By Heather O.
J was pokey this morning. And when I say pokey, I mean that I wish I’d had a pointy stick to poke him with so he could get moving. As the morning wore on, and he was minutes away from needing to head to the bus stop, I said, “WAIT! SCRIPTURES!”
I grabbed the Book of Mormon and read 3 verses aloud to J, who was standing at the door, ready to walk out. In essence, I didn’t really read scriptures to my son. I sort of just threw them at him. Kinda like a poptart launched from the toaster as the kid walks out the door (wasn’t there a commercial like that? No? Well, there should have been Why doesn’t anybody ever ask me about these things?).
I called DH (who is coming home tonight. Hally-looya), and told him about the morning.
“Yeah, we didn’t really get scripture time in,” and told him what happened.
“Well, getting a scripture tossed at you as you walked out the door is better than nothing.”
Can you see why I married this man? He’s so rational, so calm, and always makes me feel better. Plus, he’s an awesome kisser.
So as my day wore on, I was faced with the decision of whether or not I should go to my Pilates class. I have been fairly lazy of late. What, with lots of snow days for the kids, hubby’s crazy work schedule, and my firm belief that, come December, women are supposed to eat large amounts of fat and spend most of their time hibernating until March, I haven’t been out much.
I had the following conversation with myself:
“You should go. You know you’ll feel better.”
“Yes, but it’s a hassle. I hate getting ready, I’m already late, I feel like a dork walking in after class has started, and I’m just not in that great of shape anymore. I won’t be able to do as much as the other women.”
” Remember what DH said. Not doing much is better than doing nothing.”
So, I packed up my toddler, and I walked into class a full 15 minutes late, had to do the “modified” version of most of the exercises, and dang it, I did feel better. Then I headed to the pool, and had another conversation with myself:
“Go ahead. Do some laps. You have to get in shape for your race this summer.
“It’s cold. I’m out of shape, summer is far away, and I’m tired from the Pilates. I’ll just do a few laps, okay?”
“Okay. A few laps is better than nothing.”
I did more than a few laps. Just like running, when I struggle the most with the first mile, the first few laps were tough. But then my body remembered what it’s like to go into endurance mode, and I got into a rhythm. My better than nothing turned into an bonafide workout.
I got my phone bill yesterday, the one with the Haiti text charge. It looked like a pretty small donation, especially compared to what I’m willing to pay just for phone service. But today, as I paid it, I thought, “Small is better than nothing.”
I’m not saying that I should always do things small, but often I worry about doing things right, or, more accurately, NOT doing things right, that I don’t do them at all. Sure, my children will benefit from a sit down scripture-reading experience. Sure, I would do better if I exercised like I used to. Sure, Haiti could use more of my money. But when the mornings are pokey, when I’m feeling like I’d rather act like a pregnant polar bear, and when money seems a little tight, something is better than nothing.
And no, the polar bear reference thing is not a veiled announcement about me being pregnant. It’s a subtle reference to my earlier statement about getting fat and hibernating. Preferably in a dark room–hence, the polar bear reference. ‘Cause I think their caves are dark. And warm. Although, if you are a hibernating polar bear, you DO have to come out eventually and face blinding sun on a desert of ice. And you know, that probably sucks. Maybe I’ll just hibernate under my own covers instead.
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