13 Signs You Know You're From A Greek Family

13 Signs You Know You're From A Greek Family

It's all Greek to me.
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No one does it better than the Greeks and you can certainly attest to that. We're loud and crazy and there isn't anyone prouder than our ethnicity. Whether you are Greek or not, you are definitely going to want to be after this.

1. You converse in Greek in public to exclude others from hearing.

Since I was little the word akrivós was known to me. One of the best things about being Greek is being able to talk in public without others actually understanding what you are saying -- especially when it comes to avoiding awkward conversations about the cost of things.

2. Your hair is one shade, pure black.

I'm not just talking about the hair on your head either. No matter what you do, your hair will always be more noticeable and darker than everyone else's. You can't hide it -- you could wax it, but at this point you might as well just embrace it.

3. You have many superstitions.

From not clipping your finger nails on Sundays to wearing the evil eye for protection, you have a few superstitions passed down through the family. As silly as they might seem, you obey them like it's another religion.

4. You celebrate New Year's Day more than the average person.

Most Americans look forward to New Years as a time to party and use the excuse of a new beginning to do so. New year, new me, am I right? While the rest of the population is sleeping in and trying to cure a hangover on January 1st, you are in the kitchen getting ready for brunch.

5. It's a huge deal if you get the quarter in Vassilopita on New Years.

No one can quite understand this unless you're Greek. Just like New Orleans has a baby in the King Cake, New Years Day is a competition to get the quarter. Getting the quarter means you will have good luck for the rest of the year. It's all fun and games until you forget to look for it before you eat and take a bite of metal.

6. You have a different Easter than everyone else.

In my family, we celebrate both Greek Easter and regular Easter which makes it all the more interesting. Personally, us Greeks do it better. With dyed red eggs instead of the silly neon colors and going around the table cracking them, it's a day to celebrate Christ's resurrection but also loads of fun. Don't be fooled, there is certainly an element of family competition when it comes to the egg cracking.

7. Desserts galore, need I say more?

Baklava, Kourabiedes, Loukoumades, Koulourakia -- I could go on for days. You always have to be in check of your weight because you consume at least half of it in these sweets.

8. Yiayia is your biggest critic.

From what you look like to what you do, you can count on her input. Forget the devil and angel on your shoulders, you have Yiayia for that. Oh buh boh!

9. You can never find a Happy Grandparent's Day card.

Walking through Hallmark just becomes more monotonous each time. You never find a card for Yiayia and Papou and at this rate you should give up and make your own.

10. You always have someone praying for you.

At this point you don't need to go to church yourself because everyone else has it covered for you. You know you always have God on your side and He is probably a little annoyed with all the prayers being sent for you.

11. Your love interest is a family ordeal.

For all my Greek girls out there, you know any boy you bring home will get the third degree. At this point it;s just better if you keep your love life on the DL because your family will be more interested in him than you are.

12. Everyone in the Greek community knows about your life.

Whether you know the person or not, they definitely know you. Your relatives are the proudest people there are and you'll be surprised that many strangers know more about you than you do yourself.

13. You cannot wait for "My Big Fat Greek Wedding 2" to come out.

This is a big moment. It's not just a usual movie premiere and you cannot wait to be part of the Portokalos life again. Opa!

Cover Image Credit: The Atlantic

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3 Reasons Why Step Dads Are Super Dads

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I often hear a lot of people complaining about their step-parents and wondering why they think that they have any authority over them. Although I know that everyone has different situations, I will be the first to admit that I am beyond blessed to have a step dad. Yep, I said it. My life wouldn't be the same that it is not without him in it. Let me tell you why I think step dads are the greatest things since sliced bread.

1. They will do anything for you, literally.

My stepdad has done any and every thing for me. From when I was little until now. He was and still is my go-to. If I was hungry, he would get me food. If something was broken, he would fix it. If I wanted something, he would normally always find a way to get it. He didn't spoil me (just sometimes), but he would make sure that I was always taken care of.

SEE ALSO: The Thank You That Step-Parents Deserve

2. Life lessons.

Yup, the tough one. My stepdad has taught me things that I would have never figured out on my own. He has stood beside me through every mistake. He has been there to pick me up when I am down. My stepdad is like the book of knowledge: crazy hormonal teenage edition. Boy problems? He would probably make me feel better. He just always seemed to know what to say. I think that the most important lesson that I have learned from my stepdad is: to never give up. My stepdad has been through three cycles of leukemia. He is now in remission, yay!! But, I never heard him complain. I never heard him worry and I never saw him feeling sorry for himself. Through you, I found strength.

3. He loved me as his own.

The big one, the one that may seem impossible to some step parents. My stepdad is not actually my stepdad, but rather my dad. I will never have enough words to explain how grateful I am for this man, which is why I am attempting to write this right now. It takes a special kind of human to love another as if they are their own. There had never been times where I didn't think that my dad wouldn't be there for me. It was like I always knew he would be. He introduces me as his daughter, and he is my dad. I wouldn't have it any other way. You were able to show me what family is.

So, dad... thanks. Thanks for being you. Thanks for being awesome. Thanks for being strong. Thanks for loving me. Thanks for loving my mom. Thanks for giving me a wonderful little sister. Thanks for being someone that I can count on. Thanks for being my dad.

I love you!

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Batter Up

Because someone needed to teach her rotten boyfriend a lesson about how to treat a woman.

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I have this memory from when I was younger,

I must have been six, maybe seven? An age

When you can remember, but not quite

Understand. I remember the landline

Ringing sometime in the middle

Of the night in my grandmother's small,

But adequate house. I had been sleeping,

Tucked under a shield of satin covers,

My grandmother next to me, blanketless,

And stiff, on the very edge of the queen mattress

Like she was anticipating some sort of disaster.

It wasn't the phone that pulled me from my sleep,

It was my grandmother's instant jerk, her eyes

Flipping open quicker than a light switch,

The mattress springing back up, adjusting

To the new lightness as she fled the room. My waking

Was soft like a song. Slow and humane.

My eyes adjusting to the dark, my ears absorbing the ringing,

My mind reminding itself that I was at my grandmother's house.


Then, the ringing stopped;

Abrupt, like a disarmed fire alarm.

It was just a drill, I thought.

But, then I heard the mumbling

From behind the door, panicked mumbling.

Rapid, like gunfire. My grandmother's Rs

Rolling down the hallway and under the door crack.

She only spoke Spanish when she was angry.


The call ended, my grandmother returned to the room,

Wrapped me in a blanket, and carried me into the night.

She buckled me into the backseat of her Toyota and said,

We were going to Auntie Mandy's house because someone

Needed to teach her rotten boyfriend a lesson about how to treat

A woman.


When we arrived at the house, we found the front door

Wide open, the house lights spilling out onto the porch.

A truck, I had seen once before, was parked a foot away

From the front door, aggressive. The truck had trampled

Over the dandelions and daisies, which lay wounded

In the front yard. A scene that begged for investigation.


My grandmother told me to stay put in my seat.

I watched as she walked to the back of the car, her normally pretty

Face turned straight, looked masculine. I watched as she pulled

Something wooden out of her trunk, then in her feline walk,

Approached the house. She turned to me, and I saw the

Baseball bat, immense in her female hands.


I slouched in my seat, the window above my head.

I never saw her go into the house.


I don't remember how long I sat,

Until the red and blue lights came.

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