Running your own business can be a stress-inducing, sleep-depriving, death-defying game. Don’t get me wrong, Little Lucy Willow is my pride and joy and I wouldn’t want to do anything else. I mean, what could be nicer than designing and sourcing beautiful children’s beds and furniture? Not to mention all the gorgeous children’s accessories we sell. I’m like kid in a sweet shop most days. But there can be as many not-so-nice parts to my job too. Parts that bring me out in a cold sweat, make my knees wobble and my hair go limp. However, none of this even comes close to that other thing in life I find myself dreading, week in week out.
No, it’s not having my house repossessed, or the death of my dog (if I had one) – it’s homework.
Beneath the rafts of letters and reading books in those pesky schoolbags, the homework book lurks. I gingerly open it trying to ignore the notable rise in blood pressure. Each week I pray to myself, please, please, please, not maths, not maths, anything but maths – but then, just when I don’t need it, it’s….MATHS!
I immediately put it away and begin the steady build up to what will no doubt be the most stressful part of my week. Ok, I can do this, I can. When we finally sit down to start, I remind myself that my children are not geniuses and are still in fact, children.
The first few questions go well and I kid myself we’ll be done in a jiffy. Then the bombshell comes, the part where numbers are plucked out of thin air in a vain attempt at chancing upon the answer. “No”, I start off calmly and quietly. “Let’s think about how you worked out the other sums.” I get a blank look as if this is the very first time she has even clapped eyes on a NUMBER let alone a sum.
When the quiet approach gets no results I start to pace, peppering my speech with notes of disappointment and shock that this sum is suddenly so unfathomable. My eyes get wider and my arms start flailing a bit. I go dizzy with disbelief that something I actually used to long for before I had a family could turn out to be so bloomin unpleasant.
I am suddenly in awe of teachers. In the nick of time my husband walks in and guides me to a chair telling me to calm down in a slightly patronising manner. However, in less than two minutes he’s up, pacing, arms going, eyes rolling and voice creeping up the register. When we finally get the right answers, we both shout “thank you” and glance at the heavens.
Give me a ball-busting business conundrum any day of the week!