Strain

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Last night we ate with a group of friends at Soda Fountain Square in Lafayette Park. I've often noticed that when parents and their children go out with a group of friends, the party becomes segregated; the single and childless sit on one end and the parents on the other end, corralling their children. It was more of the same last night, and while we truly love our single and childless friends - and our kids - it's one of the reminders of the separate worlds in which we live.

Chris wasn't especially celebratory yesterday. It's been a tough week, a tough year for la famille de Loesch. Chris's business is the looming factor in our lives and the building they're rehabbing isn't just a building they're rehabbing, it's a multi-million-dollar project - a blessing but dude, THE WORK. A lot of things are on the line right now. Our financial stability is on the line. So many little pieces of this puzzle have to fall perfectly in place for this venture to be successful and when one little piece aggravatingly won't fit all progress screeches to an abrupt halt. Normally I love the excitement that the rollercoaster of life brings, but we've found ourselves wanting to hide under the bed lately.

I've been fortunate enough to have opportunities which bring in some cash and do an awesome job of offsetting any stress. Plus, it's work that I absolutely love to do. But still, the stress remains; the stress over long-term finances, our kids' college education, savings, health insurance, etc. Chris and I were taking turns, freaking out in tandem, but last night I made the decision to NOT freak out anymore.

I'm the type of person that when pressure hits, I kinda break down Janice Dickinson-style for a nanosecond before digging my heels in and pushing back. I attribute it to my intensely competitive, perfectionist nature, and other things. I've never given up on any project I've ever attempted and I've never failed getting anything that I've wanted. I'm usually too busy going after the goal to worry about what may happen along the way. It's a blessing of selective tunnel vision.

So last night when Chris confided his worries to me after the lights were off, I dug my heels in. He expressed concern over his workload and wondered if it was perhaps putting a strain on our family. I said no. He was sad that he doesn't get to spend as much time with the kids as I do.

"I look at these projects as a war-of-sorts," I replied. "We're all manning it on different fronts. You can't be where I am because then your flank would go exposed. I can't be where you are because then who would hold down the homefront? We're each where we need to be."

I see the light at the end of the tunnel but there are a lot of hurdles we have to jump in the meantime. I'm not afraid. And we're sure as heck not giving up.

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