When I first decided to head out on this path of reviving my trading career and documenting it along the way, I envisioned myself huddled over books throughout the day, studying charts, placing well thought out trades, then spending every night after my kids went to bed at my laptop with a glass of wine joyfully writing witty posts everyone could relate to a la Julie and Julia. So far, the only thing out of that vision that’s come to fruition is the nightly glass (2 or 3) of wine, and it hasn’t been spent joyfully in front of my laptop, but rather exhausted on the couch in front of my television.

I didn’t write a single post last week.

The fact is (and this is obviously not news to me, so I don’t know what I was thinking), I have two kids, and they are not yet of the age where I can just set them down with some toys and a movie; they are 2.5 years, and 7 months old. While the 2.5 year old is at daycare until 3 each day, the 7 month is home with me, and she does not allow for much time devoted to reading or sitting at a computer. In fact, she’s going through a bit of an “obsessed with mommy please don’t put me down or I’ll fucking die” stage. So, much to the surprise of anyone who’s had children (and even those who don’t, probably), by the time 7:30 or 8 rolls around, I sit down for dinner just in time to catch Final Jeopardy, then fall asleep on my husband halfway through the episode of whatever show we happen to be on, and he has to force me to go upstairs to bed against my will (agree with me, please, that there is nothing worse than having to change then brush your teeth after you’ve already fallen asleep on the couch…truly the fucking worst).

This means the majority of my opportunities to accomplish anything throughout the day, are during my 7 months old’s naps, which are currently about as volatile as oil itself.

On top of trading, I try to devote at least 45 minutes of exercise to each day. I used to be able to go to the gym for at least an hour every afternoon, and it was truly my favorite time of the day, and holy shit, do I miss it. Covid, however, forced me to start collecting equipment of my own, after my gym closed (oh, and I had a baby), and I now have a small, but effecient, workout space in my basement. Even with it being conveniently downstairs, it has gotten incredibly difficult to make it down there, lately, with my youngest being so unpredictable and wanting of me (I will not say needy, because she is the happiest baby I’ve ever encountered…so long as I am near).

Then there’s food. I mean, these people have to eat. My husband is a beautiful, beautiful man, but he can’t cook for shit. Like, actually. He would live on rice and ground beef if he was forced to survive on his own. My mother, however, is an incredible cook, and having worked in many restaurants throughout my teens and twenties, I became fond of cooking. As a result, I put a great deal of care into the food I make. Again, this is time consuming.

Also, occasionally, life just gets in the way. Last week, I had to have a tooth pulled. Anyone who knows me, knows this was devastating to me, as teeth are something I care a great deal about. But, I had fractured the root from clenching my teeth so hard at night as a result of stress, so alas, it had to come out. Actually, in the last 3 years or so, I’ve cracked four teeth from stress. I’ve had to get crowns on each of them, root canals on a few, and now one pulled, and I believe another one is not far behind. Again, this is devastating. I’m on the fast road to looking like a meth head, although I do plan on getting implants to replace them. This is all incredibly costly, too, which is exacerbating the stress, and so we go in this vicious cycle. Anyway, life gets in the way sometimes.

So get to the fucking point, already…

This whole thing is going to be a lot harder than I thought. I don’t think I’ll be posting daily, as I had originally planned. And I doubt I am going to be getting a funded account in a matter of days, as I had also originally planned. My small steps to getting back to where I want to be in my career, are actually going to be more like a shuffle (my Latin teacher at boarding school, a Benedictine monk, used to shuffle around my desk, making his shoes squeak loudly if I wasn’t paying attention, or doing something wrong, which was often, because Latin, and I think about this every time I see or use the word “shuffle”).

That doesn’t mean I’m going to give up. It just means I have to be more realistic about my current station in life, and maybe even perhaps a bit more forgiving. My mother always accuses me of living under a blanket of guilt put upon me by the Catholic church. I constantly remind her that I am not a Catholic, but she likes to place the blame on my father whenever possible, who is, and frighteningly, end of days, so.

So I’m just going to very slowly keep at it, the best I can, when I can, so I can stare into the mirror at night and say, like Bob Wiley to Dr. Marvin, “I’m doing the work! I’m baby stepping! I’m not a slacker!” Except if we’re being honest, the only thing I say to myself in the mirror at night is, “I hope to god this fucking kid sleeps through the night.” And then she doesn’t, and we start over the next day, because that’s just the way life is right now, and that’s fine, because it won’t be forever, and change just takes time.