Tag Archives: busy

Where In The World?

I know I’ve been MIA. Radio Silent. Covert Ops. On the DL.

Busy.

And I’m still busy. So this will be brief.

I’m opening a business. A massage clinic to be exact. I’ve never been prouder of any professional accomplishment in my life, and it isn’t even open yet. I eat almost every daytime meal while driving, and am so busy that I have to put things in my calendar like, “pick up the children”, but I’m close to reaching this pretty exciting goal. And like most achievements, I’ve been helped along the way. So this is my Oscar speech.

Thanks to Laura Danker for meeting with me early on, and guiding me towards the right business structure. Thanks to Adam Schwartz for urging me to Keep. It. Simple. To Rob Ferrier for referring me to a lawyer, and to Chrissy for referring me to another lawyer. To the guy from Century Link for waiving all those charges, and to Ann at the City for pushing my paperwork through. Thanks to the guy at the bank that told me I needed an EIN. Thanks to Becca for being a wonderful sounding board during a confusing time in my life. Thanks to Dennis Pepe, Sandy Anderson, and Christopher Yellen for sharing a bit of their own business experience with me. Thanks to Greg B. for the heads up regarding what to expect from the inspection (and for being surprisingly accessible), and to my personal “investigator” with the city, who is going to also become a client. Thanks to the 27 people that I spoke to at the Arizona Corporations Commission, all who helped me with my LLC drama. To my landlords for being so freaking cool and easy going, and for not making fun of my measuring tape. Thanks to my close friends for checking in with me on a regular basis and letting me blab. Thanks to my husband for agonizing over the lease, day after day, night after night, and for attempting to obtain his law degree in like, one week and on top of it all making everything pretty and for dealing with all my freak outs and emotions. Thanks to Lynda Skinner for, well, for being Lynda Skinner and asking me, “what can I do to help you, what do you need?” and to Joseph Lauricella, who always and forever has by back and calls me on my crap, just a like a brother should. Thank you to the girl at TJ Max that saved me $30. Seriously. That was cool. Thanks a million trillion to Jody, Marji and Joseph for writing me the most beautiful letters of recommendation that I’ve ever read, even though they are the busiest people that I know, and for doing it TWICE in a very short time frame. Thanks to Edie for making my props and BEING my prop, and to Deb Kortyna for hooking me up with her Insurance guy/husband. Thanks to my leasing agent for teaching me….well…a lot of things that I will tuck away for another day. Thanks for Beverly Giroud for telling me years ago that I have the ability to succeed on my own and for letting me use her space when I desperately needed too, and to Jennifer Moulton for the microwave and friendship. Thanks to Dave G. for the most beautiful and meaningful piece of furniture for the clinic, and to his beautiful wife for the Obi’s. Thanks to Cori for offering us her support and expertise, and for being understanding when we chose a different path. Thanks to Allissa Haines for sharing her easy going business model with me, and for unknowingly giving me some advice that made me go it solo. Thanks to all of my clients that have been bounced around between treatment spaces this past year, and for tolerating it all with patience and genuine well wishes. Thanks to Jill Dolan for ALLLLLL the advice that John and I so desperately needed, both legal and personal. Thank you to John W. for telling me I could and should do this when a lot of people were telling me I shouldn’t. Thanks to Clau for the filing cabinets. Thanks to all the people that are coming to my put it together party, and to the three therapists that are taking this leap with me right out of the gate. And thanks to my Mom and Step Dad for believing in me so much that they have helped me get this off the ground with a loan that I can’t wait to pay back.

And that’s all before the doors even open.

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Workin’ 9 to 9.

So, I’m up at the butt crack of dawn. The fact that I—a girl who usually requires a solid 9 hours of sleep and hates to do anything before mainlining her coffee—am up before the sun is is just, well, weird. The sun, apparently knows better than me. Weirder still that I wake up at 5am and think “I should probably get up and get some work done.” Not only do I think it, I do it.

Good god. I have gone mainstream.

I just have so much to do! All the time! It never stops! And the things that I get paid to do? Well, they’re fun! And I get paid! But, dudes. It’s really hard. In fact, life is hard. I’m talking, super hard. Although, to steal a quote from my good friend, Erica, it’s totally first world hard, which means basically that I can’t find a sitter for the boys. God, I am such a jerk.

Really, though. Being a working mother is really freaking hard. It’s hard to know where to begin, really. First though, I want to know why none of you told me! How come women have gone through life never being like “WHATEVER YOU DO! DON”T PROCREATE! IT’S REALLY FUCKING HARD!” Or, in this case, “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! WORKING AND BEING A MOM AT THE SAME TIME IS HARDER THAN PUTTING YOUR FIRST TAMPON IN!” I’ve been working since the boys were little, but as a massage therapist, which means that I worked 8 hours a week when it was convenient to me. I took most of the first couple of years off with the kids, and got hella lazy professionally. I see now though, that like a squirrel hoarding the nuts, I was subconsciously storing my drive to work and earn. And now, the floodgates have opened.

I mean, good god! I’m up and blogging at 6am! What is wrong with me? I’ve been so busy lately that I actually had to schedule time to write a post, for I fear that if I don’t, I will just stop writing, which would make the sunshine disappear, and a single tear drip down the faces of people everywhere. So, basically, this is a forced post, so as to avoid the entire world becoming depressed. Sort of like verbal constipation. Mostly I just wanted to use the word constipation.

Poop.

I don’t have time to go to the grocery store! Or clean my house! I used to say that my house was “hippie clean,” but now it’s more lik “homeless clean.” So, don’t like my floor, K? Actually, I would rather you lick my floor than my shower. Definitely don’t lick that. Sheesh. It’s so bizarre to be so busy and happy at the same time. Then there is the added oddness (those two words together make my eyes cross) of being in a position where people believe that you can do things that you don’t even believe you can do. That’s something I am trying to get used to.

Yet, what’s hardest for me is the great imbalance between the genders. When my husband has to go to work, he gets up, proceeds to spend 27.6 minutes doing god knows what in the shower (not exaggerating) [totally exaggerating -ed.], gets ready, and walks out the door. Don’t get me wrong. He helps me out in the morning and everything, it isn’t that he is a dick. It’s about how simple it is for him to go to work. The things expected of him are, really, quite minimal. He is the known breadwinner, therefore he goes forth to make the . . . er . . . bread. The process for me is a little different, and involves the hiring of many, many babysitters. And if I thought I was spinning plates before? Well, holy Moses. Now I’m spinning plates with my hands and feet, while also cooking dinner.

When I jump in the shower, I usually do it so fast that I bang into something and get a bruise. And then the children sense that I am in the shower and come forth to ask me to do things for them that are completely unreasonable, considering I am both naked and wet. (You want a picture of that, don’t you?) My showers last approximately 2.6 minutes, and in that time I not only manage to shower, but I also decide what I am going to wear, remember what things I need to do that day, and make a mental note of all the people that I need to call. The things I do while at home are never just those things. They are done while also doing 3 things at the exact same time. And again, I do them so fast, they usually end in an injury.

So, I don’t know. It’s funny. This new job sort of crept up on me, and has been sort of miraculous. It isn’t single-handedly responsibly for the busy, either. It’s life, it’s how it is. And then you have me, and the nature of . . . well . . . me. Two jobs, two kids, mandatory volunteering at their school, a house, a refrigerator that occasionally needs food in it, and you know what? I still decide to run for President of the Board at my kids’ school. Why? Well, I’ll tell you the long why in a different post, but I can assure you that it has something to do with the fact that I am insane.

But too busy to care.

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