Patience is a Virtue

Or so the saying goes. I don’t have patience. I think having patience would be amazing. It is definitely something I am striving for. I just get so irritated with people and situations that require patience. For example, what inspired this post is someone who should know better emailed me and asked me if our website was updated with some particular information. Really? Is this person so incompetent that they can’t check the website themselves? Seriously? The most frustrating part about this whole scenario is that this isn’t the first time I’ve had this kind of question. I suppose I am exercising some sort of patience with these people because I literally have to close the email do something else for a bit and then respond nicely. If that isn’t patience, then I don’t know what else is.

Speaking of patience. I’ve mentioned before that Neil and I teach 3 year olds at church. I wanted to love this calling. I wanted to tell funny stories about them. I wanted to just think they are the cutest little kids ever. But that is not the case. This is absolutely the hardest calling I have ever had. Just two weeks ago Neil and I had to take our turn doing sharing time. This was our second time. Our first sharing time did not go as well as I would have liked. So I decided something big, flashy, and exciting was in order for our next sharing time. So I spent weeks planning and days preparing the best sharing time lesson ever. Well, this one didn’t go as planned either. We are asked to include the kids in our class for our presentation which is difficult when you have 3 year olds. They can’t read and their attention span is non-existent. So we decided to have them hold pictures for our game. We have 12 kids on our roll and we average about 4-7 each week. The weeks prior to our sharing time we were only having about 4 kids coming regularly. Which is much easier to manage. But of course on our sharing time day 9 kids show up. Do you realize how difficult it is to manage that many 3 year olds? Well, it was one thing just to get them to stand quietly holding their picture and a whole other thing when about 4 of the kids had melt downs right there in front of the primary because they didn’t get to play the game. In fact, one of them had to be taken out by the Primary President all while we were trying to do our lesson. Somehow, we made it through but I had a melt down of my own. I had worked so hard preparing and studying the lesson and then to just have it fail miserably was difficult. Then we had to still make it through singing time and teach our class lesson.

I have no patience for children. I can’t understand when we ask them to sit in their seats, or stop hitting their neighbor or to be quiet, they just look at you and continue with whatever they were doing. I also have little patience for some of their parents. We actually had a parent that peeked into the primary room and saw her child army crawling around the room while we were chasing him down but didn’t do anything. When she picked him up after class she said, “Sorry he doesn’t behave very well and did you take him to the bathroom?” What am I suppose to say to that? “Yeah, we are sorry too. Too bad he doesn’t have a parent that disciplines him and takes him to the bathroom themselves?” I hate to criticize parents because I am not one. Nor is this helping me to find confidence in order to be one but still I would just hope that I knowingly wouldn’t let my child reign terror in primary.

I suppose I am an awful person for publicly sharing my thoughts on this subject. I suppose I am in no way working on developing patience if I am just complaining about the situations that could make me a better person. But honestly in some ways venting about the trauma that primary has caused makes me feel better. Plus, it has given me just enough time to cool off and respond nicely to that email.

Ouch

Today has been rough so far. It hurts to move, it even hurts to sit. Last night was an intense rehearsal for my upcoming performance. Over the last several weeks, I have literally been taking ibuprofen like it is candy. I can’t even go through the night without waking up in excruciating pain and having to take more pain pills. I have been doing aerobic and weight training between rehearsals trying to kick my body back into dancing shape but for some reason my body is protesting. I use to love the feel of pain because it meant my muscles and body was becoming toned and fit. Now, I just want the pain to go away. It is just not worth it.

At the beginning of the year one of my sisters suggested our family hold our own Biggest Loser contest. Neil and I chose not to participate for various reasons but we decided we would do it on our own. But we would make it about becoming and staying healthy rather than just losing weight. So around January 5 we weighed ourselves and then began making changes to our lifestyle. To take the focus off of weight we decided we would not weigh ourselves again until July 1. So we have been faithfully exercising a minimum of 20 minutes every day, eating more servings of fruits and veggies and drinking more water. Well, at least that is how it started out. Our faithful exercise has faltered some but is not completely non-existent. We both got sick a few weeks ago, so it was difficult to exercise then and then get back into it. In my defense I still dance 4 hours a week so sometimes I take a break, okay? Anyway, after the first few weeks I cheated and wanted to weigh myself because I had been working so hard and I felt like it would be a good reward. I was dead wrong. I had actually gained a few pounds. Right before I threw the scale through the bathroom wall, Neil did his best to reassure me that it was muscle weight. Then I realized we should have measured our bodies instead of just weighing ourselves. In any case this is what has led me to believe that it is not worth it. I hurt and I want it to go away along with a few more pounds.

the car goes where the eyes go

I promised myself if I was going to blog I was going to blog everyday. I think that went out the window during the first week of blogging. I started blogging because everyone else was doing it. Then I continued blogging because I was in a sense journaling my life which I haven’t done since college. Then I faltered but continued to blog because it was nice to receive comments on my life because that doesn’t happen if I just go back to pen and paper. But lately my mind and emotions have been all over the place and I haven’t had the time, energy or words to pen my life. I have a serious case of writers block. Beginning this blog reawakened my love of writing. Did you know that many years ago I wanted to be a writer? My childhood friend and I even pulled out spiral bound notebooks and began writing short fiction stories that were full of our teenage angst. I wonder if I still have those stories. I didn’t become a writer because Junior High and High School happened. Somehow, all of those required English classes took every ounce of desire to write out of me. I hated writing 5 paragraph essays on topics that I couldn’t care less about. I dreaded even more reading classical literature and poems and having to extrapolate deep seeded meanings when in all reality how does anyone know what the long dead author really intended? So how could I be wrong when I said what I thought it meant? But apparently I could be wrong.

To make a long story short, I haven’t been able to form words and sentences to update this blog.

However, I have been reading an excellent book by Garth Stein called The Art of Racing in the Rain. I wouldn’t recommend this book to anyone who has not loved a dog. This book is from the perspective of a dog recounting his life along with his beloved master Denny. I’ve realized that as I have been comparing books with others that sometimes our opinions of books are vastly different. I have realized that what makes me love a book is if it inspires me in some way. I have realized that what inspires me may very well not inspire you. Maybe if I had read this book ten years ago or ten years from now it may not have had the affect it has. I literally read the first 100 pages of this book with tears streaming down my face because I couldn’t help but wonder how my dog would recount my life. Anyway, another interesting element to this book is that the main character Denny is a race car driver. So the dog relates many of life’s lessons to race car driving. One statement he makes is “the car goes where the eyes go.” Meaning whatever you are focused on is where you will end up. This of course could mean many different things to many different people. But to me it gave me a new resolve to not let all of the little things around me distract me from where I want to end up. Lately, I have been focusing on a million different things and I felt like I was getting nowhere. I let my focus change and I went in a million different directions. I want to be better at letting the little distractions go and keep focused on where I want to go. It is easier said then done but it is nice to have inspiration every once in awhile.

2 Years Down

What can I say? It has been a fabulous two years and I am looking forward for what is to come.

Another day in the life....

Yesterday afternoon when I found my grocery list attached to the travel arrangements I was making for my boss, I realized that I needed to take a break and welcome the dysfunction. I was worried that I would accidentally call my boss and tell him what to get at the grocery store and then tell Neil about his next trip to Iowa.

Luckily, I now only have one list I am working on and few less piles on my desk. I am still bewildered with why people think the way they do. I am amazed by how many people do not know how to use the internet or can read for that matter.

I was told today by someone that it was strange that I do not know sign language and I work on a project that tests interpreters for the deaf. She was trying to tell me how she was afraid to test in another state that I will not name (in order to stay neutral) because they might have an accent that she wouldn't understand (referring to an accent in sign language????). She also shared some quite racist remarks about another group of people that she can't understand "their" sign language. Anyway, after a conversation that went on like that for 15 minutes, I decided that after months of hemming and hawing over whether or not I should learn sign language, I decided I should. Since I am a terrible decision maker, I still may change my mind but I think I am going to take a class in the fall. It is intimidating because my attempt at learning Spanish was laughable. So why do I think I could learn sign language? I'm not sure but I guess I can consider it professional development.

Dysfunction

I don't know what it is but when I have too much to do I become highly dysfunctional. I am feeling extremely overwhelmed with work, with life and just everything. I am an avid list maker but right now I have lists and lists on post-it notes and whatever I can find that I just can't seem to get organized. Everything needs to be done now. So I am feeling very disorganized even though usually my lists are what makes me organized. So because I just don't know where to begin and my mind is going in a million directions, I just can't focus. The less important things seems to keep surfacing. Like checking my email and sending hilarious utube videos to people.

This use to happen all the time in high school when the balance between school, two jobs, and performing on 2 dance companies became too much. I would just break down. I use to cry then and now I just eat chocolate. Most days being busy is ideal and my lists keep me on track. But I think I hit my breaking point today. Instead of tackling the long lists, I would rather blog because that is just one more way to be dysfunctional.

Oh and did I mention that I am performing in a dance concert in April? I figured that since I just wasn't busy enough I would add 4 hours of dancing to my schedule. The problem with this is that I'm not 16 anymore and my body certainly isn't what it was back then. The good thing is that I do enjoy it and it is forcing me to exercise.

In 61 Years....

Several days ago my Mother shared this beautiful and touching story about my grandparents. I've thought a lot about it over the last several days. My grandparents coming to Utah and living with my parents has created a lot of difficult changes in the lives of my family. However, now I am seeing what a wonderful experience this is. My grandparents have lived in California my entire life, so I don't know them that well but now I am getting to know them. I also hope that in 61 years my sweet husband will still want to take me out on Valentine's Day too.