I’m not a mother but I have given birth. I didn’t have sex to conceive my child, so in many ways, I liken myself to the Virgin Mary. We differ, however, in the character and quality of our offspring. The lovely, and saintly mother of all Christians immaculately gave birth to a child that would become king and heavenly father to millions. I attempted to single-handedly give birth to a child who I prayed would make me queen, and millions. What I conceived was a sweet idiot that made me a slave and a pauper: my bakery and cafe.
Businesses are like babies. They are toughest to manage in their infancy stage, but they’re running pretty much on their own by the age of three. If you’ve made it to that milestone, you’re almost there. This Mary’s child became a toddler but still couldn’t walk or feed itself — it needed mommy’s attention 24/7.
I had no time to socialize or nurture relationships — my good friends became acquaintances and romantic dates became but a distant memory. What little time I had off was as precious as the ill-afforded, rare manicure, or hair color that didn’t come from a box.
I warned the staff not to call me when I took a break unless the store was on fire. But more often than not, I’d get urgent calls.
“Mary, how do I turn the lights off?”
