christmas.

As you can imagine, Christmas at my house is a blur of chaos. The whole family comes into town to live in one house like we did when we were children, and I can say with confidence that not much has changed. The drama, the fighting, and the inferiority complexes are still in full swing, as expected. However, only one time did my mom say to me "your attitude needs to change, missy!", which is a success story in itself.

For some reason unbeknownst to me, Laura has a fascination with anything that has to do with Christmas (i.e. decorations, fake Santas, candy canes, reindeer, icicles, you name it). But most of all, she is OBSESSED with Christmas lights. And by obsessed I mean she googles which neighborhoods in the greater Houston area have the "coolest lights!" and drags her 6 unwilling, complaining children to aforementioned random neighborhoods. Every year, wIthout fail, someone complains a little too hard and my mom blows up on us with the whole "I only ask for one thing for Christmas and it's to look at Christmas lights with my family wahhh wahhh" spiel and eventually we all give in and allow her to act like a 6-year-old in Toys 'R Us. This year was no exception.
We drove to downtown Houston, looked at lights where mom literally screamed "WOW!!!!" or "OH MY GAWWWD!!!" every 10 seconds, and after about an hour of such shenanigans we felt we had provided her with enough joy to last until next December and decided to head home.
But then our car overheated and broke down. At a gas station. In the middle of the ghetto.
Naturally, we packed 9 people in a car that fits 7, and as we all piled out, someone drove by and screamed "Hey Mexicans, get a bigger f***ing car!!" God Bless Texas.

Another highlight of Christmas would have to be my mom playing wii kinnect, dance edition. There's nothing like watching a 52-year-old woman "crank dat Soulja Boi" for over two hours. I can never hear that song again without the vision of her out-of-tempo attempts to lean wit it / rock wit it. Therapy please?

Happy Holidays!

embarrassing parents

We've all been embarrassed by our parents at one point or another, it's natural. You know what I'm talking about... the dropping you off at the movies and yelling "I love you, sweetie!" with the windows down in front of your friends or the over-enthusiastic soccer mom running down the sideline with you as you attempt to score a goal. Little things like that. But, unfortunately, my parents take public humiliation a few (million) steps further. Honestly, if there was a "You Are The Single Most Embarrassing Set of Parents A Kid Could Have" Award, they would win it, hands down, kick your parents' ass.

To understand the humiliation my five siblings and I go through EVERY DAY of our lives, you'll have to know a little somethin' somethin' about my mother. Prepare yourselves.

Meet Laura. The first word that comes to mind when I think of her? PSYCHO. She's psychotic. Like, for real. Love you to death but you're actually insane.
For one, she refers to herself as "Mamarazzi." This is because she is a dictionary of useless celebrity gossip due to the fact that she reads Us Weekly and perezhilton.com. Does she own a pair of teal & pink sneakers with 'Mamarazzi' written on the side? You bet your ass she does. "OH MY GOD, KARA, DID YOU HEAR ABOUT MILEY CYRUS AND NICK JONAS?!" No, Mom, and for the love of God listen to yourself.

Other fun facts: My mother is super loud, outrageous, thinks she's 25, listens to Ke$ha, always calls me to tell me what's "in style", and I'm pretty sure my friends like her better than me. No big deal.
She is constantly on a quest to embarrass her six children. Whether that be by submitting a yearbook ad of my brother in a Snow White costume or working as the "Crossing guard lady" (bright orange vest included) at my elementary school, she has a 100 percent success rate when it come to humiliation. I mean it; NOBODY can mortify their kids better than my mom.

(Lucky me.)

My dad, on the other hand, is embarrassing in a different way. I remember he tried to make me a long jump champion when I was on my middle school track team. He would show up to track practice every morning, and after a while just pronounced himself "Long Jump Coach." I'm pretty sure that's illegal. But it happened. Thanks for the help, Dad, I got last at County Championships.
Dad also likes to drink. And he gets very sweaty. Let us not forget Memorial Day 2009, drunk, sweaty dad on stage singing "Twist and Shout" with a Beatles Impersonation Band. And yes, he nailed the high notes.

I'd have to say that my most embarrassing memory occurred on my 18th birthday. The day started off normally; woke up, opened a present or two, ate some breakfast and went to school. It wasn't until after second period that I noticed some people shooting me strange looks and smiles in the hallway. Chalking it up to "people are weird", I didn't think anything of it... until i noticed that everyone was wearing something on their shirt. I caught up to a friend of mine and turned her around. Sure enough, the entire senior class was wearing a large circular pin with a picture of me in a cowboy hat that read "I'm 18 today!" Ironic, because I could feel myself turn 18 shades of red. But not only that, my mother had hung up poster board collages of me in my DIAPERS all over the school. It's kind of an uncomfortable feeling knowing that strangers are wearing your face on their shirts and viewing your 2-year-old nipples. I don't recommend it.

The pins + the posters + my mom showing up at lunch with balloons and a cake and making the entire cafeteria sing me Happy Birthday = QUITE a memorable day.

Kevin, Kelsey, Kylie, Kassidy, Kendall and I have lived through so many mortifying experiences like this first hand. Many of them have made us want to kill ourselves (or our mom). But I have to admit, Laura is an evil genius.

Will I put my own kids through this insensitive form of torture that has scarred me for life, you ask? HELL. YES.

family etiquette

I grew up with four sisters and one brother, and it was absolutely ridiculous. Kevin, Kara, Kelsey, Kylie, Kassidy, and Kendall. It's pretty confusing with all the K's, and I'm about 80 percent sure my dad still does not know all of our names.

I suppose the fact that we had to set the table for eight every night meant that the budget was a bit tight. We had to share EVERYTHING. I distinctly remember going through the McDonald's driveway for dinner at least twice a week. My mom would order all of us our own burger and fries, and ONE drink. What, Mom? ONE DRINK? That solitary 20 oz. Coke circulated through our massive red van from kid to kid until each of us were sucking on ice cubes. Everyone would try to take the biggest gulp of soda possible, in an attempt to maximize fluid intake. "STOP HOGGING IT, IDIOT!" was a common verbal exchange. But without fail, if you had the last sip, no matter how small that last sip was, YOU were accused of "drinking all of it". Good times.

Anyone who has ever had the pleasure of joining us for a family dinner knows that they better eat their food fast, because once the five minute mark is up, your plate is fair game. We're not afraid to jack your corn on the cob when you're not looking. Consider yourself warned, America.

A fine example of our family etiquette occurred last Christmas when I brought my boyfriend down to Texas with me. He asked my 14-year-old sister to please pass the chicken. She picked it up with her bare hands and dropped it on his plate. Somehow, he is still dating me.

I've become accustomed to the crazy my family unleashes on a daily basis, and I wouldn't change it for the world.

Cook Family Chronicles

My name is Kara and my family is crazy. Here are some stories.