As long as we've got eachother, we've got the world spinning right in our hands.

Haven, my three-month-old son, has had a cold for exactly eight days. He coughs like a smoker and screams like a hyenia when I try to syphon the snot from his nose. Breastmilk is worth more than gold to me right now, and one of his bottles spilled inside the diaper bag on the way to daycare this morning. I bought 228 diapers from BJ's and he used a mere 75 before they were suddenly too small.

Haven passed his cold to me about two seconds after he got it. I took a final last night that I should have aced, but I simply did not study enough. The semester ended, but I feel no relief because in less than two weeks I will incorporate an internship into my schedule.

These are my complaints. These are the worst things in my life.

We watched the news after a particularly hair-pulling day. With a voice dampened by emotion, the newsman told the story of a women in the Bronx who knew about loss. That day, as she took her baby out of the car the car began to roll back. In an effort to stop the car, she went to jump in and dropped the child. He was crushed under the tire. Breathless, my eyes swelled. And then the newsman said her husband was killed in Iraq only months ago. The camera flipped back to the studio and the news anchors were drop-jawed.

As my perspective expanded my trials shrunk. I know, there is always somebody worse off than I am, always someone better off, too. How can I compare annoyances with tragedy? I am thankful for that little Zoolander-like cough coming out of Haven, it means he's working to survive this cold. It's okay that all of those expensive diapers are too small, it means he is healthy. It's okay that I have to find 15-hours in my week for my internship; I have the opportunity to go to school.

What difficulties can you turn inside out today?