, I started playing a game where each time I caught
myself wishing I had someone else’s something (like hair or eyes or nose
or legs) I would force the issue.

I told myself that the rules were such that I wasn’t allowed to take
body parts or personality traits and plug them into the rest of me. If I
liked someone’s something, I had to completely change places with that
person. Not only did I get their whole body, but I got all their
personal issues, emotions, family, psychological state of mind, past,
living status, job and anything else you can think of. I basically
forced myself to choose between me and this random (or in some cases not
so random) person. Yeah, I got to have their small nose or blue eyes,
but was I ready to also have their eating disorder? How about the
disinterested mom? Was I willing to give up all of who I am to look like
this person? It was my way of forcing myself to face the fact that
people don’t come in pieces. You want a part, you get the whole thing.
How do you like them apples?

In fifteen years, I’ve never met one person I was willing to change
places with. I don’t know if it was the fact that I wasn’t willing to
give up certain aspects of who I am of my life or the fact that I tend
to favor the known over the unknown. Looking at a woman walking down the
street, I can see she has pretty hair or a size-2 figure, but I can’t
see what goes on in her head or how much she suffers daily. With me, at
least I know what I’m getting. Or maybe I was finally growing to like
myself. The game’s done a lot to improve my self-esteem.

This is one of my favorite quotes of all time. Each time I am too
chicken to do something, I remember Twain’s words and know that real
people would be supportive of me and I can do anything I want.

“Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions.
Small people always do that, but the really great make you
feel that you, too, can become great.” –Mark Twain

No journaling needed. (Just the date of July 2007)

Journaling Reads:

Little boys your age cannot sit still for more than three minutes. They
run from place to place and destroy everything along the way. You
certainly cause your share of destruction but I am always amazed at the
length of your attention span.

A week ago, we went to the Google family picnic and I was worried that
you’d quickly lose interest and want to come back home. But, I was
totally wrong. One of the areas was full of little beads that you could
string into a furry wire and make bracelets and I knew this would be
your very favorite part of the picnic, so I took you there and got a
mini bowl of beads and a few wires so we could sit down and play
together. I figured it would keep you busy for at least a few minutes.

Two hours later, you were still putting the beads on and taking them off
and putting them back on without showing any sign of boredom. If I
didn’t insist that we leave to look at the other sections, you could
have spent another three hours with the beads.

When you were born, I was worried you might have your dad’s ADD, but it
turns out that when it comes to attention, you’ve taken after me. When
you’re doing something you love, you get lost in that world.

Isn’t it wonderful?

Journaling Reads:
Two-year-olds are famous for their tantrums and lack of patience, and
you’re no exception. You have such a predictable pattern that I can
almost time you. Here are the steps we go through multiple times a day:

• You want something.

• I tell you that you can’t have it.

• You repeat your ask, insisting as if I didn’t understand what you were
saying and that must be why I am refusing you.

• I tell you that I heard you but that’s something you can’t have.

• You simultaneously stomp your foot and say, “I’m MAD!”

• I tell you not to be mad and try to explain to you why you can’t have
it. When I can see that won’t work, I try to steer you in a different
direction.

• You let your body go limp and start throwing the books off the table,
or hit me.

• Now I am angry and I give you a serious look to indicate what you did
was not the right way to handle your feelings.

• You walk to a convenient wall, lean your head away from me, and start
crying.

• I keep talking to you softly and trying to redirect your attention.

• Finally, you give up and come to give me a hug. Within seconds, we’re
laughing.

We laugh, giggle, and forget all about it. At least until the next time
you find something you can’t have.

My son, I know it’s frustrating to not be able to have everything you
want and I know it’s annoying to not be express yourself clearly, but I
promise it will get better with time. I love you very much and I wish
you were a bit more patient and got a little less mad. While your
routine is so predictable and almost funny at this point, it still
breaks my heart a little each time I see those tears come flooding down.