Every family has those stories that they love to dust off to get a laugh during the holidays or family reunions. With my family being as big as it is there is no shortage of embarrassing stories or family mysteries. One of my Dad’s favorite story to tell about me from when I was about 17 years old.

I’ve mentioned a few million times that I have a large family, 4 sisters & 3 brothers. Even though the boys are younger than I am I’m constantly terrorized, even now that 3 of us are adults. But that’s a brother for you. There is something about brothers where they think they are automatically entitled to anything and everything even if it isn’t theirs. I had one brother who ate all but 3 of our wedding cake samples from Duff Goldman. The box was clearly marked with “We will be sharing this for dessert DO NOT EAT.” but he ate it anyway & even told us which flavors to steer clear of.

But the family story in question is the time I thought my brothers robbed me.

We were living in Maryland and had been only for a few months. The part of Maryland we lived in was run over with deer. If you were up early enough in the morning you could see at least 20 of them running down the street. It was kind of magical. One early fall morning I made my way to beloved Honda Civic to head to work. When I got to my car I saw that my glove compartment had been rifled through and all of my change in my change compartment was gone.

I was so confused trying to figure out what was going on & who had gone in my car, when suddenly it hit. “The Boys!” I ran into the house & rounded up my brothers “Give me all my money back now!” granted it wasn’t a lot of money but it certainly came in handy when I spent my entire paycheck at the mall {ahhh. The good ole days} “We didn’t take your money we swear Alex.” I was perplexed. “You didn’t take it? Are you being honest?” the assured me they had. And that’s when it hit me. The boys hadn’t taken my money, the deer had*!

Yes. I had deduced that on the way down the hill that morning the deer had made a pit stop to grab my change. Why I thought this I have no idea, but I did. And I really believed it until I started telling my Dad over dinner. When everyone started laughing at me & asking how the deer would have opened the door I realized that I might be wrong. But stranger things have happened in the world, like Snooki having a baby. Anything is possible. 

The moral of this story? Deer don’t play**

*This story is entirely true. I honestly believed this.

**This is a hilarious video to back up my theory that deer don’t play, BUT the language is not safe for work & is a tad graphic.

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This story about thieving deer was brought to you by the folks over at Simplisafe. Don’t want to be robbed by deers? These guys can help you with all your home security needs & get you set up with a home security systems & wireless security system. 

via pinterest 

I am only a little bit ashamed to say that the episode of Modern Family from last week where Lily drops the F bombs has happened in my own house a few gazillion times. It is completely my/our fault as we/I {but mostly me} cuss like Bible school students who have been more or less kicked out of a g<odly establishment, possibly because that is exactly what I am. I’m like an Amish kid on rumspringa. 

The first few times Phoenix dropped a few choice words I cringed, the other times I cringed & scolded him but secretly smiled when he used them all in the right context. That has to count for something right?

Maybe it has gotten a little out of control & he’s aching for his turn on Jersey Shore or Jerry Springer & maybe we really need to cut down on someone swearing, be it the child or the parent.

But for now I think I’m raising a little irreverent bad ass & that might be a good thing.

1. “Mommy drop your weapon & get on the floor!” – Clearly he’s destined for a role in law enforcement & that makes me beam with pride. Also there may or may not have been a time he told me he was going to shoot me in the head if I didn’t let him do something. But everyone has a lapse in judgment right?

2. Colorful language as described above- Do I really need to say it? This kids vocabulary will certainly having him score in the Harvard range on the SAT.

3 “Mommy I just don’t care what you say!” – He’s not a follower. So when your kid wants to hand him an ounce pound kilo of coke he ain’t going to take it.

4. Said in the most sarcastic tone “Whatever you say Mommy.”- He’s going to be a good husband don’t you think?

5. Lying. “It makes my baby happy if you clean up for me”- Do I smell a novelist?

6. “Mommy go to Maryland” obvs loosely translated means “Go to hell Mommy”- He has a love for geography & travel. 

7. Me: “Phoenix you are being a whiny baby” Phoenix “No you are!”- Fairness & equality for all. 

So the next time you want to kick yourself for some bad kid behavior, find that silver lining. It’s there people. It really is.

What is the worst behavior your kid displays that they picked up from you?

But all joking aside this kid has a serious case of empathy. Last night while his Dad was out of town & I came down with a case of the morning evening fuck me all day sickness he came into the bathroom started rubbing my back & said “I’m going to help you Mommy! I’m going to take care of your baby. Just bare down!” Through my barf colored hazed I melted.

I tell you a lot about my life today. Who I am as a mother. What makes me me. What kind of wife I am. What I wear. What I eat and Where I’m going.

But it occurred to me last week while reading this post from Roo over at Nice Girl Notes that there are so many things you don’t know about me before all of this.

So this week I want you to take my hand as we stroll down memory lane.

The year was 1999.

I was short & skinny & very hairy. My friends knew this and that’s why we made a little detour to my families apartment (my parents were building a house & all 8 of us lived in a 2 bedroom apartment for like 6 months.) before a night of movie watching & sleepover antics.

I remember walking into our apartment & begging my mom to let me shave my legs. My friend & her sister (who were 3 & 4 years older than me) agreed to be my leg shaving gurus.

My mother agreed.

After leaving we stopped off & rented a movie from Blockbuster (Woooow. Flashback. Can you believe there are no more Blockbusters?) picked up sandwiches from Subway & flirted with witnessed to the cute lost souls behind the counter and went back to my friend’s house.

Long story short. I shaved my legs. And cut my knee really, really bad. So bad that we tied headbands around my knee to stop the bleeding.

But here’s where the story gets interesting.

When my mother told me I could shave my legs I assumed she meant that I was now a card carrying member of the leg shaving community.

So imagine my surprise when just 2 months later I get ripped a new one for shaving.

But lets back up a moment.

So I ripped my knee open. But still continued to shave. Any stolen moment I could I’d get rid of all the over grown Greek hairy heritage.

And one weekend our church had a women’s retreat. And they are just as you imagined.

Us all sitting around in our underwear singing hymns to June Cleaver.

I wasn’t quite old enough to take part in these particular festivities but my sister & I went along as the babysitters for my best friends little sister.

Friday night all the women come back with their arms full of delicious meatloaf & pot roast recipes and the teenagers decided to go swimming.

I put on my bikini (God. There was a time I was wearing a bikini) and I hopped in the tub with my BFF to start shaving my legs, because it just so happened that, that morning I hadn’t tamed the wild forest.

My leg is clad in foam & my Gillette is poised above my leg in walks my mother and I swear like 90 other women.

I got ripped out of the bathtub, embarrassed in front of everyone and had to go home the next day.

All for shaving my legs, which according to her. She never gave me permission to do.

The lucky featured commenter this week is Lynda Giddens of Daily Window. Lynda is an aspiring and inspiring writer & photographer. She also has some great photography tips that I’ve bookmarked for whenever I get my hand on a DSLR. Make sure you stop by & wave

In case you haven’t figured out yet how much of a huge fucking dweeb I am I would like to recount to you the most recent badge I acquired.

So last month Shawn and I are in LA having a great time meeting the Jo Bro’s, driving in a Lexus drop top, and hitting the fabric district. It was the honeymoon we never, ever had.

On the day we are supposed to come home everything is going smoothly. We get to LAX like 2 hours before our flight, tasted Pinkberry for the first time (hello heaven!) and laughed and joked the whole time. But by the time we reached Charlotte, NC for our connecting flight we were completely burnt out and I think in the need of some distance between the two us.

On the plane we kind of start bickering back and forth over what? I honestly couldn’t tell you. But it was a tiny & cold plane so we basically just tried to ignore each other for the hour or so flight.

That day I wore this super cute strapless dress from Tart that I got from Ideeli or maybe Hautelook, or maybe even Gilt I don’t quite remember but you should click these links and buy stuff anyway (I get a nice kickback if you do) and of course this dress required me to wear an awfully uncomfortable strapless bra. So on the plane ride from LA to NC I decided to whip that little puppy off. I stuff it in the bottom of my big bag of fabric and told my husband to keep his eye on it.

Fighting, bickering, and picking on the flight home.

That’s what we did. When we land we start bickering again and in frustration I jump up as soon as we land to get off the plane. When I do I bang my head on the top of the plane and was so embarrassed and annoyed that I grabbed my bags and walked off.

Standing outside on the tarmac (some weird express plane that didn’t even pull up at the little accordion gate skywalk) I’m thinking “Oooo Shawn really burns my M-ther F-ing biscuits.” when he starts walking down the stairs I fix my attitude because I’m really not in the mood for round 110 that night.

But as soon as he reaches me I turn around to start walking into the airport and  I hear someone yelling “Hey! Hey! Your forgot something!”

When I hear this voice something tells me to just keep walking. But being nosy…I turn around.

Standing on the steps is the tall blonde-Matthew McConaughey-surfer type Dad who sat behind us.

And in his hands is my DD flesh colored strapless bra. A bra that has not been washed in a while and is so old it has those fabric balls on it, the boning is popping out of one side and a breast milk stain from my sisters wedding that won’t come out on the other.

In this mans hand is that bra.

When I see this I think “You have got to be fucking kidding me right?” but I don’t immediately do anything because right to my left is a Dad with his two teenage sons and they are looking right at me. I figured if I don’t respond it’ll just make this guy look like a crazy freak right?

But no.

My husband. The very one who should have been protecting this enormous bra saunters over to the man to collect it.

I just start walking inside and trying to laugh it off and I kind of start bitching my husband out .

The entire time I am like literally trying to run to make it to baggage claim so I don’t have to talk to anyone else. But I am immediately stopped when my husband says “Well, I saw it on the ground, but left it because I was mad at you”

I whip around and go “WHHHHH  AAAAAA TTTTTTT?!”

Do you know what he says to me? “Um, you’re embarrassing me. Please lower your voice?”

Again I shout “W HHHHHHH AAAAAA TTTTTT?! You purposely leave my gigantic bra on a plane and you want me to lower my fucking voice?”

I literally could have died. Seriously. I steamed for days after this.

But needless to say we leave on the 9th for LA and I WON’T be wearing a strapless bra this time.

Linked up at Mama Kat’s Writers Workshop.

Also linked up is yesterday’s vlog, my open letter to Paris Hilton.

In case you haven’t figured out yet how much of a huge fucking dweeb I am I would like to recount to you the most recent badge I acquired.

So last month Shawn and I are in LA having a great time meeting the Jo Bro’s, driving in a Lexus drop top, and hitting the fabric district. It was the honeymoon we never, ever had.

On the day we are supposed to come home everything is going smoothly. We get to LAX like 2 hours before our flight, tasted Pinkberry for the first time (hello heaven!) and laughed and joked the whole time. But by the time we reached Charlotte, NC for our connecting flight we were completely burnt out and I think in the need of some distance between the two us.

On the plane we kind of start bickering back and forth over what? I honestly couldn’t tell you. But it was a tiny & cold plane so we basically just tried to ignore each other for the hour or so flight.

That day I wore this super cute strapless dress from Tart that I got from Ideeli or maybe Hautelook, or maybe even Gilt I don’t quite remember but you should click these links and buy stuff anyway (I get a nice kickback if you do) and of course this dress required me to wear an awfully uncomfortable strapless bra. So on the plane ride from LA to NC I decided to whip that little puppy off. I stuff it in the bottom of my big bag of fabric and told my husband to keep his eye on it.

Fighting, bickering, and picking on the flight home.

That’s what we did. When we land we start bickering again and in frustration I jump up as soon as we land to get off the plane. When I do I bang my head on the top of the plane and was so embarrassed and annoyed that I grabbed my bags and walked off.

Standing outside on the tarmac (some weird express plane that didn’t even pull up at the little accordion gate skywalk) I’m thinking “Oooo Shawn really burns my M-ther F-ing biscuits.” when he starts walking down the stairs I fix my attitude because I’m really not in the mood for round 110 that night.

But as soon as he reaches me I turn around to start walking into the airport and  I hear someone yelling “Hey! Hey! Your forgot something!”

When I hear this voice something tells me to just keep walking. But being nosy…I turn around.

Standing on the steps is the tall blonde-Matthew McConaughey-surfer type Dad who sat behind us.

And in his hands is my DD flesh colored strapless bra. A bra that has not been washed in a while and is so old it has those fabric balls on it, the boning is popping out of one side and a breast milk stain from my sisters wedding that won’t come out on the other.

In this mans hand is that bra.

When I see this I think “You have got to be fucking kidding me right?” but I don’t immediately do anything because right to my left is a Dad with his two teenage sons and they are looking right at me. I figured if I don’t respond it’ll just make this guy look like a crazy freak right?

But no.

My husband. The very one who should have been protecting this enormous bra saunters over to the man to collect it.

I just start walking inside and trying to laugh it off and I kind of start bitching my husband out .

The entire time I am like literally trying to run to make it to baggage claim so I don’t have to talk to anyone else. But I am immediately stopped when my husband says “Well, I saw it on the ground, but left it because I was mad at you”

I whip around and go “WHHHHH  AAAAAA TTTTTTT?!”

Do you know what he says to me? “Um, you’re embarrassing me. Please lower your voice?”

Again I shout “W HHHHHHH AAAAAA TTTTTT?! You purposely leave my gigantic bra on a plane and you want me to lower my fucking voice?”

I literally could have died. Seriously. I steamed for days after this.

But needless to say we leave on the 9th for LA and I WON’T be wearing a strapless bra this time.

Linked up at Mama Kat’s Writers Workshop.

Also linked up is yesterday’s vlog, my open letter to Paris Hilton.