behind closed doors

I'd like to think that all outsiders see our marriage as the perfect picture of happiness and propriety.

Outside of our occasional spats at the hand-and-foot table (which are almost always the work our ultra-competitive inner monsters), I think we do relatively well with this.

We're artists when it comes to painting our public image.

But because I most respect those blogs that are all about honesty, I am going to be decidedly honest with this.

We're not perfect.

In fact, if you had hidden camera footage of our household's last 20 minutes, you'd be shocked.

Screaming, slapping, and slamming doors.

Bumps, bruises, and bedding strewn about the room.

Empty promises, hot tempers, and eyes full of tears...

...tears of laughter.

Parker'd decided to take a quick study break. He plopped down on the bed next to me, his baby blues fixed on my stone-grey irises. As sweet as he tried to make his stare I could feel it commanding my attention. So I set my computer aside and turned toward him.

"Hi honey..."

He wrapped his arms around me, bringing me close. I rested my head on his strong shoulder, in the little pocket divinely designed for this perfect fit, and smiled up at him. He tilted his head, ever so slightly, and closed his eyes. My heart fluttered at the certainty of the sweet kiss coming my way. I closed my eyes, waiting for him to close the gap.

And he did.

Gave me a big wet one

right on the nose.

I stared at him wide-eyed as he gave his Scooby Doo giggle and gasped.

"You didn't..."

And then all hell broke loose.

I pounced on top of him.

He straight-armed me, sending me sprawling onto the floor.

He jumped off the bed, trying to make a break for it.

I caught him mid-air and he crumpled on top of me.

I capitalized on his disorientation and retaliated.

Then I called a truce.

He refused (of course) so we battled on, running into the front room.

I screamed and squealed as he cornered me on the couch, slapping at his hands before he could get me in his vice-like grip.

Instead of pinning me he slapped my bum and then my face, laughing at my weak attempts to return the favor.

Finally I gave him a good karate kick to the rear and made another run for it.

He chased me back to the bedroom in a fury, tackling me onto the bed.

I tried to wriggle my way to the top but he overpowered me, forcing me onto my back.

I writhed back and forth to keep my nose out of tongue's reach, occasionally sneaking in a snake-like strike.

I think I even tried to bite him.

He called me a savage (and later Gremlin for my growls), licked me two times more to teach me a lesson, then trotted off to open the front door to air out our sauna of an apartment.

I made my way into the kitchen feeling a bit defeated and asked him if we could be done.

"You're surrendering?" he asked.

"No. I'm calling a truce. You're not worth the effort."

"You just know you can't win..."

I rolled my eyes as we gave a tentative hug to seal the deal.

He eyed me suspiciously as I went to kiss him.

"Chels..."

"Baby, come on. We called a truce.

Time to kiss and make up."

He gave me one more questioning glance, then relaxed, closed his eyes, and leaned in for the kiss.

That's when I made the kill.

And destroyed any ounce of trust he had in me.

As he tried to fight back I begged for him to let me win for once.

He stopped fighting, but definitely did not agree.

So I'm keeping a close eye on him.

"I'm going to get you when you least suspect it."

Those were his final words.

But I'm not too scared.

I'm too happy about having the upper hand.

Go Sunday night wrestle-mania!

Like I said...

you never would have guessed what goes on behind closed doors.

(keep in mind that, as violent as this all sounds, we are in hysterics the whole time.

i.e. the tears of laughter

it's so absolutely ridiculous.

that's the reason we both love it.)

And because I'm all about honesty and openness here,

here are this week's top 5 funnies.

1. Parker crawls into the bedroom to try and scare me.

I eye him warily as I watch his faux-hawk bobbing up and down like a shark's fin.

When I realize he's trying to accomplish some sort of stealth mission I lose it.

Now I call him my sneaky "shork."

2. Parker's addicted to the generic brand cookie crisp from Smith's.

He has it with milk every morning for breakfast.

I have a way of waking up whenever he's right in the middle of this ritual.

That means, when I go out to give him a good morning kiss, I'm welcomed by milky morning breath.

Lately I've been particularly sensitive to the milky scent (I'm no fan of cow juice).

So I've also started calling him my "stinky baby."

He loves it.

(Parker: I do not! Take that off.

Chelsey: Oh sweetie, you do. You totally do.

Parker: ok, maybe a little.

i knew it.)

3. Parker's discovered how to make me look like a puppet.

He lies on his back, laces his hands around my underarms, and then holds me so my hands are just an inch away from his face.

I try and swat him in vain and end up looking like a

simple-minded, slap-happy stick figure

(because they don't have elbows that bend either).

It's really not that funny.

But then it totally is.

Silly boy.

4. Parker has a way of sneaking up on me all. the. time.

I about jump out of my skin every time.

So I've been trying to find ways to return the favor.

I'm not sure how I came up with it, but somewhere along the line I decided to spring for an ambush strategy.

I'd wait for him to finish his shower, let him see me working busily on the couch when he passed through the hallway, then abandon my things, silently sneak up behind him as soon as he has his back to me, and tackle him to the bed.

Well, when I moved to put my plan into action this week, it backfired.

I had it right up until the last step.

As I prepared to pounce on him he whirled around, whipped his arms around my waist, and flung me into a pile of pillows.

I started. And screamed. And totally failed my mission.

But, in the process, I started our first tradition.

I swear this happens every time we're changing now.

And it's funny every. time.

5. It snowed Monday.

Sticky snow.

And I, of course, did not know this.

So I waddled out to my car with a whole 3 minutes to go 'til work.

Fantastic.

I decided I would be lazy and use my windshield wipers to clean off the front.

I thought that'd be enough to see,

but as I tried to look in my mirrors to check for oncoming traffic I realized my driver's side window was covered too.

And I again opted for the lazy way out.

I would roll my window halfway down and scrape the snow off with my hand.

Great idea.

Very efficient.

Well, I pushed that window button,

waited for it to reach the halfway point,

then quickly released it.

But it kept going.

And going.

And soon that wall of snow that had lined it lay in my lap.

And I realized, as I tried to sweep the snow onto the floor before the cold seeped into my undies,

I'd hit "auto."

Some days I wonder how I even manage to walk and chew gum at the same time.

I walk the fine line between birdbrain and genius on a regular basis.

But Parker loves me for it.

so i guess we're good :)

Happy Sunday!

Counting down the days 'til Thanksgiving now...