Well after some stern talkings to from some friends who have heard my creative side screaming to be let out of late and a bit of internal monologuing from my own good self I have set the ball rolling on something new and, for me, pretty ambitious. The dreaded troll of work loomed dark and ominous on the horizon and it seemed that with it came the sudden and very new urge to work for myself. Self-employment is not something which has ever appealed to me in the past, being a creature who craves the security of a set paycheque each month, but here I am seeking a way to get the best of both worlds by working part time in the office and also setting up a little sideline for myself.
So here goes, the first ever public statement regarding my new endeavour…
I have just registered with my local authority to sell homebaked and decorated celebration cakes and fondant characters! I have begun work on the Facebook page “Cakes at The Sugar Pavilion” and hope to launch it properly once my registration is complete (in about a month). Eeek!
Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t expect it to be a money spinner, nor do I expect to be inundated with orders… I am very aware of the hoards of other cake decorators out there doing the same thing… but if I can just get the occasional request it will boost my self-esteem no end and pride in my heart is worth hundreds of pounds in my pocket any day of the week :).
Wish me luck!
I HATE this so MUCH! Broke down in tears as signed the childminders forms today (I mean yesterday but since I haven’t been able to sleep it feels like this morning!) and am bitterly contemplating life as an absentee mummy! I wouldn’t sign my wedding rings over to a stranger and now I have had to sign my children over to one! Don’t get me wrong she is fab and she was so comforting when I had my blub but I don’t want to do this and I honestly don’t know that I can! This feels so far beyond simply not wanting to or disliking the idea… I feel like my heart is being ripped apart and my lungs are being squeezed empty of air – my head is back to spinning at the first sign of anxiety and I am laying in bed, tears literally running down my face as if someone’s squeezing a warm wet flannel over it and trying to keep the shuddering sobs to a minimum so as not to wake Poppy as she sleeps beside me, totally and blissfully unaware of my despair. How can I leave my babies at the door and wave goodbye and smile knowing that the next few hours are going to be filled with outpourings of grief from me and fearful non-understanding wails from Poppy even IF Izzy is totally fine with it. It was different when I went back to work after Izzy coz at least she was with family but this time it hurts even more :(. And for what? My first week I will earn about £50 after childcare! But it is money we will sorely need. I hate money – I am not even a materialistic person – I couldn’t give a toss about shoes and while I would like nice clothes I usually look at the price tag and walk away. I live in my mummy uniform of jeans and whatever top falls out of the wardrobe first and that is me, I am fine with that!
But I’m not fine with it for my girls. They deserve nice things, beautiful clothes. They deserve books to help them learn and food that broadens their senses (as opposed to chips and various chicken products). They deserve everything the world has to offer.
They deserve a mummy who is happy but in order to be happy I would have to give up the ability to give them all the things I want to give them. I can’t pretend to give them things they don’t have, but I can pretend to be happy when I’m not. So that is what I will do. Three days a week I will smile as I wave goodbye. I will work as hard as I can at remembering why and I will keep my head down and just make my way from one long weekend to the next knowing that I am not the only one who has to live that way.
And now, nearly 24hrs since I last slept and with probably only an hour or two before I will be woken up by those two boisterous but flipping gorgeous girls of mine, my brain feels like a full sponge I finally wrung out… a damn sight lighter amd potentially in a much better state to fall asleep.
When you can’t scream… write. If you can’t write… prepare for many such sleepless nights. Wish I had written it all down sooner now! 😦