Ownership

Because I by-passed the whole single living thing, there is very little in my life which is all mine. As a kid I never had to share a room, but I had siblings. Ergo I had people sharing stuff - clothes, books, toys, space, whatever. When I moved away to college, I still had very little stuff which was mine. I didn't own a dodgy futon, IKEA bookcases, lava lamp (okay, I had one of those), plastic storage crates or a bar fridge.

Tangent story: I also shared a dorm room with a complete psycho who had herself convinced I was a black kid from the 'hood before I even got there (by virtue of having come from Los Angeles, where of course everyone is the same, right?) . Some months later she was also (wrongly) convinced that I was eating the (disgusting) Little Debbie snacks her parents sent her. Umm, hello, Psycho Bitch. A) Your Little Debbie cakes are gross. I KNOW because I stole one *after* you accused me, and I ate it, and I thought it was CRAP. B) It's totally freaky that your Dad sent you bags and bags of Little Debbie cakes because your name was Deborah, and frankly you NEVER ate anything anyway as you had some serious anorexic tendencies and C) It's weird that you lived in a dorm 20 minutes away from your parent's house. Oh, and by the way, finding you in our room, in the middle of the day, wearing a bright sunshine yellow slinky matching short and top PJ set, smoking (who knew you smoked?) and saying, "My biggest goal in life is to be the other woman" would freak out ANYONE, even a liberal like me.

But I digress. So anyway I shared a lot in college, and straight from college I got married so there was more sharing happening there (although, *wink* *nudge* some of it was quite nice.) The one thing I currently own which is MINE, entirely all MINE, is my car. It's a little green box. It's kinda too small for me, legs and big bazoombas wise. It's totally impractical for kids. It still has a tape deck and the radio button is either quiet or loud but never off since it's broken. The trunk is filled with more junk than you can imagine, including about 100 (literally) blank pads of paper. Until recently it also had a croquet set. My car is all mine because I bought it with money that my grandmother left me. It remains the single most expensive thing I ever purchased, and I bought it with money all my own. I think of it as my little slice of freedom. I adore my car...as in, really love the damn thing {insert adoring swooney puppy dog love look.}

One of the more exciting parts about the business is that it's now the second thing which is mine. All mine. It was me who decided to follow this crazy route. Me who made the phone calls. Me who bought the equipment. Me whoe wrote loads of spreadsheets, and even more "To Do" lists. Me who harassed friends, tested recipes, doodled cake designs on napkins, read a lot of how-to books, ate too much butter cream and me who decided that yes, cupcakes are annoying but have a high profit margin. So I was (as per usual) gloating about all this to DH. About how the biz was all about me, me, me me, me.

The gloat lasted about 24 hours, and if I'm honest it wasn't as satisfying as I thought it was going to be. It was {maniacal laugh} MINE. ALL MMMIIIINNNNNEEEEE. But somehow it felt a little bit hollow. What I've realised since then is that while my name is on the lease, my name is on the business card, my name is on the website, and my name is all over the damn place....it actually belongs to a whole LOT of people.

• DH: who babysat the kids while I went to culinary school, who ate endless rounds of cake (I know, not exactly a sacrifice), who continues to be patient while my too-tired self ignores his 'but what about me?" needs for kisses and cuddles
• My IL's: who also babysat kids, ordered cakes, talked me up to their friends and anyone else who would listen
• My SIL & BILS: Who offered advice, tasted and tried to be polite about yet more cakes, and who continue to be as supportive as their busy lives allow
• My own family and siblings: Who, by virtue of their wanting to be here (so they can order, taste, and talk me up) are with me every single day even though they don't feel like they are
  
• My kids: Who start asking what kind of birthday cake they're going to get...the day AFTER their birthday
• My friends, both here and overseas, in real life and on-line: Words couldn't express. I mean, really. Extra special thanks to Alexis, Martene, Sez, Wends, Sacha, Joshua, Rubina...(real names used to expose the not-so-innocent. You guys rock.)
• ...and all those people who, in the past 3 years or so, ordered stuff, ate stuff, talked to me, taught me, suffered my talking back, and in general helped me build this thing called Three Sweeties. (doncha love my gratuitous linking?)
  

Maybe I should have named it A HUNDRED Sweeties - because that's about how many it took to get this far.

In any case, I find myself thinking only one thing: I've never been more happy to share.