Friday, June 8, 2012

I hate sweating. In every way.

Liv inherited the Seibold red face gene.  I think she has extra sweat glands on her head because every time she wakes up from a nap her hair looks like she just finished a triathlon, specifically the swimming portion.  I never have to wonder if she's hot because even if it's slightly warm or I don't have the air conditioning on full blast, she instantly turns a deep Valentines Day pink.  She is like Veruca Salt on Willy Wonka except for red instead of blue and she's not spoiled.

I don't like sweating. I think it's gross. Mega gross. Whenever I sweat it usually indicates that I am doing something not fun or I'm uncomfortable (ie in our taurus with no air conditioning or on a miserable hike where I feel like licking a cactus to get it over with and end my misery)  I also think I don't like to mentally or emotionally sweat, meaning I don't like things that require exertion or make me uncomfortable.  I like things to be fun...all the time. G sometimes has to remind me that this is not possible. I think it should be possible.

 I would have been the worst pioneer alive. I would have stuck my neck under the first wagon wheel at Rocky Ridge.  Let me remind you that I got an epidural before I was even in labor because the thought of even one contraction is one contraction too many, why? Because labor didn't sound fun.  See my problem?  I wouldn't have cut off my own arm like that guy trapped by a rock in Southern Utah, I probably would have just bashed my head purposefully on the rock to put myself out of my misery.  I always pay extra for laughing gas at the dentist, I wait way too long to rip off my bandaids and thought pulling out a loose tooth as a child was a death sentence. I like bum warmers and air conditioning in cars, a down comforter on my bed, and the Glide brand of floss because it leaves a good minty flavor instead of the cheaper western family waxed floss because that has the potential to get stuck between my teeth and could possibly be uncomfortable.
It's embarrassing but true.  I would have lasted about .00004 seconds in a concentration camp or any other survival situation.   Liv and I babysat on Wednesday for a family that has 3 severely autistic children and when I came home I felt that there is honestly no way I could live with that challenge.  So often I look at people with soul stretching trials and think, "Yea right, I could never, would never be able to handle that for even a minute." I feel like people have massive Appalachian sized mountains of opposition in their lives and I start complaining the instant there is a golf ball sized opposition pile in my sandbox.  Yesterday during scripture study I read Elder Eyring's conference talk and it blew my mind when I read this quote:

"There are great challenges ahead of us, giant opportunities to be met.  I welcome that exciting prospect and feel to say to the Lord, humbly, 'Give me this mountain, give me these challenges." -Spencer W. Kimball

I don't know why but the thought of not whining and and fighting against anything that could possible make me sweat or be hard was mind boggling. I realized as my West Virginia bondage is coming to an end, that I had the complete wrong perspective.  Instead of seeing something hard as an opportunity to grow and become a little more refined, I just became very sarcastic and complained about living in the middle of nowhere, hush puppies and accents I can't understand. I wrote the quote on a index card and taped it by the sink because it is an attitude that I I want to have.  Most likely I will not feel that way until I'm around 87 but it's a good thought. 


  1. this just reminded me of when you called me sweaty Jones all the time in Ecuador! Ha. :) I miss you!

  2. AMEN to sweating. AMEN to trying to wake up in the morning from the last post (an unfortunate trait I've passed on to Isaac). AMEN to avoiding pain at all costs. And I had the same reaction to Pres. Eyring's talk. Might be a while before I get to the point of asking for challenges. I love you. :)