I’ve been running Egg for five years now. It’s been a rollercoaster ride. Most of that time, I’ve done all the work: writing, looking for new clients, marketing and admin. Slowly I’ve been able to bring on a few freelance writers to help me.

A few months ago, we got a new client. Work for them has steadily increased, to the point that I’m working toward having 4 writers do the work. Four! That’s the most I’ve ever had.

And I took a very big step recently. I’ve handed over the complete administration to one of my writers. It’s a huge step in trust, to know that she can handle the client and won’t make my company look bad. It’s a huge step for a control freak to remove myself from the equation completely.

I feel amazing.

I feel like a huge weight has been lifted, and I feel like this is a good step toward more growth. Once I see that I’m not needed in every project we take on, we can do a lot more.

It frees me up to work on the projects I love doing, and it gives my writers more responsibility (and money).

Life is good.

Photo: Flickr user RambergMediaImages. Creative Commons 2.0.

Are your kids like you in ways that are eerie? Max is definitely his own person but sometimes I’m amazed at how like me he is.

He’s a rule follower. So am I. The few times in my youth that I rebelled (I mean, um, that one time that I got caught, Mom), I was so overwhelmed with guilt. He’s so afraid of doing anything that goes against the norm. Still, I’m pretty liberal these days, so that drives me crazy.

He likes a street fair as much as me. The hub would rather poke his eyes with a branding iron than walk down a street filled with thousands of sweaty people, hucksters selling solar paneling and water purifiers, the waft of waffle cones, street tacos and polish sausage dogs filling the air. We two? We like spinning the wheels and winning prizes. Eating our way down the street. Coming home with bellyaches.

He’s a worrywart like me, and I fear that he picked that up from watching me. He constantly worries that we’ll be late, probably because for years I urged him to move in the morning, or else “we’ll be late!” Now he checks his watch every two minutes. Drives me crazy #2.

We both would rather curl up with a good book or draw than be active. Though he’s great at soccer, and I only more recently discovered my inner athlete.

So when I see something I recognize in myself, I marvel at it. But I also marvel at the ways he’s made these characteristics, for better or worse, his own.

One day I explained to Max how it was more polite to use the word “obese” rather than “fat” when referring to heavy people. I didn’t think about the conversation again until a few months later when I told Max he had fat fingers.

He had a perplexed look, and I assumed I’d hurt his feelings by claiming that his digits were less than perfect.

“They’re obese fingers, Mama.”

That’s my boy.