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The ups and downs of our planned new life to NZ, warts and all!

The SPLAT entrySun 19 April 2009
I'd really hoped this blog entry would be an awe-inspiring, dazzly, sparkly one filled with the joys of the business and life in general.  But, this is the blog of Littletoe, so lets not be silly.  Its a snot filled, eye baggingly tired, splat of an entry.  I've worked my booty off, and what a booty it is trying to source new nannies, meeting new families, etc.  One meeting was at 7.30pm, then there's the paperwork afterwards.  Sweat, blood, tears.  That particular family emailed me this morning to cancel their Nanny order.  Great.  Cheers.  Feeling that I was barely bobbing in the murky waters, I had a meeting with a business coach.  Enter Anton.  A 39 year old, retired at 35.  Owns 17 houses and is a self made millionare.  Its hard to find something to dislike about Anton.  He drives a mediorce station wagon, wears a Hallenstein suit, and looks like any other 45 year old - hey, I guess its not been full of restful nights for him.  He's got the sort of humour when you find yourself throwing your head back and roaring like an animal in laughter.  Well, at least I did!  He told me in no uncertain terms what he thought of my business, where it should go and what I should do.  Basically, tailor it to an exclusive market, charge London rates and get rid of this need to take on every bit of business that calls me.  He couldn't believe it when he broke it down, how much time I invested, how much energy and myself goes into the business, and how much I get in return.  I was at a juncture, he identified.  Either change it, or leave it.  But don't carry on like this or else he predicted I'd have so little sense of self worth, I'd burn out anyway.  Hmmmm.  Anyway, feeling strangely like I could tell him my life story and how miserable I'd been when I was 10 and fell off my bike and broke my arm and my parents told me I was making a big fuss over nothing - it clearly wasn't broken - enter Dr who said that bone shouldn't be sticking out like that - I eluded to that fact that my personality was all wrong.  Kiwis don't like my assertive nature, they don't like my confident, bristling personality (says she blowing her own trumpet!).  He looked at me and told me never to change myself.  He said some people may not like it, but who cares.  I am who I am.  There was nothing wrong with me.  Don't get me wrong, it all sounds very cheesey, that he took this evanligical approach to mentoring and I stood there gripping my heart, tears in eyes, and all that.  It wasn't like that.  It was a good chat about the business, what I was doing wrong and what I should consider doing differently.  When he left I felt quite recharged, like I had some fodder to chew over.  Now, however, I'm so damn tired.  Before Easter, it was all go and then I had that dismal interview experience which shook the stuffing right out of me.  I hurridley faxed poor work through to the uni, unable to concentrate or put any real effort in.  We placed a lot of hope in the Easter holiday.  Hoping to come back recharged and refocused.  Didn't happen.  Pip's medication got delayed, so we went away knowing that she probably wouldn't sleep.  Pip takes melotonin before bed, it mimics the natural hormone produced by the brain in order to enable us to unwind and fall asleep at night.  Without that, she's a nutcase.  Cue a whole new ballgame for us...Night terrors.  If you're not a parent, don't even read about it, its one of those things that I must have missed in the good parenting guide, one of those things that as a young parent, makes me wish I'd had my uterus taken out when I started mensturating.  No sleep.  No sleep.  No sleep.  On the ferry back we got delayed, took us over four hours on a usual three hour trip.  It was midnight by the time we got back.  Moons projectile vomited in the cafe, Egg was psycho because she's a gremlin and got fed after midnight, she screamed and screamed.  Pip was just bouncing off the ship walls.  In the end, we found a dark spot on the deck and wrapped Moons in our coats, she drifted off.  The quiet and dark, enabled Egg to doze off.  So Steve and I froze our arses off in the darkness on the Cook Strait and that is my own real memory of that holiday!  Pip's nutball night terrors continued until we got her meds a couple of days ago and now peace has restored.  Only, I'm sick with a really bad cold now!  What now, what now?  Not sure where my focus is.  I feel I need some divine inspiration here.

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