True Story Tuesday is BACK!
Really, it’s all about you! We’ve all got those family legends that crack us up with every retelling, or leave us amazed that we survived something so crazy. And what’s better than sharing those favorites? (Getting comments on them, that’s what :)
If you’ve got something outrageous, amazing, miraculous, hilarious and (mostly) true that has happened to you, just copy the code underneath the True Story Tuesday button on the right sidebar, paste it into your post, then come back and link up for some comment love!
This week brought to you by yours truly. Whose mother just looked at her tonight and said, “oh honey, aren’t you ever going to forgive me for that?” Which of course, made the story even better for y’all!
THE ONE MY MOTHER DOESN’T WANT ME TO BLOG
I grew up with some pretty awesome parents. Let me apologize to my mom in advance for sharing this – but it truly gives me hope that all parents just have those moments…
Once upon a time I got asked out to prom. (Don’t act so shocked y’all).
Growing up in a Christian home, this meant a double date with a curfew. I happily agreed and skipped out in my lovely 1990’s dress.
(Have mercy – it looked better a couple decades ago)
Don’t you love the uni-leg look? And the frizzy hair?
Yeah, the hair. My mom got a wee bit miffed that I’d trashed my curls and let my friend french braid my hair on the way to the dance. But I had to.
Cuz the dude was driving his mom’s brand new Eclipse.
With the window down.
Which really doesn’t have anything to do with the story.
Oh, and that dude? You might recognize Murkatroid from the frosting wars with my sister? Yeah, those two are like the siblings they never had.
Which doesn’t really have anything to do with the story either. But now you know the players…
So we head to the prom, pretend like we know how to dance, then join up with a group to head out for ice cream.
A quick call to the folks to assure them we’d make the midnight curfew and were with a bunch of Seniors at Denny’s (which usually hosts a different type of Senior crowd, no?)
Back in the Eclipse and heading home before I turn into a pumpkin, we are in time to beat the curfew.
My tuxedoed date walks me to the door, where I jam my key in and stare in puzzlement at the door as it refuses to budge.
I quickly realize that my parents have locked the deadbolt.
Which I don’t have a key for.
(Should we knock louder?)
(Should we ring the doorbell?)
Suddenly I start to wonder why my light-sleeper parents are not coming to the door? There’s no way they can’t hear the ruckus at the porch!
So Little Miss Priss heads to the side of the house, and by the light of the Eclipse, finds a rusty oil barrel to roll underneath the garage window.
Oh wait… y’all remember I was in my PROM DRESS and HEELS, right?
I climb atop the oil barrel in those dadgum heels and realize that sliding the window open is gonna be even trickier than I thought. Cuz the darn thing is BROKEN.
As in broken glass.
My parents could be dying of carbon monoxide poisoning inside the house… I gotta get in!
I climb from the RUSTY OIL BARREL, through the BROKEN GLASS, in my PROM DRESS, in my HEELS (on my UNI-LEG, remember?)
Let’s all take a moment to reflect on that act of
stupidity bravery that shall never be repeated.
(I would probably climb on another rusty oil barrel, probably go through broken glass, hopefully wear another size zero dress, but there’s an awesome possibility that I will NEVER wear heels again. Word :)
Anyhoo, I pick my way through the dark garage, arm outstretched, key in the other hand. I crash into several things, and trip repeatedly. I am the loudest kid trying to sneak INTO her house ever.
I find the doorknob and jiggle the key into it.
The door swings open and I am greeted by this:
Well, actually, it was my MOM wielding a flashlight – so it looked more like this:
Except she wasn’t smiling.
And she didn’t have impressive chest hair.
Don’t you love my rocking photo editing skilz?
She sucked in a big gulp of air and slowly relaxed her Come To Jesus Meeting stance.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE?
So she didn’t hear the car come up.
She didn’t hear the key in the front door.
She didn’t hear the knocking.
Or the doorbell ringing.
She didn’t hear the rolling of the oil barrel.
Or the multitude of garage items I knocked over.
But by golly, she heard a key in the garage door and SOMEBODY’S TRYING TO BREAK IN!
I think we both looked at eachother in shock for a moment… until I gained some measure of righteous indignity.
You didn’t wait up?
You locked me out?
You wouldn’t answer the door?
You were gonna hit me with a flashlight?
Mom, I love you. Somehow that story makes me feel a whole lot better about my own parenting adventures :)
And I’m sorry for that picture. But I bet you laughed. And maybe peed a little bit?
And now it’s your turn? Any blogworthy stories that your own childhood has created? Join in below and we’ll be around for some comment love!