Picture disaster, raw cookie dough and diabetic cookies: Failures in Life.

Today has been a disaster, no a failure. I'll back up, and begin with last night. My good friend was scheduled to come over and take family photos for our Christmas cards. I scoured the web to find poses. I had in mind the adorable, priceless pics we would take. A picture with the boys spelling out the word "J-O-Y", one with the boys huddled around Dylan as he read the Bible, and an endearing shot with Mr. Man and I looking lovingly into each others' eyes. 

I picked the boys up from school, and went straight to get hair cuts. I knew this would leave little time to get home, and put on the coordinating outfits, but I wanted them to look nice and kempt. I don't know if somewhere along the line I offended the older barber, but he refuses to cut my boys' hair. I will walk in, with no other customers, and he'll sit in the chair and assure me his grandson will be back soon. He'll then read the paper. When the next customer walks through the door (young or old) he'll put his paper away, and promptly begin cutting their hair. In a way, this makes me feel funny, but if you saw the hair cuts he gives, you'd probably be telling me to be grateful. 

Old man barber seems to have one style, and one style only. It involves cutting the back and sides of the hair very short, and leaving some on the top. Always with zigzag bangs. I can always tell when he's cut Mr. Man's hair. (Yes, the grudge is only with me.) After haircuts, we raced home, and I found Mr. Man grumpy as can be. I was yelling at the kids to get ready, rearranging the house, and trying to curl my hair which refused to hold any style except frizzy and limp. By the time my girlfriend arrived, tension in our house was running high. The boys were running around like animals, and Mr. Man had decided he was going to start dinner. (yes, just as the photographer arrived.) Nothing went right. Screaming at the kids to behave. Screaming at the kids to smile. Threatening. Yelling. Begging them to give me one good shot. All the while, Mr. Man did that embarrassing man thing, where despite company, and me trying to leave the "we're an amazingly happy, loving never fighting couple" impression, he moped, and yelled the entire shoot. I felt embarrassed, and wondered why I even bothered. My friend in PA also has four boys, yet she ALWAYS manages to get her tree just so, and the perfect family photo (including the dog) with her beautiful tree, and clean house in the background. 

Today wasn't much better. For weeks, I've had wreath stuff piled in my family and living room. I couldn't wait to load them up to the craft fair, and have my house back. I woke up, and got dressed, while Mr. Man loaded the beast. Again, it must be a man thing, but when I am in a rush, Mr. Man is on Texas time. He does this thing where he refuses to be rushed, and if he knows you are in a hurry, he seems to sloooooooooow down. I arrived 30 min before the craft show and began setting up, while Mr. Man sauntered in and began setting up my displays. Tick tick tick. The boys meanwhile, are running around like animals in the gym, and I begin to sweat. 

  Luckily, two my girlfriends (have I mentioned what AMAZING friends I have?) came to see me. They each bought a wreath, and then this sweet woman bought another. Three wreaths in the first 45 minutes! Praise the Lord. I sat and waited for me people. And waited. And waited. Luckily, Mr. Man came back to bring me tape for my sign, and left my eldest to keep me company. 

 With my 250 business cards, and my ultra swank sign, I felt very professional. Minutes turned into hours. This place was dead. I felt heartbroken. By 4 o'clock, I called Mr. Man, and told him to come get me. Apparently, I had woken him up from a nap, and he arrived an hour later. The boys marched in like soldiers, and took my displays down. They carried each piece of heavy wood to the beast. I must admit, by this time, I had pulled the van up behind the beast, and just sat *pouted* and watched as they loaded each wreath back into the car. 

By the time we got home, it was nearly 6pm. I lingered in the bathroom, having a pity party for myself, and taking off my earrings, and exchanging my black pants for a pair of oversized sweat pants. My boys continued working. They carried all of my wreaths up to the bonus room, and carried on about what "pretty" wreaths they were, and how people had been "crazy not to buy them." I must admit, this comforted me a bit. As a mom of four boys, there are some perks, this is one of them. I get huge compliments on all "girl" things I do. To people who can't match clothes, (or socks for that matter), they are in constant awe of my creations, (even the hideous wreaths I make which I dub the "ugly babies" AND which always end up selling quickly.) 

After dinner, Mr. Man was in the kitchen baking some sugar free cookies. As part of my pledge to make Jesus the center of our Christmas (and yes, I realize the irony, and hypocrisy of my horrible attitude blog, but bear with me, I'm human) I organized a group of my mom friends and their kids to go to a nursing home. I figured a little singing, hand out some cookies and candy canes, and let the sweet old people visit with the kids. Apparently, I forgot about the diabetic geriatrics, and was warned some of the residents had swallowing issues, and would not be permitted to have any of our sweets. Mr. Man volunteered to make the diabetic batch of cookies. He offered me a taste, and I graciously gave Dylan the rest of it. We exchanged glances while trying to swallow down the tasteless biscuit cookie, when Mr. Man called from the kitchen to ask which kind of [sugar free] icing he should make to accompany the cookies. Dylan leaned over and whispered, "The kind that covers up the flavor of the cookie." We commenced to laugh ourselves silly. Luckily, Mama found a stash of leftover chocolate chip cookie dough, and we were saved from the delicious sugar free dessert. I hear as you get older, your taste buds get duller, in the case of Mr. Man's cookies, this will definitely work towards the diabetic residents advantage.  

Mistakes, craft fairs, and what not to say

 

Remember my first wreath I made?.....Somewhere between my 15th and 20th wreath, something clicked, and really got the hang of it. Maybe I'm a slow learner, or not as naturally crafty inclined as others, but around 20 wreaths and *wait for it* around $500 later, I finally found my groove in this whole wreath thing. I know, some of you still haven't picked your jaw up from the floor, but I told you I was stubborn! Anywho, just look, and tell me these don't look better than my first batch:

 How amazing is Mr. Man? I found out the day before the craft fair that there was a cancellation and that I had a spot! For under $30, Mr. Man fashioned this little display for me.

 These are just a few of my wreaths I took to my craft fair this weekend! In my life, the Lord keeps me humbled. I made all of these wreaths with nowhere to sell. I just think it's a blessing that with a days' notice, I was able to get these wreaths together and able to sell 9. Even though I'm still in the hole, I'm honoring my promise to the Lord, and setting aside $130.00 for my beloved Zimbabwe Missionary friends. Because, this money, isn't mine really, and I think it's easy to bargain with the Lord when we need Him, and forget our promises when we feel that we don't. I trust the Lord will work everything out, and am so excited that I can add to my "Zim Fund." (Mr. Man is happy that I'm all most out of the hole.)

Moving on, my Mom begged me not to post this last bit. Did I mention she's in town? Mom arrived last Sunday, and it's been so nice having her here. She's still perpetually nags me, rearranges my house, and tells me how ugly my couch is, but I love her. I told mom I always thought we were normal, but everywhere we go, people hear us going back and forth and laugh, so maybe we're not as normal as we think? Anywho, Mom's been a big help. We call her jokingly "Nanny Granny" when she watches the kids. Wednesday was Halloween, and before I took the boys out, I had to take *FAIL* another Chem exam. (great timing, right?) I locked myself in my room, and when I came out, this is what I found:

 Mom..is crazy. She smeared lipstick all over her lips, crazied her hair up, and put some of my bugs and cobwebs on her head. She answered the door looking like this all night. Actually, the glasses are kind of funny. 

Mom has gotten some of the worst hair cuts of anyone I have ever known. I don't know if it's her hair texture or just plain bad luck, but this latest one reminds me of that actress Linda Hunt OR Edna from the Incredibles.

Actually, I think Edna's looks better. I heard Mom talking to Liam about her hair. He was asking her why it looked so bad, and Mom was telling him that she felt sorry for a blind person, and gave them money to cut her hair. (It was really an Asian woman at Hair Cuttery who spoke minimal English. Mom said she asked for something that wouldn't accentuate her ears, and got the opposite. We think the message was lost in translation...)


Anywho, back to my tip of: "Things You Should Not Say to People at a Craft Fair": 

1. "Is it hard? How'd you do that?" Well, if I told you that, I probably would save you a lot of trouble, time, and money, and you wouldn't have to buy mine.
2. "Where'd you get all of your stuff from? Can I look and see how you constructed that?" Again, these are my babies, and I've spent hours upon hours researching, shopping, pricing out different stores, materials, qualities, and methods that make the best wreaths. It's like asking the Colonel for the secret ingredient. (Okay, that's a huge stretch, and I'm certainly not saying my wreaths are that good, but I thought it was a good comparison!)
3. "How much do these cost to make?" It depends on a LOT of factors! It's not a huge secret, but it's my little side business, so labor time is accounted for, but not by much. I have scanned Etsy, and lemme tell ya, the people that are getting $100-$200 for these babies are making it big! I promise you, I'm not. =)

Now, don't get me wrong! I love Southerns, and they just have a way of saying things that come to mind, but I'm not that money hungry type of girl. In fact, after my mom and I went through my product, costs, and time, my mom urged me to go higher on my prices. I like to go by the age old sayin' "Pigs get fatter, Hogs get Slaughtered." I know there's variations on that phrase, but that's what my family says. Basically, don't get greedy. If you set things at a reasonable prices, and deal fairly with others, you'll come of better than setting the prices too high. Anywho, complaints, and a little bit of hurt feelings aside, the Lord really blessed this weekend. I had so much fun, and can't wait to get into another craft fair. Oh, and just so I can totally make my plug, My ~*Neighborhood Envy*~ Store =)

 (Yes, I know, it's shameless!)

My bad week and big idea: Yet to be named

The week before last, was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week. Remember this book we read as kids? After studying for a week and half, I bombed my chem exam. By bomb, I mean 56%. I down right failed that baby. Mr. Man had to pick up another guy's shift at work, and I was left studying for hours on end while the boys tore up the house. The drive home from my exam was surreal. I cried and cried. The ugly kind of cry where you don't care who sees you and you feel like I failure. I went through all of the dramatics. "I quit. I mean it. I'm done." After my tears, my friends, family, and Mr. Man talked me back to reason, and I hired a tutor. $30 an hr. Are we rich? Absolutely not. But Mr. Man works his tail off to provide. My tutor, turned out to be a God send. Literally, I feel it was divine intervention. She lives in my town, and is a fellow believer. She's amazing, and so sweet. (Side note: Chemistry aside, she also babysits, and we've been looking for a sub, double plus!)

I'm not much of a crier. Don't get me wrong. If I watch a sappy commercial, or see one of those "Like if you believe he's a hero" pics on Facebook with the paraplegic solider, I will be bawling like a baby, but when it comes to people and relationships, I just don't cry. My mom would say it's because I "cried everyday" until I was 12, but I think that's a slight exaggeration. The past two weeks, I have been crying at the drop of a pin. My BIG meltdown was on my birthday. Now, before I tell this story, I must say, I had been struggling with Chem, been juggling the boys by myself while Mr. Man worked 13 days straight (12 hr shifts) and trying to keep my head above water. On my birthday, Mr. Man arrives home with a cake for me. All I wanted for my birthday was a yellow, butter cream icing cake. My house is divided on the icing issue. Half of the boys love the butter cream icing, while the other half sides with Kevin favoring the whipped icing. Well, Mr. Man, bless his heart, had just finished a 12 hour shift and ran by Walmart and grabbed my cake. He swears up and down he asked the toothless lady behind the counter three times if it was butter cream and she assured him it was. However, one glance at this cake, and my 4 year old could tell it was whipped icing. Commence 1 hour cry festival. My mom and I often say we say things to our husbands that we'd never forgive them saying to us. I cried and cried. I went from cake, to how he never listens, and how he purposefully got the wrong kind, and by the end of my emotional rant, I was convinced my husband didn't love or care about me.... because he bought me the wrong kind of icing. A few hours later, a few phone calls with my girlfriends later, I apologized to Mr. Man after his nap. I say all of this to explain my state of mind lately.

This wreath started it all. This woman in my neighborhood always decorates her house so nice. I bought some items at a craft store and made this wreath. I really enjoyed it, and thought, "Why not make these for a little extra money?" 
Reasons why Suzzy needs some extra cash:
#1. To send support $ to my Zimbabwe missionary friends
#2. To pay for my sweet Chemistry tutor that charges $30 an hr
#3. To help out Mr. Man who works so hard for our family
When I first toyed with this idea, Mr. Man wasn't too keen on my grand plan, however, when I have my mind set, there's usually little one can do to deter me. Maybe it's my way of making up for my youth. Growing up, I was so insecure, I would never try anything out of my comfort zone. I was scared that I would look like a fool trying anything new, and so I would just say, "I don't like it" and stand on the side. The adult me is starkly different. I will try anything, and if I look dumb, well, I firmly believe that after experiencing the labor and delivery room saga, there's nothing that can embarrass a mom. I digress. After researching *obsessing* my idea, googling, pricing, and looking at endless pictures, I decided that I was going to start making wreaths for money. Today, I went to hobby lobby, 4 kids in tow, and spent at least 2 hrs picking out everything I would need to start up my side business. I must say, my boys are pretty extraordinary. I asked them what they liked and didn't like and gave them tasks to find me certain items. When I came home, this is what I had: 
 

 I also bought about 20 wire frames to make wreaths, and I spent a scary amount to buy this stuff. When I say scary, I'm talking atleast 2 weeks worth of groceries for us. As I was unloading the last bag, I heard Mr. Man stirring. (He works nights) I organized my items, and waited until he was done with his shower to go talk to him. 
"Well, what's the damage he asked." I tried to gauge his mood. 
"Um.. a scary amount. Way more than I anticipated." 
"Uh hu.. well, what's the return? How much profit do you think you can get?"  =) This is my husband. Mom calls him Hinestein, because he's very frugal and very wise with money. He followed me out to our dining room where I had my loot spread out on the table. He asked me about costs, time, supplies, etc, and said, "Well, I guess that's not too awful bad." Phew. 

 "You're not brave, unless you're scared." I don't know where this came from, I know it's from a movie, but this line has stuck with me. After I saw my receipt, I was scared. In fact, the boys and I loaded up the van, and we proud over the supplies, and my wreaths. Proverbs 16:3 says, "Commit your plans to the Lord, whatever you do, and you will succeed." I prayed this as the boys and I head to Chick-Fil-A for lunch. Will I become rich off of wreaths? No. Is that my goal? Not at all. But if anything, this journey has taught me that I am blessed beyond belief to have a husband that supports all of my crazy ideas, that trying and failing is better than not trying at all, and that if you've been praying for the Lord to send more support to certain missionaries and He's been silent, it MAY be because He's already sent YOU.

I've saved the best for last. Next month, my 2 Mamas are coming to town: my Mama and my Mama in Law. and guess what they're going to help me do? Oh, yes, put wreaths together. They've been carrying on back and for on my Facebook page about how much work I already have lined up for them, but in all seriousness, these women are live savers. On a completely random note, I am at a loss for a store name. If you have any suggestions, I'm all ears. I was thinking "All Glammed Up", but it's already taken, as is "Mom's fun money." To my Mama's reading this, be brave. Be willing to step out of that box. You will never do anything great if you listen to opposition. Be confident. Be adventurous, and remember, you're only brave if you're scared. <3 Suzzy