This may seem completely obvious to anyone who has ever started up a new business, but I’ve realised that in some ways, it’s a bit like having your first baby. You're very excited at the start, slightly nervous and full of uncertainty but yet happily anticipating the day you are up and running. Lots of people wish you well and say they will be supportive. You work yourself half to death labouring to get ready. Then as soon as you begin, you realise you have absolutely no effing idea how to do this, you are totally overwhelmed by the enormity of what you have taken on, you stay up all night working/worrying, and you realise the life you had before seems like its completely over. On the third day you come home and cry a lot while contemplating having a complete nervous breakdown. There are small arguments over relative trivialities and huge rows about the big picture.
And then you get up the next day, and the next and the next and get on with it as best you can, in between mini panic attacks, lack of sleep and a general sense of anxiety and doom. In this case, I may not be so worried about dropping the baby on her head (or suddenly out of a window, which was a horrendous recurring mental image of mine when Botany was a newborn)- but I am worried that we’re going to fail, and all that we worked for will be lost with nothing to show for it.
People keep saying it will get better and it might but right now it does feel like something of a long dark tunnel for both me and Knox. What surprised me somewhat is how quickly it morphed from being his business to really being our business. In hindsight, given what he was taking on, that was always going to be the reality but I was in some form of denial as to how much input might be needed from me. I suppose on the upside I am already used to working 16 hour days (what with already having a day job and a parenting job) so in many ways it’s not all that different to my current pace of life. But it feels like some things I love and enjoy are falling by the wayside somewhat. Reading for fun? No time. Cooking proper meals? Not so much. Writing carefully crafted blog posts and starting my novel? Oh, how I wish.
I suppose it’s also probably just as well that, given the current levels of stress in the house, there isn’t another new baby on the way. I’ve been so busy that the complete lack of success in that department has barely even registered on the radar of problems. My real worry is that in six months' time, I will look up from working like a crazed weasel and discover that oops! I’m over forty! And I’m truly past it!
Meanwhile, I’ve been feeling quite wistful in that I don’t get as nearly much time with Botany as I used to. She’s been completely sweet about a relative lack of attention from me up and indeed, been behaving like a angel- until this past weekend when I finally had a chance to spend a couple of days with her in a row. I eagerly looked forward to it all week and when it finally arrived, she immediately morphed back into a nightmarish little beast. Whining endlessly, throwing the toy I bought her for Easter at me, kicking me during nappy changes, impudently running away in the store car park and generally being something of a contrary pain in the ass. I confess that her crying “I want my Daddy” repeatedly during one particular tantrum was especially irritating. Botany, my delicious darling, your Daddy is on yet another extended business trip out of the country for another two weeks, leaving me once again to carry the load on mostly on my own, so please don’t go there.