Well, maybe not super stressful, but enough. I had someone come in to order a cake Saturday morning and after finishing, I casually mentioned that I needed to finish the three wedding cakes I was working on. She stepped over to the wall where, I was working on three separate tiered cakes.
"You seem exceptionally calm." She said.
I shrugged, the first delivery was more than two hours away and the other two were closer to four hours away.
I stayed that calm until about 4:45 when we were loading the second and third cakes into the car (along with their corresponding grooms cakes) and I really realized how behind I was running.
That's when I started to freak out a bit.
I don't like being late. I'm usually running right on time. Which Brad considers to be late. And really, I would prefer to be early, but I'm usually right on time. But this day? I was about ten minutes behind. Which, wasn't a big deal because I was still over an hour away from the starts of the weddings.
But then there's the fear.
What if a cake falls?
What if a cake falls into another cake?
That's when my heart rate begins to reach that dangerous level.
Brad doesn't like that I'm always pushing it. He says that I need to fail. That I need to fall on my face. That I lack 'The Fear.'
And, I guess that's true, to an extent. In much of my life, I have fear. I fear failure. Majorly. I fear it so much, that almost every time the phone rings I'm certain that it's going to be bad news. I draw in my breath and wait for the onslaught. I'm convinced that people are going to be unhappy so I prepare for it.
Granted, that doesn't protect me from the times when they actually aren't happy. I'm crushed.
But, I tend to plow forward regardless. I tend to think, "I can do that." "I can manage that."
And so I do.
Until that day when I fall on my face.
But until then, I will continue to deliver cakes like these:
