Day 11,414 - It’s all about me.
ann@karmabox September 26th, 2007
I am 11,414 days old today! Happy Birthday to me! Cash gifts will be graciously appreciated. I originally started the title “Day 1″ because of my plan to exert some semblance of self discipline and write in my blog a little every day. Then I realized it read like a “Journey into Self-Discovery” blog or “My Hike through the Hamptons” blog.
Nah, this blog is merely my attempt at communicating my thoughts, opinions, memories, and feelings to an invisible public. And yes, I fully acknowledge that I will be pumping the already congested internet with this dribble on a daily basis, quite possibly resulting in some poor server somewhere commit silicide.
Okay, if you have already read my previous post - you may know a little bit about me already. ^_~ I’m hoping to now focus on the unique trials and joys faced by a single parent/artist/WAHM/woman - or something like that. I can’t promise that I won’t rant like a loon over world affairs again.
My life is as anyone’s, a work in progress. My lifestyle stems from two of my dearest dreams - to create works of art and to run my own business. I work on my own terms doing what I love to do and I get to spend loads of quality time with my two kids. If only the pay was better. It takes a lead-lined stomach to endure the financial roller-coaster ride that comes with being self employed. Mine needs another coating (I’ll just go lick some more toys… gosh, that joke does get old). I miss the regular paychecks, health benefits, and free coffee (that I didn’t have to make myself) I used to get at my old corporate jobs. But the thing I miss the most is adult interaction - actual conversations with grown ups that doesn’t involve, “Because I said so!” or “Please go change your underwear.” I miss talking about current affairs, the weather, the hot new guy on the 7th floor… Now, I usually go 7 hours at a time without uttering a sound while I work away in my studio or on the computer (when my monkeys are at school, of course). Sure, you do that every night in your sleep - ha, ha, friggin’ ha. I also typically go days at a time without speaking to a single adult human being. Hence, my developing social ineptitude. I often wonder, what do grownups talk about nowadays? What new fun things am I missing out on?
Don’t get me wrong, I do have friends. We chat on the phone occasionally but we also all have families and work obligations to drag us quickly back to our own private little worlds. Typically, communication is carried out through emails and IMs. Alas, it’s a cold, detached world I live in.
So let’s see - I’m a Work-Aholic Hermit Mommy… WAHM. Oh, I crack myself up! For those who don’t know, WAHM is an acronym for Work At Home Mom. As opposed to SAHM, which is Stay At Home Mom. Each group has a different lifestyle but both share a common trait in addition to the love of kids and their home - loneliness. We get pretty cut off from the rest of the world. Seriously though, when would we have the time to socialize? Our jobs don’t end at 5 o’clock. Thank God for the internet! 
In other news… The downhill race to Christmas has already begun! Once again I find myself helplessly trying to keep up. Why oh why didn’t I build up enough inventory this summer? I’ve had months to prepare. Don’t fret - I do know and hold dear the true meaning of Christmas. You should keep in mind that like most other businesses, this time of year also marks my Golden Quarter and helps my family survive the rest of the calendar year.
It seems like only yesterday it was January 1, 2007…
Picture a worn out, frazzled shell of a woman curled up in a fetal position on a sea of shipping receipts, invoices, packing peanuts, and shredded Priority Mail boxes. With tears streaming down her ink stamped face, she proclaims, “As God is my witness, I will never procrastinate about my work again!” Picture her paper cut fingers clenching tightly into tiny fists of determination while her children casually step over her slumped figure on their way to the kitchen. I vowed to spend the next 8 months building up my inventory, finalizing new designs, and to finish a whole slew of other things I had been putting off. Fast forward eight long months and you now see my puny stock shelves. Granted, I did move this year, that wasn’t fun - another day, another story. Sure I have a few Felt Fuzzies built up, even a few Christmas stockings and hand bags. Nothing close to the inventory I need to survive this season unscathed though.
Orders are snowballing in and damn it - I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I’ve learned and burned from last year’s sales inferno, even developing a nice crispy shell. Twelve hour sewing sessions! As my boys say, “Bring it on, buster!” Ah, my precious kiddos - they are truly a crafter’s offspring. They can smell the impending chaos and have their bike helmets, cardboard shields, and Light Sabers at the ready. They have been limbering up to fend off the flying shipping boxes, sewing pin land mines, shards (yes, shards) of fabric, and the dreaded creeping stranglers made of crumpled paperwork and paperclips. Manuevers and drills are being developed for when my work eventually spills out of my studio and into every available nook and cranny of our home. And most of all, they are ready for their beloved mother to transform into… The Fuzzi Banshee!
The Fuzzi Banshee screams incomprehensible gibberish at octaves only dogs can hear. She vascilates between various levels of insanity and happiness. She is constantly digging for missing items. She grounds little boys for the slightest offense or misunderstanding. She develops static cling and uncontrollably frizzy hair. Wait, that last one is just a winter thing.
How could any child possibly prepare for the horror that is, The Fuzzi Banshee? Here’s their little secret: They stockpile a year’s worth of “crazy” chocolates to sedate their mother with on those many occasions when an adoring, toothy smile and hug just isn’t enough. My guys have such finely honed survival instincts - I’m so proud of them, I could cry!
So fire up the coffee maker - I won’t be sleeping again until New Year’s Eve.
God Bless!
+ann
P.S. I demand to know who changed the rule stating that there be TWO spaces between the end punctuation of a sentence and the beginning of the next sentence to ONE space. This blog editor keeps taking out all my double spaces!
P.P.S. I am not responsible for the content of the Google Ads that may pop up. Please let me know if anything offensive comes up and I’ll try to block it if I can. Thanks! - This disclaimer will pop up a lot.
Your blog is very open. One of the inspiring undertones that seem less obvious are your abilities to keep going and fighting for that last scrap of hope. Your not just sitting there blogging about it, your actually the heart and soul of a beatiful business. More importantly, your the center of the universe for two young boys who adore you and have very little knowledge of how much help you could use from their own father. You don’t just struggle with the average challenges of life, your attacking life and surviving the blows of unfortunate alliances. Anyone who knows or cares about you, admires you and carries some pride in being associated with you. If there is a hero out there who can save your sanity, I hope he arrives soon.