Category: Uncategorized

by 207 Customs

Let me just start by saying: if you’ve ever wondered what happens when a hot water tank dies, chickens revolt, and your kid turns 13 all in the same week—welcome to my current reality.

This past week has been one giant, glitter-covered tornado of chaos. And before anyone asks—no, I do not have it all together. I am absolutely running on fumes, caffeine, and the pure adrenaline of incoming Etsy notifications.

Let’s break it down, shall we?

I kicked things off with a celebration of life for a loved one—emotional and heavy, the kind of day that makes you stop and think about what really matters. And what really mattered that day? Remembering someone amazing… and also getting home in time to slap vinyl on a tumbler because your girl’s got deadlines.

From there, the spiral continued:

Orders have been flying in (bless you all), but I’m literally pressing vinyl while yelling “WHO FED THE CHICKENS?!” across the yard. The chicken coop? A mess. One escape artist hen has been auditioning for Chicken Run 3: Backyard Mayhem. The lawn? Jungle. It’s giving Amazon rainforest, minus the cool animals. Dad’s been to physical therapy, and I’m his full-time Uber driver (tips? Nonexistent. Love him though). And just when I thought I had a second to breathe… sizzle-pop-fizz—there goes the hot water tank. Cold showers build character, right? Oh, and because I clearly hate free time and enjoy back pain, I picked up a part-time cleaning job on top of all this. Because why not?

And if that wasn’t enough to make you question my sanity—my youngest turns THIRTEEN this week. 😭

He doesn’t want cake. Doesn’t want a party. Doesn’t even want a gift I can wrap.

Just… Amazon. Gift. Cards.

That’s it. That’s the birthday list. I officially have a teenager and a wish list that screams, “I’m saving up for something weird I won’t tell you about.”

But through all of this—the chaos, the mess, the zero hot water and chickens with attitudes—207 Customs is still doing the damn thing.

Because even when life is feral, I show up.

I show up with a coffee mug that says “Straight Outta Fucks,” a half-top knot, and enough sass to power a Cricut for days. I show up for my customers, my family, my feral little biz, and yes—even the chickens.

So if you’re waiting on a custom tee, tumbler, or Feral Swear Bear drop—I got you. It may come with a chicken feather and a hint of insanity, but it’ll be fabulous.

Thanks for rolling with me through it all. Y’all are the real MVPs.

Now if you’ll excuse me… I have a lawn to mow, a birthday to plan, and a very cold shower to cry in.

🖤 Stay sassy,

207 Customs

#FeralAndThriving #HotMessExpress #SmallBizMama #207Customs #TeenagerIncoming #PoweredByCoffeeAndChaos

Let’s just get right into it:
My youngest has decided school is optional.
Like straight-up rolled out of bed this week, looked at life and said, “Nah.” And what can I do? Drag him to class in his underwear? Threaten to take away his Nintendo? Please. These kids are immune to consequence and fueled by audacity.


Meanwhile, the hot water heater straight-up died four days ago.
No warning. No courtesy sputter. Just a full-blown “screw you, no more hot showers.” Every time I turn the faucet on and hope, I’m hit with the icy reminder that life is out to get me. I think it might just be the element. I’m praying it’s the element. If not, we’re talking $$$ and I’m already broker than a McDonald’s ice cream machine.


I work my ass off, slingin’ tees, tumblers, dog treats, and caffeine-fueled sarcasm. And somehow, every penny I make instantly gets vacuumed into a black hole labeled “teenage nonsense.”
Last-minute fast food runs. Art projects that need “just one more” thing from Walmart.
These kids are money-hungry freeloaders with expensive taste and zero shame.


I’m putting out orders, answering messages, trying to keep the damn chickens alive, and living off boxed mac & cheese while my kid skips school and my shower’s colder than my ex’s heart.


If you’re looking for a silver lining in this post—there isn’t one.
But if you’re broke, boiling water to bathe like it’s 1822, and considering launching your kid into the sun?
You are not alone.


Now excuse me while I go reheat coffee for the third time and manifest a miracle plumber.


#TumblersAndTrashTalk #FeralMomChronicles #TruantAndTraumatized #HotWaterPlease #BrokeAsASoulOnMonday #207Customs

Welcome back to the glitter-fueled, dog-barking, prom-prepping, order-slinging chaos I lovingly call life. If you came here for peace and Pinterest mom vibes, you’re in the wrong damn place. But if you like your blogs with caffeine, cuss words, and questionable parenting moments—buckle up, babe.

Let’s start with 207 Customs. Orders are flying in faster than I can pretend to have my shit together. Tumblers? Flying. Tees? Sassier than my mood after two hours of sleep. Glitter? In places glitter should never be. And if one more person says, “I wish I was that crafty,” I’m gonna craft a custom shirt that says ‘Wish granted—now do it yourself.’

Meanwhile, I’ve become the accidental CEO of my 13-year-old’s pet treat empire: Critter Biscuits. Because apparently, when you birth tiny humans, they eventually start side hustles and drag you in for branding, baking, labeling, shipping, and social media management. Hunter’s been testing recipes like a pint-sized Gordon Ramsay, and our house smells like a pumpkin, peanut butter, and dehydrated fish explosion. You’re welcome, neighbors.

Speaking of neighbors… Oh, honey.

Nothing says fuck around and find out like a noise complaint over my dogs barking… outside… during legal hours… on a farm property. Yes, Karen, they bark. They’re dogs. That’s literally in the job description. They protect my damn chickens, alert me to sketchy noises, and sometimes they just bark to talk shit about you. Don’t like it? Invest in noise-canceling headphones and some business of your own.

As if all that wasn’t enough, we’re in full-blown prom mode for Jonah. We’re tux shopping, shoe hunting, and boutonniere browsing like it’s a red carpet event. He’s got the vibe, I’ve got the receipts, and my bank account has nothing but trauma. Every fitting has me sobbing like I just watched a Sarah McLachlan commercial. My boy’s a whole-ass man now and I am not okay.

And then… there are the chicks.

Not my friends, not my kids—literal baby chickens who are turning my house into a damn dust storm. I sweep, they fluff. I mop, they scratch. They’re cute, they’re loud, and I am counting down the seconds until their fluffy butts are OUTSIDE. Every day they’re inside, I lose one more piece of my sanity and probably a lung to dander.

So yeah. Between running 207 Customs, launching Critter Biscuits, surviving prom prep, battling the Bark Police, and breathing in poultry dust like it’s my side hustle—I’m somewhere between thriving and needs wine in an IV.

But hey—this chaos is mine. And if nothing else, it makes for a damn good blog post.

Thanks for reading my shit show and see you again soon! Bye bye bitches!

AKA: I’m fine. This is fine. Everything is on fire.

Let’s talk about how this week went, shall we?

Started strong. Had coffee, hope, and a to-do list.

Ended with glitter in my bra, vinyl stuck to my elbow, and someone asking me what’s for dinner like I don’t run a damn empire out of my craft room.

207 Customs is rollin’. Orders flying in, DMs popping off, and I’m over here trying to find the heat press under a pile of tees and lost sanity. You ever try weeding decals while a feral child is yelling about Minecraft and the dog’s barking at a squirrel ghost? Add in the fact I’ve had zero sleep and an unhealthy attachment to Red Bull, and that’s the current CEO situation.

Launched new designs. Updated the website. Almost cried trying to take product photos because nothing says “professional brand owner” like screaming “JUST STAY UPRIGHT YOU STUPID TUMBLER” at a rolling cup.

Also, shoutout to the USPS for delivering my package to my neighbor again. I’m sure they’re thrilled to know what “Spitters & Quitters” looks like on a mug.

But through the chaos, the mess, and the fact that my toddler thinks my shirts are napkins—I’m still showing up. Still making magic. Still building this beast one sarcastic sticker at a time.

So if you’ve been stalking something on the site… take this as your sign. Grab it before I have a mental breakdown and rename everything “Oops All Trauma Tees.”

Stay sassy. Stay savage. And for the love of caffeine, stay out of my way when I’ve got a roll of HTV in one hand and a glue gun in the other.

– Andrea, CEO of Chaos @ 207 Customs

Another week down at 207 Customs, and let me tell you — if chaos burned calories, I’d have abs by now.

(Instead, I have an unholy Red Bull addiction and a glitter trail through my house.)

Let’s recap the absolute masterpiece of madness we called “a work week,” shall we?

Monday: Naïve Hopefulness

Started the week with fresh coffee and that stupid little glimmer of hope that this would be the week everything stayed on schedule.

Spoiler alert: by noon, my to-do list was already crying in the corner.

I woke up, caffeinated aggressively, and immediately made questionable life choices. (Including but not limited to trying to epoxy 7 cups, run 3 heat presses, and referee two teenagers fighting about Wi-Fi… simultaneously.)

Tuesday: Heat Press, Who?

Lost an entire heat press.

Gone.

Poof.

Couldn’t find it anywhere and briefly considered it might’ve grown legs and fled the building to live a better life.

Finally located it buried under a crime scene of vinyl scraps, random Amazon boxes, and my abandoned hopes and dreams.

10/10 organizational skills. I should give a TED Talk.

Meanwhile, I was cranking out tumblers and tees like a caffeine-fueled maniac while the kids were busy holding their own WWE match in the living room over who “touched whose keyboard.”

(Seriously. Why are boys like this??)

Wednesday: Website “Updates”

Thought I’d do a quick update on the website.

Ended up knee-deep in code, cussing like a sailor, accidentally deleting a product page, and somehow creating a duplicate FAQ section where all the answers are just “idk bro.”

At one point, I blacked out and when I came to, there was a pizza on the porch and five new downloads pending.

We call that a win around here.

Thursday: Officially Unhinged

By Thursday, I stopped pretending I had any sort of grip on life.

I said “fuck it” about 47 times before noon, and weirdly?

Productivity shot through the damn roof.

The cups were flying off the turner, shirts were getting pressed, decals were stacking up — pure chaos energy was flowing.

Moral of the story: embrace your inner gremlin. It’s good for business.

Friday: Slightly More Feral

Orders packed.

Tumbler drops finalized.

Custom requests answered.

Website sort of functional.

Was I showered? Questionable.

Was I coherent? Barely.

Was I still slinging sarcastic shirts and cups like the spicy little chaos goblin I am?

Abso-freaking-lutely.

Also considered starting a cult where the main activities would be:

Drinking coffee Swearing at technology Glitter-bombing people’s bad attitudes Mandatory naps and Red Bull breaks Matching tumblers and chaotic vibes for all

Enrollment coming soon. Merch will obviously be included.

Saturday-Sunday: Please Hold, My Sanity is Buffering

Weekend plans?

Organize the shop?

Clean the chaos nest?

Get ahead on Monday’s orders?

HAHAHAHAHAHA.

Real weekend highlights included:

Spending 3 hours “organizing” and making an even bigger mess Accidentally hydro dipping myself more than the projects Getting screamed at by a chicken (don’t ask) Eating cereal out of a tumbler because all the dishes were dirty and priorities were made

Self-care, but make it feral

This week was an absolute dumpster fire — and somehow, also one of the best.

That’s just how we roll at 207 Customs.

I’m a little tired, a little chaotic, a lot caffeinated, and still running full speed toward bigger goals… dragging a heat press, a herd of angry teenagers, and a pile of sassy tumblers behind me like a badge of honor.

Thanks for surviving another week with me.

Next week?

We’re doubling the chaos and laughing even harder about it.

Stay savage. Stay spicy. Stay glitter-covered.

#TumblersAndTrashTalk

#207Customs

#ChaosCoordinator

#HotMessExpress

#CraftyAndCaffeinated

#FeralButThriving

#SmallBizBigM