As I sit at my laptop with one hand in a nail polish remover to take off my Katy Perry OPI shatter polish, (which I totally adore) and the other on my mouse fishing on the internet for blank tee samples, I let my head drop on the keys. I’m literally up to my neck in receipts for 2010 (taxes-the last of three businesses to do, and on extension, but I’m getting them done by the 15th anyway) and way over my head in decisions to be made. What tee-shirt design should I use? What Jessica Simpson pumps do I want to order for immediates for my boutique? Did I order the right stainless steel refrigerator twenty minutes ago? Why the hell did my brother give me a bucket stuffed with sixteen months of smoke-smelling receipts? Why is my almost-nine-year-old riding around the kitchen table on his little sister’s pink indoor tricycle (is there such a thing as an indoor bike–that wasn’t my idea.) and eating his tenth tangelo for the day—leaving a trail of pulp behind him on my newly mopped floors. (Yes, the cleaning fairies were here.)
OMG! I definitely need some me time, and about ten hot yoga classes, a massage, an hour walk in the park, and my mom. Mommmmmm???!!!
I can’t help but just sit here and shake my head as I write this. The writing part brings me peace and lets me clear my head, but I know I should really be focused on paperwork. There are definitely ups and downs to owning your own businesses, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ve never worked for anyone but myself since I was eleven except for my very short stint at the DQ in high school, where I thoroughly enjoy inventing new flavors of Blizzards, and when I was supervisor at the Mountainlair Catering feeding the football team. I was on a mission then to get the chef to cook healthier food for our team, at the time they all seemed really over weight to me–the chef didn’t cut back on her butter or oil, which forced me into vegetarianism, then eventually forced me to just quit.
Yes, working for yourself is quite challenging to say the least. There’s no one there to yell at you if you are late, no one there to pay your bills if you don’t, and no one there to make sure you’re marketing, advertising, and treating your customers with the utmost respect. That is unless you get lucky enough to find an incredible manager (like I have, love you Brittany) to care as much as you do. And those types of people are one-in-a-million.
But on a positive note, I do make my own hours, I do get to go on fun shopping trips, I do get to design, reinvent, entertain, and clothe my friends. Soon I’ll have a gathering place for my peeps to watch their favorite sports events at and to come by and have a burger or smoked salmon wrap after their softball game. But the next three weeks I’ve gotta put my head to the grindstone, it’s all mind games from here on out. How many cooks do I hire? How do I know if I’m wasting too much food? How many hours will I work myself? Once again, Mommmmmm??!! (She helped me launch my boutique six years ago and she was quite great at it.)
I realized earlier this evening (and any of you Martha Stewart moms should just stop reading this now) that my multi-tasking had taken a turn for the worst. My daughter was in the bubble bath and it was eight and she was hungry, so I took her chicken nuggets and edamame (at least they were organic) up so she could eat while she was in the tub. Yes, that was a holy shit moment, but I was in a time crunch, and it was all I could do. That’s just how some days go in my house, most days are a bit more calm. But at this moment I can look back on one very productive today, and tomorrow I can breathe…
And my mom gets here on Sunday to help my brother and I with the launch of our neighborhood grille, thank God.