Starting a business takes work, hard work. The constant planning and scheming, worrying and dreaming, fighting to give yourself a chance, a step up in life and to create something that is truly a reflection of you. Your passions and desires given centre stage in the hopes of creating a moment, a legacy, something that gives people joy.
This takes dedication and desire, add a young family into it and it becomes a balancing act. Add a fiancée starting a business at the same time and it’s a juggling act, Add a young family to educate and the fianceé’s start up into it during lockdown and this little bald asshole doesn’t know what the fuck is going on.
This maybe the case for lots of parents working from home at the minute, but I am not use to working from home, my office for the last 18 years has been working in kitchens. This takes an adjustment of a major proportion for me mentally, and I am trying. I try to plan the week, keep to my own rough schedule and have even looked to make free time available this week.
The biggest variable into how productive my work is now is dependant on my two boys 4 and 7 (that’s their ages not Elon Musk style names). Now these boys are my everything, they are my pride, my joy, my reason for being and work wise my nemesis. Obviously priority numero Uno is making sure the boys are happy and maybe there are parents out there who work wonderfully efficiently while their angelic children write sonnets or thesis but I can tell you now I AM WINGING IT.
The morning will start with positivity and fun, the boys will eat breakfast and I spy a little opportunity to get a little work done. Whether cooking, planning, checking orders or promoting the business via social media. This is what seems to be my plan of attack, become the opportune hunter. “Are they quiet? Go Go Go. After 5 minutes I normally get orders for breakfast number 2, demands for searching something on TV or called for me to hand the youngest his drink. ( It will be 1 foot away from him). Back to whatever I was doing before the inevitable call for breakfast number 3. My eldest this week has started saying “thank you waiter!”
Early part of the week the Mrs has had cake orders on so I have tried to take more of a lead with the boys to give her some time to concentrate with the intricacies of cake detailing. This means trying to get the boys dressed, after ten minutes of asking at a crescendo of bluntness, the eldest is dressed as the youngest runs round naked shouting ” willy willy willy”, ten minutes later he is dressed. My eldest is a wonderful lad, I am phenomenally proud of him for who he has become, he loved school and had developed his own identity, as with all kids, that’s been taken from him. As the weeks go on the motivation to get started on school work takes more and more. After the usual back and forth he smashes out his work and shows how clever he is.
As the week develops I become more consumed by the business and by Thursday it is the business end of the week. The next few days are long days but the hours are for what WE are building. The BBQ,burrito and pizza kits are dispersed through the week and the little compliments give a nice hit of dopamine to say what we do is good and building forward. As the week goes on, this is when I get grumpier, it’s harder to settle my brain, that’s nothing to do with the boys or the Mrs it’s me. For as long as I have been cheffing it’s been the case. Game mode, increased focused, becoming blinkered to what’s around me. People have always mistaken my concentration face for anger, once described as resting cunt face. As I got through the jobs/customers the feeling eases to a relaxed but productive state sometimes described as “flow”. The last couple of weeks there hasn’t been flow, just mental unrest. Again it’s my brain, no one’s fault. The house seems messier as toys permeate every room, extra cups, glasses and plates appear. School work covers the table I normally work from and boxes for the businesses are everywhere. The brain gets foggier and I get fidgetty and unsettled. Each morning I read a lesson from Ryan Holidays “the daily stoic” in hopes to better myself. Most days I’ve forgotten this lesson of positivity by lunch
During the business end of the week, I will try my hardest to get little bits of time with the boys. I once worked with a guy who split up with his girlfriend and moved out leaving his son with the mum. When he was telling me how he was doing he said something I always found poignant and has given me so much appreciation and gratitude for the little moments. “It’s not the days out you miss (with child), it’s the little bits of time, the 10 minutes chilling in the morning, the hugs after bathtime and the playing a silly made up game” . If I know something is cooking for 30 minutes for example, then I go do something with the boys. This week with the youngest I’ve been a shop customer, T-rex, wonder woman and a Disney Princess. With the eldest we have been bonding playing Fortnite on the Nintendo. I find attempting to compete on Fortnite a lot like my teenage years having sex, I don’t have a clue what’s going on, someone is constantly telling me in doing it wrong and my go is over far too early!.
Don’t get me wrong, there are moments that are hard, although the bond that has been developed between the boys during this shit show has been a massive positive, in the end they are brothers and can wind each other the fuck up. As you start to get the rhythm of a task you can be interrupted by whinning, telling or bitching. As they become bored the dad dad dad dad dad dad daddy daddy dad dad dad daddy starts. Sometimes I need to get jobs done and feel awful palming them off, of course I would love to not do the prep and play but play won’t pay the bills. Some days the intensity of being called for play, food, drink, daddy watch this, dad he did this, dad can I , dad dad dad dad gets really grinding. If this was someone in my last job asking me something at this degree of intensity I would have told them early doors to “SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME THINK!”. But to my heroes I could never, some days I can’t think straight due to the constant dad dadding, I have forgot what I was doing on countless occasions as they interrupt with something trivial, most of my social media posts take immense concentration to be opportunistic as the boys are momentarily distracted. Non of this is their fault though, and why I can’t shout. They didn’t ask to be stuck at home, to have us educate them or not be allowed to go to some of their favourite places. I couldn’t even get angry this weekend when I was sprayed with a water gun whilst prepping and I didn’t even lose my shit when I had to re make Yorkshire pudding mix after my youngest flicked his croc off his foot from the doorway into a pan of Yorkshire pudding batter on the worktop.
For all the stresses, usually my own doing, the amazing thing is being in the house with them. Yes, I want them to go back to school to entertain,socialise and educate them but this time is awesome. Those little moments of goofing, laughing or just being would never happen if I was working for someone in a kitchen. It’s those moments that mean the world and I am fortunate enough to get them. I was reading the “Twits” by Roahl Dahl to the boys for bedtime and there is a beautiful lesson contained in it. In it Mrs Twit has grown from beautiful to hideously ugly because she had ugly thoughts and views. It seems very true and we should all look for the beauty in all situations.
For all the stresses,whining and dad dadding it’s been wonderful. Sometimes it just takes a moment to stop, think and change the outlook. It’s just getting those two minutes.
Happy eating, stay safe
FOOD ANARCHY 