August 17, 2009 by skwishface
I don’t like change. Really, really don’t like it. Specifically, I don’t like it when outside forces try to change me or my reality. I establish a routine, and nothing short of impending global apocalypse can convince me to take a step outside it.
That being said, once I decide to make a change, it happens. Stat. Like ripping of a band-aid. One moment things are the old way, the next moment things are the new way. This often seems really abrupt to outside observers who haven’t been living in my skull, privy to the slow tectonic-drift-like ponderings regarding said change. I will contemplate big decisions for weeks, months, sometimes years, before suddenly acting upon them.
To outsiders, it appeared that one day I decided to buy a new (to me) car, and then a week later I’d traded in my beat-up pickup truck for a little hatchback that had actually been constructed in this century. The reality was, I had been contemplating and evaluating finances and shopping online and comparing gas mileage and blue book values and blah blah blah for almost a year ahead of time. To observers, The Husband and I decided to buy a house, and then a month later were closing and moving in. Truth be told, we had each been pondering and saving money and shopping around and comparing market values and blah blah blah for about two years beforehand. Ditto with having kids, getting a dog, getting the damn cat, etc. Every big decision appears sudden, but is actually happening after long exhaustive research and contemplation.
Except this one.
For a while now, I’ve been casually turning my hobby into occasional money through my Etsy shop: Angry Baby. It was nothing major, just selling the results of the crocheting I did in my rather limited spare time. Then sales started picking up. Then a local consignment sale saw my shop and invited me to be a sponsor of their sale in exchange for way more advertising than I’d ever contemplated before. And all of a sudden, quite without my permission, my little hobby turned itself into a small business.
And I just don’t have time. I work 40 hours a week, 5 days a week. I have a husband and two young kids I like quite a bit and enjoy spending time with. I have friends and a social life. I have all these things going on and I haven’t planned! I haven’t researched! There’s been no long period of contemplation! How can I be expected to shift the gears of my life to accomodate being a small business owner when I haven’t THOUGHT IT OUT in EXTREME MINUTE DETAIL for MONTHS AND MONTHS?!
But life has deadlines. The decision is being made for me, and I can either go with it or dig in my heels and refuse to change, thus burning bridges and possibly setting back any business growth potential. So I’m going with it.
Angry Baby is officially my part-time job now. I’ve worked with my bosses and changed my schedule to accomodate it. I’ve consulted with The Husband and every babysitter we’ve got. I’ve notified The Boy’s preschool. Plans are in motion, actions are being taken, and minor heart attacks are being had daily.
The anxiety is making me a little crazy. I need to start up a filthy habit to help deal with it. I can’t take up smoking, because my lungs have this thing about wanting to function. Dipping is gross, and drinking is expensive. Sex is helping, but it’s hard to blog about when I know my mom reads this. So I’ve taken up baking.
Because easy access to a steady supply of homemade breads, cakes, muffins, sugar, butter, and carbs carbs carbs? Way better for me than smoking. But only if you ask my lungs. If you ask my love-handles, they can’t answer you. Too busy stuffing themselves full of baked goods.