So, as many of you know, I went to see an accountant Monday which comes with some very complicated emotions for me. Partially, or more truthfully, predominantly, because I make
everything
in my life more complicated because that’s the way my brain works. At the risk of oversharing, I once had a Professional Person ask, after I’d shared a thought process:
Do you think you might be overthinking this just a little?
in a way that clearly suggested they believed I’d overthought it ALOT.
So, back to the accountant, sort of. First, you have to know I’ve done our taxes for the last 12-15 years. Before that, Blair did it, but he always waited til April to do them and I found out you can do them the minute you get all your paperwork, which is way back in January, and that’s when I took it over. But, last year, with the daycare being our main income, I felt I might not be doing the best job. I knew I had missed deductions, and it did seem there were some tax situations unaddressed in my purchased tax software program.
A few weeks ago, I found I was right on all counts and was given the name of a reputable accountant who does a large amount of not only home business taxes, but in-home daycare taxes.
Which is great, except for it was nerve wracking for me. For one thing, this woman lives in a fabulous house which compared to my house, which I know I shouldn’t be doing but oh well, well, her house makes my house look like I may have chosen the wrong profession. Secondly, anyone who understands anything the federal government does is
very, very smart.
So I’m sitting in a very nice house, in her very nice home office which I was totally coveting all over the place, in the middle of the day, which is when she does this very smart stuff, and I’m feeling super guilty about having left 2 perfectly competent adults alone with 10 kids back at my sorry excuse for a house with NO HOME office in it and suddenly I really need
to pee.
But I’m thinking, I’m a grown woman, I can certainly wait five minutes to pee. Except I can’t wait. I’ve given birth 7 times and I’m not a teenager any more and genetically speaking I don’t exactly come from a long line of awesome bladder control and my bladder is not what it once was and I definitely cannot wait.
So now I’m a woman who is not smart enough to do her own taxes, living in a shack like the old woman in a shoe with no bladder control.
Super.
After an hour and a half of going through the daycare’s finances with the accountant in her stylish home office, two computer screens and the most amazing ceiling fan I’ve practically ever seen, we called it a day and she sent me home to email her the rest of what was needed.
You know I drove straight to a place what sells Pepsi and chocolate!
Except for now, I’m an idiot, living in a shack with kids and no bladder control who is FAT.
Sigh.
You think I might have overthought this just a tad? Hmmmm???
🙂
I love you! 🙂
I don’t care about all of that…you’re still the awesomest woman I know!
I think that you should do what makes you feel brilliant. Whatever that is.
But first of all, you need to realize that your knowledge of people shorter than your kneecap is more encompassing than hers. And the simple fact that when you tell those little people what to do, they listen. Most people cannot fathom someone who can do that. A child whisperer, that’s what you are.
Not only that, but in your great depths of understanding, you realize that if you had that amazing ceiling fan in your house, it would last 6.2 seconds until socks were flung into it and the children cheer while watching it. Then, they will climb up and unscrew the paddles, breaking them in the meantime, to where a hula hoop and vacuum hose has to be strategically placed by said little people so that the balance is equal and it turns properly… oh wait, I forgot that this was your problem, not mine, and I got carried away…. 😉
YOU ARE AMAZING! YOU ARE BRILLIANT! AND YOU *CHOOSE* TO BE A CHILD WHISPERER, WHICH IS AN AMAZING CALLING!!
But yes, you have an itty bitty insignificant bladder… No one is perfect. 😉
Melody, I agree with you. Anyone who can talk to those midgets who claim to be children and get them to do stuff is from another universe. I therefore declare Maren as “Queen Maren, the Child Whisperer” and we should officially lobby Congress to have a national holiday to honor her so we can bestow chocolate and Pepsi on her (and make sure her daughter is clueless where the Pepsi is hidden.)
Um, maybe you need to read the book for book club YOU SUGGESTED again. You just love yourself and accept yourself. You are doing just fine! You must know there are so many people who admire and love you just the way you are!!! Me, included.