Thursday, November 17, 2011

Here Comes Mrs. Type A

I had a brain explosion yesterday.  It was like those moments where you feel the room getting smaller and smaller and when you come back to reality you have a moment of clarity.  The only difference is that my rooms really are getting smaller and smaller because they are filled with so much crap!  And my moment of clarity consisted of me slamming the same cabinet door shut about ten times. 

I don't really know how we let it get so bad but I know that if I don't do something about it soon someone just may have to lock me up in the looney bin!  I've always been so anal when it comes to keeping things neat and that has all gone to hell in a hand basket.

I have no idea how to fix it.  I have no idea where to start.  But if I can actually get through this and get it done it will be amazing.  So, I guess I should just start with a bowl of Cocoa Puffs and a shower and work my tail off for the rest of the day!

Friday, October 28, 2011

Show Him the Money

I'm wondering if I should be concerned that my Kindergartner can go to school and the other kids give him money for no reason.  He comes home with a dollar here or fifty cents there.  I tell him not to take the money so what does he do?  He takes it and gives it to another kid in the class.  Crafty little man.

Let's just hope I don't get angry parents wanting to beat me up over a buck.  Maybe I should start sending him to school with change to return the favor?  Decrease the amount of animosity?  And what is it with this little girl that tells him that his jacket smells bad one day and then brings him cheese the next day?

My interesting, cute, sassy little man :)

From Facebook to Blogger

I'm beginning to realize that I post on Facebook a lot.  New photos, hats for sale, photography, kid says something funny, I stubbed my toe... everything seems to go there.  You can't really blame me.  I spend the majority of my time with kids and half a morning with my 6 month old baby.  I've got to have some kind of outlet.  But why do that when I have this wide open blog here?

It's been about 2 months since my last blog.  Which talked about my cranky morning ways and eating donuts.  Stimulating stuff.  Ironically, I also had donuts this morning.  Not Dunkin Donuts, but some small powdered Hostess donuts.  In case you were wondering.

I want to try a little harder to put my thoughts and such here.  I do like writing.  And luckily, blogger doesn't have a character limit.

So far today has been pretty mild.  I wasn't feeling well yesterday but managed to go out and get some yarn for some Etsy projects.  My excellent husband ran out and grabbed some Panera soup for me because he's just awesome like that.  I didn't get a ton of sleep because my little guy was up here and there and then my eight year old woke me up at 3am telling me he had a stomach ache.

I thought it was 5:30 when he woke me up and in my lovely half awakened style asked where Dad was so that he could deal with this issue (my husband is typically up by 5am and out the door around 5:30ish).  My son informed me it was only 3am so I told him to go back to bed and sleep it off.  I would feel badly about shooing him away, but he did sleep it off and felt fine when he woke up again for school. 

Despite the many awakenings, I am surprisingly not too tired.  Which is good because I have to be on my toes when I deal with my teenager.  He's in 8th grade this year.  Tonight is also his Halloween dance.  At the beginning of the week he made a promise that he was going to do a great job on all of his chores because he really wanted to go.

Some people may not agree with this way of parenting, but I feel like kids need to earn their rights to have fun.  Now, if he was a straight A student, did all of his chores properly and was not out to cause trouble at every turn I would probably let him go with out batting an eye.  However, he isn't a straight A student.  He could be, but in true teenage spirit, he would rather socialize than focus.  He'd also rather watch me rewash all of the dishes before using them than doing the job correctly.  So, we are on an 'earn to have fun' plan.

Upon getting ready to eat my tasty Hostess donuts, I grabbed a small plate out of the dishwasher (which isn't really a dishwasher at this point, it's a dish holder... it's broken).  It was completely greasy.  Yuck.  I told him that I have a hard time saying yes to him going to the Halloween dance when he has not upheld his end of the bargain.  A bargain he himself created.  So I get to be the bad guy in a bargain I didn't even create.  Yay me.

Despite this battle at 8am, I am still in a decent mood.  My husband and I have been battling bad jobs and financial strife for long enough and we are in hopes that the winds are beginning to change.  I can almost feel the weight being lifted off of my shoulders.

He's hopefully only a couple of weeks (if that long) away from being offered a new job.  This may require a short move northward, but it's not decided yet.  I'm almost welcoming of this change though.  Finding a home with space that actually accommodates seven humans and maybe a little more space for my photography business.  Things are looking upward.  We may even get to eat dinner outside of the house tonight!  Someone else to cook and someone else to do the dishes!  That's my kind of Friday!

Other than that, I've been busy with photography.  I'm happy with the direction that is all going and if it wasn't for the recent jobs I've booked we may not have been able to pay the mortgage.  It feels nice to have been able to help my husband by taking a little pressure off.  The knitting/crochet business has been treating me been pretty well too.  I can't complain much.

They say you learn something when you go through hard times.  I think I've learned a lot.  The most important one is learning that there really is nothing that my husband and I can't get through together.  My kids are awesome, they have learned to understand that when times are tough we all have to band together.  Like finding pennies in the street and putting them in our little bank.  They love helping!  I've learned that my husband is really good at sewing and can pretty much make anything out of anything.  He's hand made all of my kids costumes this year, which is amazing!  I can't wait to share that photos!  I've learned that I will always remember this hard time and make sure to be smarter about my decisions and the family decisions.

Well, that's about it for the moment.  It's not even noon yet, so we'll see what the rest of the day brings!  

Monday, August 29, 2011

Breakfast of Champions

I had a horrible evening.  Rotten even.  I love my baby boy so much, but man oh man do I wish that kid would sleep!  He's closing in on five months old now and just when you think he's getting close to allowing me to sleep all night he goes and changes it right up.  

I feel bad for him though.  I think the little bugger is starting to teeth.  Although there are no signs of sharp daggers popping through his gums just yet, the drooling, whining, chewing and tugging on his ear are probable signs.  What it means for me, however, is that I'm up every hour to hour and a half at night trying to calm the little guy down so he can go back to sleep.  You get the picture.  I wake up looking and feeling like an angry super mutant from Fallout.  For those of you who don't know what that looks like, it goes a little something like this:

Yep, pretty scary, huh?  I just wish I had that body armor to protect myself from the day's events.

My children all get up at 6AM.  By then the baby is ready to eat and be changed.  In my mutant like state I yell at every little noise my children make.  If they fart I get angry.  I text my husband telling him how angry I am that he has to go to work and he's abandoned me sleepless with five children.  It's irrational, yes, but again... I'm not quite myself (refer back to the above photo).  The morning progresses and I do everything in my power to sneak in a few more opportunities to close my eyes.  It doesn't go well.    

An hour later, my eight year old asks me if he can walk to the bus stop by himself.  I decided in my very tired and fragile mutant state that this request was worth granting.  So I gave him a quick recap of the "stranger danger" speech and sent him on his way.  I then flopped (and yes, it was most definitely a flop) back on the couch to sleep for another thirty minutes before I had to put my two younger boys on the bus.  I can't let them walk by themselves yet.  They'd probably get lost and end up in Egypt.

Thirty minutes later, I change into a pair of jeans and put a sweater on over my newly stained white tank top (hating my washing machine blog to follow soon) and get the kids into the car to drive the half a block to the bus stop.  I really am that lazy.

While I'm sitting in the car waiting for the bus to mosey on down the road, I decide that I'm hungry.  My thirteen year old is at home with the baby, so I decide that a quick trip to Dunkin' Donuts is in order.  The boys skip onto the bus and I head the few blocks to the yummy donut shop.  

Upon arrival, I grab an orange juice and tell the guy I want a dozen donuts.  A lady grabs a box and asks me what ones I want.  I carefully select pretty much every donut with frosting and sprinkles (with the exception of 2 crullers) and avoid anything with filling.  Filling donuts are just gross.  They are.  She closes up the box, looks at me and says, "Yum!  I wish I worked where you work!".  I just gave her a sideways smile and walked out the door.  In my puked on jeans, stained tank top and over sized sweater she thought I was on my way into the office?  Not to mention my horrifying hair do' and bloodshot eyes.  Lady, I'm taking these puppies home.  To my quiet house.  To enjoy the sugary goodness all to myself.  So I can return to normal from my super mutant state.

Don't they look good?   

Monday, August 22, 2011

Where I'm At Today

I'm finding myself stuck in a rut lately.  I want to blame it on the horrific financial situation my husband and I have been in for the better part of two years now.  I want to blame it on the complete douche my husband works for.  I want to blame it on pretty much every stupid, petty thing I can possibly lay thought on.

I'm learning, though, that it's not about the money and not about the douchey boss (although I'm not making that up.. that guy is like Michael Scott and Bill Lumbergh made a baby and dropped it on it's head... A LOT).  It's about me.  It's about beating myself up for years.  It's about letting every small thing affect my motivation, my style, my attitude and my happiness.

I think back to my senior year of high school.  I found myself young and pregnant.  I knew college wasn't going to be in the cards.  I didn't really know what to expect and I sure as hell didn't have a plan.  I just knew that I would have to take care of that baby and do a damn good job.

My oldest son was born before my senior year was over.  I finished my classes at home with tutors and I was able to graduate with my class.  Everyone was so proud of me.  Hell, I was proud of me.  A couple of months after graduation I got myself a job (not that I hadn't worked before, but this job was for a purpose greater than extra money for school clothes and movies) and with in my son's first year of life, I had an apartment, a car and a crap load of self respect.  That doesn't mean it was easy, but I was happy with my life.  I was doing it.  I was living my life and taking good care of my son.

I think that's the hardest thing to cope with today.  I did it then, why can't I do it now?  The easy answer is that I don't have just one baby anymore.  I have a husband and five children.  That's a lot of mouths to feed.  I watch my husband suffer daily at his job and feel helpless.  I can't do anything to save him.  My role is taking care of our kids.  It's an important job, but I'm the type of person that wants to be the savior.  I want to help everyone.  I want to fix everything.  That's a lot of fucking pressure to put on myself.  It's no wonder I've kind of become a nut job.

But the world keeps moving.  My kids are growing up.  Another year passes by.  I keep getting older.  In all these years though, I have never recovered that faith in myself.  That confidence I had when I was 18 and 19.  I've been trying to get my photography business off the ground and although I enjoy taking photos, I still haven't found my niche.  I think it's mainly because I lack confidence. I lack confidence in myself and I lack faith in my own abilities.  I do somehow manage to turn out good photos and I do get business, but I think that this isn't really going to take off for me until I truly know who I am.  I have to somehow get back to that old me.  Not go into the past, but rediscover the strong person I used to be.  I have a lot to offer and I have a lot to say.  I just need to stop doubting myself and I need to remember that I'm no superhero and I shouldn't keep trying to be one.  I'm just Cathy Broz.  I'm a wife.  I'm a mother.  I'm a photographer.  I'm a person who likes to teach herself how to do new things.  What the hell is wrong with that?

I hate writing sappy shit and being all serious here, but in struggling with this blog and keeping it alive I've found that I have to just be myself.  And this is it folks.  Bad moods, good moods, bitch on wheels.  At the end of the day, I truly have to figure this out... for myself for sure, but definitely for these guys....

Friday, July 8, 2011

What I Have to Say to the Two Sewing Machines Living in My Home

To Sewing Machine #1, 

I know you were a gift, but you are evil and you must be destroyed.  You suck so badly that I think even your bobbin hates you.

Would it kill you to at least pretend like you and I get along?  You just can't take it that I'm more creative than you are.  You jealous, unworthy, heartless hunk of crapola.  

I will sell you.  Don't test me.  You owe me many dollars for the thread you've decided to eat instead of make into beautiful garments.

I know you can't see it, but I am flipping you the bird.

To Sewing Machine #2,

I thought you and I had a fighting chance.  You're a more mature model, loaned to us from my mother in law.  You did such a nice job producing straight, untangled stitches for my husband.

Boy was I wrong.  You must have had a conversation with Sewing Machine #1.  That bastard.  I don't understand why you listened to it.  I'm a nice person.  I tried to make sure I knew what I was doing before I used you.  I tried to be gentle and use pretty fabric.  What did you give me? Tangles.  Wasted thread.  Ruined fabric.

You can go back home.  Jerk face.

To Both of You,

I hate the grounds you rest on.  If I were as embarrassing as you, I'd sit with covers on too.

You made me feel like it was me.  Well, I'm not the one who sucks.  It's you.  Both of you.

Never again will I put fabric through you.  Never again shall a bobbin be threaded on you.  I wish you bad things.  Bad things, you hear!

Do not try to contact me again after this.  You are dead to me.

The woman who could have made you famous

Monday, June 6, 2011

Bring on the Junk

My husband recently came to the conclusion that he has gained a little bit more weight than he deemed acceptable over the course of the last few years.  A lot of things contributed to this.  Stress.  Being out of work.  Suffering from Hank Hill-itis.  (He would literally stand out in the street with three other neighbors drinking beer and observing the neighborhood.)  But, he has since decided that he wants to be healthier and wants to take off some weight.  I'm really proud of him!  Losing weight is no easy task.

He signed up with and decided to start keeping track of what he was eating and how many calories he was taking in.  On March 16th of this year, he was at 192 lbs.  A short two and a half months later he is down to 176 lbs.  I think that's pretty impressive.  I wish I had his discipline.

I gave birth to my fifth child two months ago.  I didn't gain a lot of weight, but ate a heck of a lot of crap.  At the beginning of the pregnancy I was about 110 lbs.  At the end of the pregnancy I was at about 135 lbs.  The first week after delivery I dropped down to about 120lbs.  Since then, I haven't really lost much.  I lingered down at 116 for a while, but am now back up to 120.  I'm definitely not proud of that.

Every time I start bitching about how fat I am he gives me a look and says, "my fitness pal!".  I really don't have a desire to find out how many calories I take in a day.  I already know it's bad.  Why put myself through the pain and agony?  I think I tracked it for one day and I was over twice what I should be eating.  Of course I get that this is probably why I can't get rid of the extra weight, but I love eating!  I say down with calorie counting!   Bring on the Oreos, Fritos, ranch dip, 24 oz Coke and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches!  Yum!

I guess I'll have to find a different way to take off the pounds!

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Ode to His Shoes

Why, all his shoes, must you be in my way?
In front of the couch and the chairs,
I'd be great if I didn't trip over you today.

Why, all his shoes, must you taunt me so bad?
In the center of the living room,
Oh you make me so mad!

All his shoes, go and bug someone else please.
Instead of reproducing your pairs
In ones, twos and threes.

How do I cope with all of his shoes?
The garbage is too mean.
So I toss them in the bedroom.

All of his shoes really are few.
Far less than mine,
All around mine are not strewn.

All of his shoes, different kinds you may be
Sandals, gym shoes and boots
It doesn't matter to me.

Please, oh please, all of his shoes.
I am willing to bargain,
Let's make a truce.

Stop laying around, stubbing my toes
And you can stay here
All of his shoes, hear all of my woes.

Dear, all of his shoes, have I made myself clear?
No?  I thought not.
Oh, just give me a beer.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

The Bunny

Something concerning has been brought to my attention.  Very concerning.

I truly enjoy viewing all of my friends' photos on Facebook.  I truly enjoy posting my own photos for everyone else to view as well.  Being that it is around Easter, there have been lots of photos of children with the Easter Bunny.  It's only natural.  The photos are adorable too.  Well, at least the kids in the photos are adorable.

Have you ever really taken a good look at the Easter Bunny costume?  I'd say about 90% of these creepy things look like this:

What's with the look on that beast's face?  With that open mouthed, wide eyed expression he may as well be saying "oh yea, kid, sit on MY lap".  It's really not cute.  In fact, I think he should be arrested and be forced to register as a sex offender.  Bunnies... aren't they known sex fiends?  Why oh why are we sticking our kids on their laps?  It's the thing nightmares are made of!  Those eyes... those eyes!

It's creepy!  Creepy I tell you!

I propose that cuter, fluffier Easter Bunny costumes be made.  Who's with me?  Let's save our children from this troubling creature!!

All I know is if I see that thing walking around in public, I don't think I'll be able to keep from clothes lining it's creepy ass and running for my life.  Just sayin'.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

"Eggies" Just For Me

There is nothing I love more than those moments after all of my kids have left for school.  My youngest three boys all get on the school bus at the same time and my oldest leaves about a half hour later.  I truly feel like I spend the first two and half hours of my day nagging and nagging and nagging.  I get tired of listening to myself.

The morning all begins with getting dressed.  I have to keep on them, or they'll be throwing underwear (clean or dirty) at each other and laughing hysterically instead of putting clothes on their bodies.  I also have to make sure said clothes are on them properly.  Which despite my best efforts, one of them  always ends up sporting a backwards sweater.  My favorite is when I'm having an off day where I'm really not paying much attention and my five year old goes to school wearing a red t-shirt underneath a short sleeved green polo shirt with a blue, black and white flannel over it and Snuggie socks.  I'm beginning to think all boys are color blind.

My next nagging session transpires when I've found out that none of my children have informed me that we are out of Cheerios and I must now let them eat my own special stash of cereal.  That's right, I save all the sugary goodness filled cereals for myself.  I've got needs you know.  Besides, no one ever stopped me from eating sugary cereals when I was a kid.  Now I'm a sugar hound with bad teeth.  I definitely wouldn't want to let my own children indulge in such cereals just to endure the pain and suffering I've gone through.  It may be too late for me, but I can still save the children of the future.

This is followed by twenty minutes of following my youngest three around to make sure they have brushed their teeth.  It goes something like this, "Have you brushed your teeth?".  "Yes, Mom.".  "Have you really?  If you lie to me, I'm going to be angry.  Now, did you really brush your teeth?".  "No.".  Multiply that conversation by three.  Why can't they just tell me they didn't brush their teeth in the first place? Is brushing really that painful?  Really?  It's not like they brush like normal humans anyway.  They put toothpaste on their toothbrushes, spend two minutes sucking it all off, wash it down with water by drinking directly out of the faucet, wipe their faces on their clean shirts and then exit the bathroom.  Viola... piece of cake.

By this time they've got a few minutes to spare.  I insist that they sit down with a book and read quietly.  This strategy only works if I'm in the room.  Should I decide to take a quick shower before walking them to the bus stop, they decide my plan sucks.  Out come the He-Man swords.  Lego people are being dismembered.  Races are being conducted up and down the hallways.  Anything but sitting down quietly and reading.  At least until I've been spotted back in the room, then they scatter like roaches.

I have an iPhone.  For those that are familiar with iPhones, you know that you can set an alarm and choose whatever sound listed that you like to go off when the alarm goes off.  I have mine set to the quacking duck.  My boys have grown accustomed to the duck alarm.  They know when it goes off, they need to exchange their books (or He-man swords and lego people) for their coats, backpacks and shoes.  Since it is winter time, we throw in snow pants and boots.  My four year old is not very good at getting all of those things on himself.  I have to spend at least five minutes shoving each limb into small holes.  Have you seen those foot holes in snow pants?  Once I find the dang thing, I have to work hard to get him to aim his foot properly to get it through.  Lather, rinse, repeat for the other leg.  Then we have the boots.  Oh man, I hate boots.  This morning in particular, I spent at least two minutes trying to shove his foot into a boot when it was already all the way in.  When I finally told him, "You know, I can't do this all myself, you have to help me a little.", he replied with, "Mom, it's already in!  He he".  Seriously?

Finally, I get the three Musketeers out the door.  We stand out in the cold for probably ten to fifteen minutes waiting for the bus and I send them on their merry way.  To which I then come back to the house to my pre-teen.  He obviously doesn't cause the same mishaps as his younger brothers, but he does have chores to do in the morning.  I near always find that he has been distracted from doing them properly or he is just pretending to do them.  So, I spend  the rest of the time that he is here talking to him about how important it is to help out around the house and be a team player.  Another conversation that makes me tired of listening to myself.  He's definitely a pre-teen though, selfish and lazy.  Smart as hell when it suits his needs.  Just lazy.

Why did I walk you through my lengthy and tedious morning routine?  For a few of reasons.  First, because I can.  You know you all love reading about the crazy antics that go on in my house.  Second, because I am so not a morning person and I just need to vent sometimes.  Lastly, because I want you to know the full pleasure I get when for about three hours each morning I get complete silence.  It's me to myself and my own thoughts.  No shouting, no nagging, my eyes stay in their sockets.  (All until April rolls around and I have a newborn in the house again.)

Yep, for a few short hours I can sit down and enjoy simplicity.  I can sit down and write blogs like this.  I can sit at my kitchen table and look out my back window while drinking a glass of orange juice, taking in the elegant way the snow sits atop my husband's grill on the back patio.  I can pee with the bathroom door open.  Most importantly, I can enjoy my breakfast in peace.  *"Eggies" just for me.

*In case anyone is curious why I call them "eggies", it's just a stolen word from my four year old.  That's what he calls them, so that's what I call them.  I also call burgers "beegers" and cookies "bookies".  

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Let It Snow

My five year old son was gazing out the window, watching it snow.  He really is the quietest little thing, especially when his two older brothers are at school and his younger brother is napping.  He's going to be a middle child in a couple of short months here.  I am expecting baby number five in early April.  Another boy.  So he will officially have two older brothers and two younger brothers.  Of all of my boys though, I think he will be the best big brother to this new baby.  He's so sweet and kind.  He always wants to help whenever he can.  Such a true gift for us to have as parents.

Anyway, I saw him looking out the window and thought I'd snap a couple of pictures.  I'm posting here the one that spoke to me the most.

I love the simplicity of this photo.  It portrays quietness to me, which is just like him.

Quiet, smart and sweet.