Perspective

When one reads about atrocities that can barely be fathomed by the human mind, it tends to put things in perspective.

Whether it is the tragic Haiti earthquake, or the constant mistreatment of women worldwide, my life is pretty damn good from where I stand.

Ever since I began reading "Half the Sky" by Nicholas D. Kristof, I have found my thought process changing yet again as a woman, single mother, and an American.

I have been trying for some time now to get back to this thankful thought process, and I don't know what in the world was wrong with me.

Americans as a whole have so much to be thankful for. Some say our system is corrupt. Really? Although our system is not perfect, it never will be because it is run by human beings, but so far we have managed for the most part to maintain a certain amount of decorum and healthiness.

We feed those in need via our welfare program although we have a terrible homeless situation. We don't however publicly rape our women just to make a political statement of hate. I'm talking about women and girls who are sometimes ages three and up according to "Half the Sky," and that isn't even the worst of it.

I'm guilty of whining about "stress" as much as any of us. I'm not even saying I will never whine about insignificant things again. I am however, thankful that I'm allowed to express how I feel and have the chance to get an education.

So what if the "love of my life" doesn't pan out? So what if I have to "struggle" to make ends meet? Seriously, there are so many people in this world who will never have any option of surviving or having any good quality of life.

Instead of writing about it, perhaps I will one day be in a real position to make a difference.

And I'm Off...

Today was the start of the spring semester, and I am taking seventeen hours of classes. Basically, I will have no life for the next few months.

This is great though because I won't have time to worry about needless things. Okay, perhaps some of my worries aren't so needless, but if focus wasn't my forte last semester, I have no choice but to make it so this time around.

I have been nervous about the start of this semester as I know that I have Algebra again, and this time I have it everyday at 8 a.m.

Today went really well though. I'm excited about the journey of getting through this and finally graduating with my associate degree. God knows I need to accomplish something to set the stage for my future endeavors.

My saving grace this semester is going to be Zumba! Yes, I had to fill in a one hour credit, so of course I'm taking an aerobic dance class. Zumba is a cross between salsa/latin and hip-hop. At least that is how I explain it. Believe me, those endorphins are going to help me tremendously two days a week.

I am pumped!

Hot Shoes?

Since it is still technically the holiday break, I gave in and let my daughter Scarlett sleep in my bed last night.

We were laying in the bed, and I decided to read the Sumner Parent which is the exact same as the Nashville Parent, but with a different county on the cover.

Scarlett decided she wanted to read it and I tried to give her the copy of "O" the Oprah Magazine since I've already read through it. I showed her the perfume samples she could smell and the pretty purses and shoes.

I start reading an article in Sumner Parent, and she says that she wants that one. "I say, here smell the nice perfume sweetie so mommy can finish." The following dialog is what commenced the next few minutes.

Scarlett: No mommy, it makes me have hot shoes.

Me: Hot shoes?

Scarlett: No! hotshoes!

I'm still not following. Then my mommy brain rewinds rather quickly and for some odd reason remembers watching "Snow White" with her a few days ago. The dwarf Sneezy sneezes when he smells the flowers. Scarlett said, "Those are hotshoe flowers right?" I thought I had corrected her and said that he sneezed and went, "Achoo!" Oh well.

By now I realize what she is trying to say. I say, "Oh, achoo!" She happily nods and says, "Yeah mommy, hotshoes!" "In that case, I'll see if there is an article I haven't read then baby," I tell her. We trade magazines and everyone is happy.

I can't have my four year old coming down with a cruel case of the hotshoes.

As long as she and I are on the same page I can live with her not really knowing what hot shoes are yet! Let's stick with sneakers, Mary Janes and sandals.