I started this little blog with the intention of releasing my inner voice. Since Olivia was born, its been a struggle finding balance between family, friends, and me-time. However, never in a million years, did I expect to receive the kind words I receive from loyal readers like YOU. Your messages, pictures, and stories are always appreciated and most importantly, inspiring. As some of you know, I have a Facebook page to keep you immediately informed of any updates on the Pink Elephant blog, along with your daily dose of inspiration. To my surprise, 71 friends from around the globe have joined this Facebook page. Near and very afar, friends and strangers have joined together in this little community called the Pink Elephant and I couldn't be more thrilled to have you along for this journey. Let's see where it continues to take us. For now, thank you for your continued support, your beautiful messages, your likes, continually sharing my page, and thank you for the love. My dream is to continue writing thought-provoking and relatable stories that touch and inspire the heart. Your hearts.
Thank you, friends. Have a beautiful day. Tiffany For your daily quote fix and updates on The Pink Elephant blog, "like" our Facebook page, here. Pictures were borrowed from Google.
Warning: Turn back now if your squeamish to a little love story!
My husband and I have been together now pushing 10 years and married 4 years today. I never get tired of calling him my husband, my partner in love and life, or my best friend. I like to think I am his better half, however (wink, wink). Most marriages don't last as long as our relationship has and I can honestly say, I love him more today than I did yesterday or years past.
Brandon was the loud, funny, and the oh-so-charming popular boy in school. I was the quiet girl in the back of the classroom, just another face lost in a sea of a thousand students. He surely didn't know who I was but everyone knew who he was. He was into fast cars, girls, and car clubs. I was into Luke Perry, my little group of friends, and whatever else went on within the 4-walls of my room. I remember his cool demeanor, wild hair, and facial hair to immature to fill-in. With a beeper hooked by a chain to his baggy pants, never would I have imagined this boy to be my husband years later.
Fast forward: We were at a mutual friend's house when Brandon and I met for the first time. Like a scene out of Romeo and Juliet, Brandon got a glimpse of his future bride for the first time and looking down off the balcony was little ol' me. O Tiffany, Tiffany! Wherefore art thou Tiffany? Not exactly how it went yet... He asked his friend who I was and who I was with...? He responded, "She will one day be my girlfriend." True story. Years later and as love, fate, and timing would have it, Brandon and I eventually became a couple.
I took my time falling in love with Brandon, as I've mentioned in previous posts. It was gradual for me. Brandon was ready to propose after a few months... and he did. To my shock and awe, I ran into the bathroom. I felt sick. Looked in the mirror and evaluated the situation... I wasn't ready! "I love you, Brandon. I really do. It's not that I don't want to marry you, I'm just not ready for that yet. We haven't even gotten into a fight!" With sad puppy-dog eyes, I think he understood. The scene of us riding off into the sunset with little blue birds holding a sign that read "And they lived happily ever after" was put on hold. Yet, just like that, our fairy tale love continued, each phase in our lives together, a new chapter.
Brandon and I got married in Aspen, Colorado, where we exchanged our vows at the base of the Maroon Bells peak. Amongst scenery so beautiful it would take your breath away, our family, and closest friends, we said, "I do." We danced the night away, toasted to our new life as husband and wife, and shared many everlasting memories together. Now as our little family grows, so does my love for my hubby, Brandon.
I knew you and I would be together forever the instant things got serious for us. The moment you broke threw my walls and caved any of my doubts. You came into my heart like a love I've never known. I could feel it! It wasn't just the tingles or butterflies, it was the pain you feel when you truly love someone. Like Columbus discovered America, you've managed to find every mole on my body. Many I didn't even know existed. You get a thrill out of discovering all my new gray hairs or the one pesky black hair that pops up out of my old-lady chin. You share my thoughts, dreams, and passions. You are there to listen and talk, well, lots of talking. You are there to make me laugh even when I'm annoyed with you. You are there to put a roof over our head and food in our bellies. I love our lazy days on the couch during a wild rain storm. I love how you love me, my family, your family, and our family. I love seeing that twinkle in your eye when you look at Olivia. I love how all our problems disappear when we are in each other's arms. I love how safe you make me feel. I love your willingness to help a stranger, to make someone's day a little brighter. I love your aspirations, goals, and drive. I love how hard you work for your family. I love your desire to help needy children and the elderly. I love you more than words could ever fully describe. Simply put, I love you.
Don't get me wrong, friends. Brandon and I have had are ups and downs. Marriage is work and we continue to work through them. There was a time during our first year of marriage where I didn't know if I could continue on. I truly was ready to throw in the towel. We both had to learn to adapt to our new partner because when you move in with someone, it really is like starting a new relationship. For instance, Brandon has to be the messiest man I have ever known. No matter which room I go into, there is a sock full of holes in it. Cole Haan: the special holes addition. He hasn't quite mastered putting his dirty clothes in the hamper and therefore, Marley has bravely chewed his way through all of his socks. He is like a tornado, I know where he's been because he'll always leave his mark. Poor guy, however. He married a nut. He didn't know how big of a nut until he bit in and damn near broke a tooth. Our closet is color coordinated by style of shirt and pants. My grocery carts are organized like a Tetris game. Cold foods have to stick together of course. Everything about me is organized. Well, almost everything. Yet, we managed to find some sort of balance and still love each other without killing one another. Moreover, he loves to cook. My best dish, is a bowl of kashi cereal. He loves me anyways. Some days, his gas smells like an animal crawled in his stomach and died. I love him anyways. I burp like a man. He still loves me and miraculously finds me sexy. He snores like freight train. I hog all the covers and the bed. Yet, we still cuddle throughout the night. I hate his rap music but he loves my dancing to it. He prays at night. I talk like a sailor. Through thick and thin, stinky smog, crude language, socks and open drawers, music that gives me anxiety, snoring, and man-burps, we still love to love each other.
Finally, I am very fortunate to have a bond with my husband that some may never learn to know. People always told me, "Your relationship changes after you have kids." They weren't lying. Our relationship has changed, we are no exception. However, their undertones were negative. This is one lie I was told and will expose. Our relationship has changed for the better. Our family has become a little fortress, that nothing can harm. We were always in love, but Olivia has brought out another love in us, towards each other. It's respect, admiration, appreciation, gratitude, and special kind of love only we know. It's the love in our hugs. It's the feeling in our touch. It's the electric spark in our kisses. It's a look that only we can understand. It's time growing together and learning from each other. It's our love.
As we ride off into the sunset on this journey called life, the little blue birds hold up our signs saying, "Happily Ever After Continues..."
My life is but a dream. With the help of my husband, we have begun a beautiful little family. We have a happy home filled with love and laughter. We have food on the table and a roof over our head. Our daughter fills our home with light and smiles. Life is good.
Before Olivia came into my life, I was sternly told not to lose myself: Go out. Find time for yourself. Relax. Relaxing is overrated when you have a nine-month old. I am never alone and haven't been alone for almost 2 years. Just going to the bathroom has become a spectator's sport. Because my bathroom now smells like roses, Olivia has crawled to my feet, looks up at me, smiles and giggles. Now the chihuahuas are in the bathroom with us. Olivia is screaming and playing with them. Marley and Emma are jumping on her, jumping on me and before I know it, what was about to go down, has now crawled back up. Yes, while this is not the cutest smelling story, that is life, that is my life, and the life of many other mommies out there.
Since I graduated from college back in 2008, I have had difficulty finding my place in this world. One thing I know for sure, motherhood is a part of me and was always supposed to be. I wouldn't trade this life for any other, and I truly mean this. Yet, in terms of a career, I haven't found my stride. I've dabbled in this and that jobs but nothing that has tugged at my heart strings. I have been stuck in this rut. I have always said, things have a funny way of working themselves out. It may make you crazy or even gain a couple gray hairs, but things will work out. Recently, a friend posted a link on Facebook about a "Mommy Makeover" contest. Sign me up, I thought! With enthusiasm, I sent in my best letter of why they should pick me and along with 5 other girls, we were selected for U&Me Magazine's First annual Mommy Makeover Contest. I'm soooo excited and I just can't hide it...! This truly is the kick in the ass I need to feel empowered, work on my fitness and nutrition goals, and meet some really amazing people. Did I mention I was excited? This lifestyle overhaul includes a makeover, prepared meals delivered to my door from Fit2Go, nutrition guru Kathleen Szczech, and much more. I am very thankful U&Me magazine has chosen me, along with my new friends. I want to take this opportunity by the horns and run with it!
I have a laundry pile as far as the eye can see, an endless supply of bottles and dirty dishes, floors to clean daily, and I still haven't landed my dream job. I have a giant pimple on my forehead, my hair is covered in Mum-Mum crumbs, and today I've changed more caca diapers than my garbage can hold, but for now, I am simply going to enjoy Olivia and my pups. I'll worry about everything else at a later time. I'm going to inhale this amazing life I lead and exhale the negatives. While some days I may be tired and cranky, today is not one of them. I can choose to be bothered by things or smile at everything else. Ultimately, it is my decision. I choose to be happy. In life, we all dictate the roads we choose. While there may be bumps in our paths, it is how we choose to challenge these unfortunate problems in our lives that can make or break our spirits. I choose happiness. I choose life. I choose to smile. When life gets the best of me all I have to do is look at Olivia, tell her how much I love her in my most high-pitched, squeaky voice, and in return I always get a crooked, toothy grin that knows true love when she hears it.
Congratulations to all the winners in the Mommy Makeover contest. :)
This Sunday, I will be celebrating MY first Mother's Day. I never thought there would come a day where I would be blessed with a daughter and often questioned if I was the right fit for motherhood. Yet, as fate would have it, I have a twenty pound little girl dreaming a dream, sleeping across my chest, as I type this on my phone. I'm loving every second of motherhood. More than I thought I ever would! I love the smell of her baby cologne in her chick-fine hair. I love that her little fingers slowly grip my arm. I love feeling her heartbeat sync with mine. I love listening to her soft breath and occasionally letting out her big sigh. I love the smell of her baby breath when she lets out those deep sighs. I love knowing that in exactly 45 minutes she wakes up for lunch. I love when she wakes up, she rises and shines with a smile. I love that her softly scented hair, wakes up to a teased 80's punk look. I love my daughter like a weed loves a crack in the sidewalk. She is my best teacher, the other love of my life, my little Mimi-me. I grew up very attached to my mom. I was her mini-me, and we were destined to take on the world... together. My wings were never clipped and to this day, I am still attached to my mom's hip. I slept in her bed till I moved out of the house (don't judge me). She is the one I complain to and the woman who makes me whole. She kept clothes on my back and my tummy full. She still tells me what to wear and I still complain I'm not cool enough for the trendy clothes she insist I wear. She subliminally controls my thoughts and I still value her opinion. This is the same woman who will tell me to watch my calories just as I finished a mouth-watering burger. Everything must be sugar-free and low-carb. She'll point out my new wrinkles and than inform me of the latest wrinkle blaster. She drives me fucking nuts sometimes and yet, I wouldn't trade her for any other mom! She will always be my comfort wubby. More importantly, she gave me life. Love me or hate me, she made me, me. "Families are like fudge, mostly sweet with a few nuts," and we are no exception. My mom was born in Cuba and eventually moved to the states at an early age. No, she did not come here by a makeshift raft and swim eagerly to shore. She did it the legal way and eventually received her citizenship. A rebel in designer labels, she loves to have fun. She is always dressed to the nines and ready for a good time. She insist you dress your best because you never know when you will run into someone. She is the first voice I hear in my head every time I run into someone and I'm dressed like poo. She has a heart of gold. No, not literally, however, she would insist it's a diamond, ha. She does so much for her friends and family. More than anyone is willing to give her credit for. She is a wonderful listener and is always the first to give positive feedback and advice. She never hesitates to help when asked and she'd give you the only dollar she had left if you needed it. Slowly but surely, I find myself doing the things that I would've cringed and cursed at my mom for doing. It's inevitable...
Oh my God, I'm turning into my mother... and it's okay. If I can be half the mother to Olivia that she was and continues to be for me, than I know Olivia will be a sugar-free, low-carb, fashionista, and totally awesome! So on this Mother's Day, my first Mother's Day, I want to acknowledge my mommy. All that I am and all that I know to be, is thanks to her. You may not be perfect but you are perfect for me! Thank you for being the best mom, friend, and grandma a daughter could ever ask for. I love you. We love you.
All pictures above were borrowed from Pinterest. Pictures below are from my Facebook page.
Have you ever experienced a traumatic event in your lifetime that it continues to haunt you many years later? Tragic events, milestones, and happier moments in your life all eventually manifest into the person you are today. It is how we overcome these adversities, relinquish in the positives, and move past the problems of yesterday, that define a more wholesome you. It takes courage, healing, a positive team, and constant reinforcement. It is not something that can be tackled within a few hours, weeks, or years. It takes time and constant work. It may even take a lifetime. For some, it is something they'll never forget. These individuals will move through life, bobbing and weaving through that memory. And for others, they are merely just existing in the fear as life passes them by. We've all experienced fearful moments, some worse than others. Yet, one thing remains the same for all of us, the effect it leaves behind.
The year was 1996 and it was a typical muggy day in Miami when ValuJet 592 crashed into the Everglades. This fatal crash was a result of a fire that broke out on-board and when a request came in for an emergency landing, it vanished from the radar screens. The airplane, along with 110 people on-board, nose-dived at above average speeds and what remained was bits of metal and human flesh floating in the swampy waters of the Everglades. While this particular airplane crash is yesterday's tragedy and a story to tell, I have not forgotten the images on the TV, nor will the boy in my class, who's father died so tragically that day. This event has certainly left me with an indirect fear of flying that will forever be tattooed into my brain. I am not one who thrives off the butterflies in my stomach while on a roller coaster ride, nor the thrill down a steep water-slide. It literally scares me. Yet, I will not let fear keep me from exploring my world. It does however, take time and preparation when I travel. I have to mentally prepare myself for the trip. I have to fly certain airlines and at certain times of the day just to put my mind at ease. Hey, whatever works to get me on an aircraft! Nevertheless, with time, a little piece of a Xanax, and more traveling, my fears will subside and like the crash of flight 592, this fear will be a distant memory.
On August 24, 1992, the costliest storm in American history swept across Miami. And like a thief in the night, Hurricane Andrew, robbed a lot of families of a life they once knew. Miami consisted of a fun and sun, a thriving night life, and a boasting economy. However, it was no match for Andrew. Check mate, bitch! My mom was preparing for battle. She mustered up all the flashlights, batteries, and candles. Bottled up all the water and filled up all the bathtubs. Everything first aid, bleach, alcohol, and MRE's. We were prepared for any scenario Andrew was ready to throw at us. Andrew was reportedly expected to blow through Miami Beach and the surrounding neighborhoods but like all hurricanes, it's track was unpredictable, and shifted south. A category 5 hurricane swept through southern parts of Miami-Dade with no remorse. My family and I huddled up in our hallway as the winds shattered every window in our house. The roof being ripped up, room by room. My parents left us alone in the hallway for a good portion of the storm trying to keep the door closed so nothing could harm us. The noises still haunt me to this day. I remember the wind whipping my hair around and like a horror film, the flashes of light bursting through what used to be windows and doors. Nothing was left but the concrete walls and I do mean, nothing. The house my grandfather helped to build was merely walls and nothing else. The water was up to our ankles and what once was a blue pool, consisted of a swing set, patio furniture, trees, and debris. This was our worst nightmare and I was just waiting for someone to wake me up. All we had known was gone within a few hours. I'll never forget the smell of our house, the fear, or the howling of the wind. To this day, I have trouble going out if an anticipated storm is expected to hit. I constantly check the weather for updates and advisories. And still jump a little during a terrible thunderstorm. Once your house shakes and roars, no thunderstorm can ever be the same.
My first furry, four-legged love, Puppy, was MY first dog. He was my first realization into the importance of having a pet and the everlasting bond between man and a dog. He was my BFF. I cuddled him like an infant and took him everywhere I could. And like a baby with its blanket, he was my comfort. One early morning, while walking to my car with Puppy, I felt a tug in the leash. When I turned around, he was ripped from his leash by a wolf, dragged away from me, locked in the jaws of this beast by his neck. This wild animal took my dog, continually throwing him up in the air and catching him like a rag doll, violently shaking him. His screams that day are all to familiar and a sound I will NEVER forget. I ran half a block down the road, chasing after this animal and Puppy while screaming, begging for someone to help me. Help us. It was my instinct. In retrospect, it may not have been a wise choice, but I wasn't going to let my dog die in the mouth of this killer. Not on my watch! During a split instant when Puppy was thrown in the air, I grabbed him. He attacked me not knowing it was me. I said, "Puppy, it's me," and repeated this over and over. I held him tightly, never giving this animal another chance to get to him. There I was, being circled by this wolf with nothing between me and him but the grace of God. Finally, I hear a young voice saying, "Dad, help me! Help me!" It was the son of the owners dog. The father, a sick and sad individual to drunk for his own good, stood there, just watching, excited by what he just sat back and spectated. This individual who was as deranged as his dog would allow this dog to attack other animals in the area. He got a rise out of the torture. Finally, the dog was taken away and I was left with a dog full of puncture wounds and he was literally bleeding out. We were both covered in blood. The police were called and to no surprise, the owner and his dog fled the scene. My best friend, my little Puppy, survived this attack. Shockingly, and as luck would have it, he was attacked two more times by my brother's dog. Again, surviving each attack. Following these horrific attacks, Puppy was never the same and neither was I. My dog lived a long, healthy life. He lived a wonderful life, but sadly, my little Puppy passed away a short time ago. I was devastated! I was angry. Hurt. Sad. Depressed. I lived in guilt. I would lay my head in his UM bed just to smell his memory. In time, my heart has healed but I have never forgotten. I can still hear his screams in my head and smell the blood on my shirt. To this day, I have reoccurring nightmares of the attacks. I have developed a fear of large animals and prefer not to go near them. I try to be strong and courageous around other friend's dogs but that fear is always knocking on the walls of my cranium letting me know it's there.
PTSD is real. Fear is real. It is how you come to terms with it, is what separates you from the fear itself. I will never forget some of the events I have been through in my lifetime. I've learned to coexist with my fears. They do not dictate my life. They live in me like the day they occurred. My fears will always echo in my memory, however it is now but a whisper in the wind. I was not put on this earth to live in a prison that is fear, but to thrive from it's challenges. This is my mission.
Should you be interested in learning more about PTSD and what you can do to shut it up, click here.
The following story was not written with the intentions to insult or put blame on any one person or persons. This was intended to bring awareness and light to the millions of children who have been abandoned by their father and are experiencing what I like to call, "Daddy Drama." This is astonishing, according to the U.S. Census 2010, the number of children living in single-parent households has nearly doubled since the 1960's. I am saddened by the statistics and the future of our children who are growing up in single-parent households. It's never to late to reconnect with your children, friends.
I was fortunate enough to grow up with two parents in a beautifully blessed life. I went to a fabulous school, grew up in a wonderful and safe neighborhood, and most importantly, I had two parents who gave my brothers and I the best life they knew how to give us. On August 24, 1992, Hurricane Andrew ripped through Miami. As fast as Andrew came and went, so did my parent's marriage. My parents had a marriage longer than most, approximately fifteen years. I blinked and just like that, the Graver's were another statistic and the talk amongst Miami gossip for all who knew them. I was about fifteen years young when my parents divorced. My brothers were at a more tender and vulnerable age, between ten and thirteen years young. The divorce had a larger impact on the boys than myself. I'll never forget the day, we were sitting in my room when my mom told me, "We are getting a divorce." I was numb and to be honest, I was probably thinking about when I could go back outside and play with my friends in the neighborhood.
Life was tough, it took years for my family to recover from Hurricane Andrew. They spent years repairing what took a total of a few hours to destroy. The foundation was broken and so was our family. If the structure isn't standing, everything inside crumbles, and we were no strangers to that. My parents split and my father left the state when his children needed him most. My mom was left to raise three teenagers in an environment she tried to keep "normal". However, there was nothing normal about it. Everything we were used to was no longer readily available. Private school was no longer an option. Food and electricity was tough to come by. Shopping and fun with friends, see ya! We were left to survive and we did just that, survive. I will never truly know how my mom did it all, as she made it her mission to keep us in the life we always knew. My grandparents played a pivotal role in the lives of my brother and I. They helped keep the lights on, our tummies filled, and clothes on our backs.
Throughout the years, in friends, other family members, volunteerism, reviewing research, and my own personal life, I've learned that the absence of a male presence can change the course of a young life. Without the male presence, a life is being robbed of it's fullest potential indefinitely and the lives to come after them. Shockingly, nearly 15 million children are being raised without a father. If that's not a crisis, I don't know what is. The effects of a child growing up without their father are endless. A growing number of studies is now showing that children growing up without a male-figure has proven to have a negative impact on social emotional development of children that continues to haunt them into adulthood. In addition, the child is more likely to engage in delinquent behaviors. Older children may become sexual at an early age or self-medicate their angst and anxiety with alcohol and drugs. Children may develop deep-rooted insecurities that affect their trust through friendships, dating, and other relationships. They may find themselves depressed because the abandonment has lead them to feel inadequate for not keeping their father around. It's a vicious cycle that can be continued into adulthood and follow into their children's children. This of course does not mean that every child will live a damaged life. Some children are naturally more resilient than others, according to Psych Central. They may have more support or readjust to the world around them as they mature. I am lucky enough to be amongst those few. Additionally, a father and a mother is a child's first love. They are the fortress that is supposed to protect an innocent child's heart. With all the love, support, help, or counseling, there is no way to fully replace the void of their missing parent and they will forever remain with a hole in their heart.
Moreover, I'm thirty-two years old, I'm married to a wonderful man who loves me unconditionally and loves our daughter whole-heartedly. I am fortunate that I am not lacking love in anyway. I am blessed to not harbor feelings of abandonment or resentment because where my father lacked, my grandfather swooped in to pick up the pieces for my brothers and I. I am not a little girl in search for her daddy. I am stronger than that and always have been. I have fully accepted the relationship I have with my dad and can only hope he makes up for his absence in being there for Olivia. My desire in writing this is to bring attention to all the children out there experiencing a life with anguish and abandonment. To be their voice when no one is listening, to be their light when there is no light at all, and to bring awareness to the epidemic sweeping across our country. We are at an all-time high in America with drug abuse, teen pregnancies, alcohol abuse, sexual abuse, physical abuse, obesity, depression, etc, etc... It all starts with us, the parents. We are paving the future for our children. I've always stressed, if they fail, we all fail. While I may be another statistic and know many people who suffer with a little case of Daddy Drama, I will not let the same fate fall onto Olivia. That cycle rests in peace with me. Period.
Life is all about choices. Not even God can change the cards that has been dealt to me, my brothers, or any other child out there. And for any child out there reading this who has ever experienced feelings of abandonment, filling your heart with anger changes who you are. It changes the type of friend you are, the type of brother or sister you will be, and most importantly, it limits you to be the best parent that you can be and in turn, inhibits your child to be the best they can be. It changes every path you take in life. You have one life. You can live in anger or make a better life for you and/or your family. Don't let past mistakes of another dictate the best future you deserve to have. Let this be the first step you take towards a better life. The cycle stops here.
Brandon likes to keep Olivia awake in the evening for selfish reasons like playing and spending time with his daughter. While, I, the crazy drill Sergeant who thrives off a schedule, insist she be bathed, fed, and knocked out by 8:30 P.M. I too, have selfish reasons for it. Yet, with a twinkle in daddy's eye, a big belly laugh from Olivia, and a smile from mommy, well, who am I to spoil those moments? After all, these are the moments we cherish most.
Last night, before preparing for bed, Brandon, Olivia, myself, and the pups were all laying around. We were catching up on our day, sharing stories, laughing, talking shit, typical Smith family stuff. During a couple moments of silence, Brandon, while looking at Olivia, says to me, "I was crying last night." I was shocked. This boy never cries! I proceeded to ask him, "Why? How come you didn't wake me," I said with a nervous giggle. "Is everything okay?" Olivia is teething and it's been fairly difficult on her. She hasn't been feeling her best and will periodically wake up in the middle of the night. Last night Brandon brought her in our bed after repeated attempts to calm her down. As a result, he couldn't go back to sleep so he hopped on the Internet to watch TV as he always does. He stumbled upon this video that was recorded shortly after the devastating earth quake in Haiti.
Before you read any further, make sure to watch this video in its entirety so you can understand my story. It's not just a great song. Pay attention to the children. Enjoy :)
With watery eyes, Brandon continues to tell me how lucky our daughter is. How blessed she is. With so much devastation all over the world we are so fortunate to have a happy, healthy, vibrant little girl with the means to put a solid roof over her head, food in her belly, and nice clothes on her back. As we watched the video above, together, Brandon pointed out all the happy children. He explained, these children have nothing and probably always had nothing and they are still so happy. He proved a very valid point. He also said, "My daughter has made me such a softy!" To which I replied, "Love, you were always mushy, she just brings it out of you." While it's true, Olivia has brought out an even more sensitive side in all of us, she has also made us more aware and sympathetic to other children and not just our own.
We don't dictate the lives we are born into. The children in this video were playing games with whatever was lying around, no shoes, some had no teeth, and bared a happier soul than people like us. We take for granted the life we lead in a country such as ours. While I have complained that I want a newer car, someone is just hoping that their 3-legged donkey gets them to work on-time. Shame on me! WE, all of US, are so lucky. We don't realize how blessed we are as a nation. While we are fortunate enough to look up at the stars, others have bombs to light up their sky. We have clean, bottled and/or tap water to drink and shower from, while others drink from a local river, well, or bucket. I'm sure they don't have a Bath and Body Works on every corner splashing us with floral scented anti-bacterial this and that's. We have a great nation that boasts education and technology, hybrid cars, air conditioning and heat, flat screen TV's, etc, etc. Yet, we have the audacity to complain we have nothing or not enough... Shame on all of us. Perhaps, we have too much and have become spoiled. Perhaps, it is time we take a look inside each of us and truly see it is not the stuff that keeps us living, it is the love, the passion ignited within us. Think about it...
Moreover, my husband and I continued our conversation about life and he said, "I just want to adopt one of these children. I want to rescue them and give them a better life." This among many reasons, is why I married this man. He knows I've always expressed an interest in adopting a child and for the first time, I think he felt the same way. While the future is unknown for the growing Smith family, I do know our hearts beat loudly and have the willingness to bring some outside love, in.
Lastly, remember to let love in, friends. Love is the reason for our existence. It keeps us passionate, hungry, and foolish. Take time to appreciate the small things. We all want nicer and newer things, however we mustn't forget all the beautiful things we already have in our lives, such as, each other. Give up buying things you don't need. Learn to manage your money wisely so your money doesn't control you. Live simply. We should not live in the past, as it is already forgotten. Instead, exist in the present. Today. Right now. Right here in this moment, is the only thing that is guaranteed. Finally, try to better the life of one person. You may change their whole world. While it may not be the whole world, it is one world. Start small. Start now. Have a beautiful weekend, friends. The Smith's love you.
I started this little blog with the intention of releasing my inner voice. Since Olivia was born, its been a struggle finding balance between family, friends, and me-time. However, never in a million years, did I expect to receive the kind words I receive from loyal readers like YOU. Your messages, pictures, and stories are always appreciated and most importantly, inspiring. As some of you know, I have a Facebook page to keep you immediately informed of any updates on the Pink Elephant blog, along with your daily dose of inspiration. 
