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...

a reason to celebrate

Hi Granddad-

I'm not entirely sure what the protocol is on tapping into the blog-o-sphere up in heaven.

I'm guessing you get pretty great Spirit World Wi-Fi.

And that makes me think it might be okay.

BUT, if it's not allowed, I'm hoping they'll make an exception.

Just for today.

Because I've been thinking about you. Lots.

And even though you weren't one for tears, I have to admit...my apple fell way far from the tree there.

Like, say the family tree was a Granny Smith growing out on Apple Hill.

My apple'd be the golden delicious lying in some obscure East Coast orchard.

But that's okay.

I actually kind of like it there.

Because when the tears come, it reminds me that I haven't forgotten about you.

Reminds me that having you gone really hasn't changed much at all.

You're still the wisest person I know.

The most humble.

And the bravest.

You're still the leader I look to when I need to learn how to sacrifice.

Or be valiant.

Or have courage.

You're still the example I try to follow when it comes to learning the Gospel.

Loving it.

And living it.

And you're still who I think of when I think of our family.

Because none of us would be here without you.

We're not the most conventional bunch.

We don't have many traditions.

And we're pretty touch-and-go when it comes to communication.

But we love each other.

so. much.

And even though we've all decided to live our lives in our own way and in our own cities,

we're all still incredibly close.

And I'm certain that has everything to do with you.

You've been the rock of our family for as long as I can remember.

And I have to say...

even on those days when I miss you,

or those nights when I wonder if we'll ever be the same with you gone,

I picture you in your chair in Paradise telling me your stories.

And I realize,

you left us a legacy.

And I feel the peace that comes from knowing nothing really changed when you left.

Some small part of you is in each of us,

reminding us to work hard,

to be good people and strong leaders,

to always put our family first,

to show love in our own special way,

and to try and live our lives so we can visit you again

and listen to your stories forever.

I love you Granddad.

so. much.

And I am so grateful for your courage in Korea.

It gave me a reason to celebrate today.

And I can't think of anyone more deserving of a celebration.

Elmer Davis said,

"This nation will remain the land of the free only so long as it is the home of the brave."

Thank you for being brave Granddad.

And thanks for being my Granddad.

(I wouldn't have wished that one on anyone...)

Tomorrow I'll have been married for exactly six months.

We're going back to the place where we said yes to forever.

I wish you could've been there that day.

But I kind of feel like you were.

And every time I go back I feel that way too.

Because you and Grandma said yes to forever there too.

January 6, 1953

I'm so grateful for that day.

It brought me my family.

My forever family.

And I wouldn't trade that for the world.

I love you Granddad.

I'll be thinking about you.

And I'll start trying to do it with a few less tears.

No promises though :)

i'm alive

A couple weekends back Parker decided I needed a small dose of adrenaline.

So he took me mountain biking.

downhill mountain biking.

I'll be honest...

I'm not great.

I'm not even good.

And I'm pretty reckless.

Which makes for a lethal combination.

Luckily my biker's beginner's luck is still in effect.

Or at least I think it is, considering I'm alive and able to tell you all about it.

Parker gave me the big helmet.

And even let me ride the best bike.

I looked legit...

'til I started to pedal.

But you can't see that in the pictures.

My lungs burned on the uphill.

My tummy did too.

I definitely regretted my morning orange juice.

I had a little outburst when Parker promised me

(for the third time)

that the downhill stretch lay "just around the next turn."

But my bitterness subsided when I saw the view.

It was breathtaking (quite literally).

The perfect picture of fall.

Even with the dark clouds lingering in the distance.

(my dinky point-and-shoot camera and this angle don't do it justice...but believe me, it was BEAUTIFUL!)

And as we cruised down Bobsled I finally figured out why my husband so loves this sport.

It's a rush.

I flew through hues of yellow, red, orange,

and even a few green stragglers,

rounding each corner by riding the walls of the trail.

Parker looked nearly parallel to the ground as he made each turn.

I'm guessing I might have too.

The physics of it is still beyond me.

It started to rain on the home stretch.

Mud splashed clear up to my waist as I pedaled through puddles alongside my husband.

But I couldn't have cared less.

I was so happy.

And I could tell he was too.

It's still amazing to me that I've only mingled with the other love in my husband's life a total 4 times in our 20-months together.

Every time we ride I wish I'd been raised around biking like he was.

Wish I had the skills and coordination to keep up and even challenge him.

But as happy as he'd be to have a pro-biker for a wife, I think, sometimes, it's good to have these student/sensei moments.

It teaches me to be teachable.

And teaches him patience.

And we both come out of it even more in love.

It makes me happy.

Thanks for the biking day baby cakes!

Oh and MiKell, I even made his Pinkbike profile. BIG day for us.

It was sweet to see him so proud of me.

He probably spent 2 hours-plus photo-shopping all our pictures.

wonder if he'll get any comments :)

Hope you and Chris have an amazing time in Moab.

Really wishing we could be there...

it's official

I'm in! I'm a DeMille!

The stocking really says it all...

and the fact that my name's embroidered on says even more.

If it were Velcro-ed or even tacked on I'd be a bit more subdued with my celebrating.

But it looks like they're ready and (hopefully) willing to keep me for a good long while.

And why, do you ask, is this stocking so special to me?

Oh where to even begin...

(I've been working on breaking into this elite inner circle for quite awhile).

In late December 2009 I came home to Richfield, UT.

I didn't grow up there...

didn't have family to visit....

didn't have any real ties to the little town.

But I did have a boy.

A boy I knew I wanted to marry.

And this boy had a family.

A family I loved almost as much as I loved the boy.

And this family was a pretty big deal in this little town.

Despite their humble claims to the contrary.

Everyone I met told me what a lucky girl I was to be dating the boy...

...and how very lucky I'd be to be a part of the family.

I'd smile and laugh and say,

"Oh we'll see!"

Then try to keep from wondering how much longer it might be before the "We'll see!" became a

"Yes indeed! I am that lucky girl

...I even have the ring."

So I waited and tried my best not to think too far ahead.

And it worked...for awhile.

But because this family from this little town was not-so-little at all,

at Christmastime you'd see 8 stockings swinging sweetly from the fireplace mantle.

The first read Mom & Dad.

The second, Lara & Kirk.

The third, Chris & MiKell.

The fourth, David & Alison.

The fifth, Carson & Ashley.

The sixth, Michael.

The seventh, Parker.

And the eighth, Kaitlin.

The longer I admired the spread of stockings, the more my mind wandered,

wondering what it might be like

to share that lucky number 7 sock.

Parker & Chelsey

I wanted it more than anything.

...wanted my name stitched next to his.

...wanted to come home to this home away from home year after year just to see it.

...to spend time with this not-so-little family I'd so come to love.

...to share a stocking with him for the rest of my life.

He proposed that next day.

I said yes, of course.

But the stocking's stitches stayed the same

...we hadn't sealed the deal just yet.

So when I spotted our stocking swinging from the family room fireplace this weekend,

I had to smile.

I'm in. I'm a DeMille.

And now this is home to me too.

Thank you Kristy for that sweet reminder and for taking the time to teach me all about my new home.

I loved hearing its history.

And I cannot wait to see what a hit it will be at this year's home show.

Anyone in the area hoping to see my so-loved stocking in person, here's your chance.

My in-laws have generously opened their home to the public for Richfield's annual Christmas Home Show this December 3rd & 4th.

All proceeds go to the Battered Women's Shelter.

So it's for a good cause.

And you can bet Kristy, our ever-creative queen-of-crafting, will have

435 Pahvant Dr. looking like a winter wonderland.

Happy almost holidays everyone!

I'm looking forward to finishing out 2010 with a bang!

And no, that bang will not be the sound of my mind, or grades, spontaneously combusting.

I hope...

sillies

I have a question for my in-laws...

Who is this boy asleep in my bed???

Because I'm having serious doubts that he is the same man I married...unless the Parker you and I both know and love truly is this little clown sleeping peacefully beside me.

And thank goodness he's asleep. My abs couldn't have handled one more giggle!

(And yes, I do have abs...).

That's beside the point.

ANYWAY

What I'm really wondering is...

is this one of those things everyone knew about but me?

has he always been this funny?

or is this silliness some rare side effect of marriage (or, more specifically...marriage to me)?

Please don't misunderstand...I LOVE my silly goose. He's the best part of my day!

I'm just curious as to what the root cause of his condition might be.

Because I'm thinking he has a serious case of the sillies.

Noted symptoms:

I'll let our 3 most recent incidents demonstrate.

1. I'm talking. Parker's not really listening.

"Uh huh. Uh huh,"

he mumbles as I fly from one idea to the next.

He starts to catch a rhythm.

And...before I know it...he interrupts me completely, breaking out into song.

"Ba bada ba. da. uh huh. uh huh. Ba bada ba. da.

uh huh. uh huh."

(to the tune of Bad to the Bone)

He so amuses himself. And as angry as I tried to be about his poor listening, I couldn't help but laugh.

2. Parker's looking over his shoulder, talking to me as he stands in the doorway of our bedroom.

He's in his cuddle bug sweats

and has the cutest little bum.

"hey...eyes up here."

He takes two fingers and points to his eyes.

I break down into hysterics.

Apparently I'm easily distracted.

3. I'm not sure I can call this a single incident as it occurs so frequently in our household.

It's not a song lyric. It's not even a silly phrase. It's complete jibberish.

And he says it all. the. time.

"bishie, boshie, booshie, boo."

all the time!

and somehow he came up with the idea that I started it.

which I did not.

So I'd say that's enough to make a make a fairly accurate diagnosis.

struck with sillies?

loving life?

or just letting out the silly boy he's always been?

I have not the slightest idea.

I'll leave it up to you to spell it all out for me (really... I want answers).

In the meantime, I'll just be living, laughing, and loving life with my silly husband.

Lov-a my baby.