Sometimes I wonder if I am being a responsible parent by trying to run my own business. I mean, let's get serious here, despite my feelings for the current president, I am desperately waiting for my kicker check to be deposited into my bank account this Friday. Business has slowed WAY down this week after Etsy overhauled their search function (I am hoping that is just due to a learning curve, and it will pick right back up again). Then there are the comments my daughter makes sometimes, "You are always working!!" It's true, I have several ventures going on right now, and I have a difficult time focusing on any of them--my brain is often scattered, and as a result I am always busy. Even when I'm sleeping.Indigo is eight years old, beginning to show her independence (no grownups allowed!), but still at such a sweet and darling age. She wants me all of the time, despite the sign posted on her door, and sometimes I feel overwhelmed by her demands for attention. At the same time, I am acutely aware that someday in the next several years she is going to want me much less. I do not want her memories of growing up to be "my mom was always on the computer" or "my mom is always saying 'just a second' before she can get to me." On the other hand, if I had an office job she would be in daycare all of the time, and what time would we have together then?
So I have to ask myself, what are my primary goals and responsibilities as a parent? The most obvious, of course, is putting food on the table. I also consider it my responsibilit
y to foster her self-confidence. I want her to know that she is loved and supported no matter what choices she makes in her life. That she is allowed to make any choices she wants, that she can follow her dreams. I can only hope to convey, somewhere amidst my busy (sometimes frantic) schedule, that I am working this hard not to ignore her, but to finally realize my own dreams.I guess in writing this, I am also trying to convey that notion to myself. To remind myself what I am doing, and why I am here.
