Touring is like childbirth

For those of you not familiar with my former lifestyle, I married a man-who at 19-had a band that was signed and touring.

He met me at the ripe old age of 22, threw me over his shoulder and we kept going.

For the first 5 or so years of our marriage, we criss-crossed the U.S., while he bounced around the stage playing bass guitar and singing, I watched from the side-so proud of my husband.

Touring with his band quickly morphed into driving our friend’s tour buses during our downtime, which then morphed into a career for the both of us.
We were able to spend every waking minute with each other and make decent money-only working 4 months out of the year.

And, we got to stay in really cool hotels-for free.

I mean, really cool hotels-like ones with complimentary white robes and house shoes, Starbucks in the lobby and manager’s receptions.

And hotels where Frank Sinatra, Audrey Hepburn and Carey Grant used to stay.

We saw more of the U.S. than I ever thought possible in one lifetime, let alone a couple of years.

Often, in just a few days’ time, we would go from laid back towns with southern sandy beaches…

…to fall weather and the craziness of New York.

We were invited to a real Louisiana crab boil, complete with Zydeco music.

And we ate at historic restaurants with tortillas the size of a spare tire. (Which subsequently, gives you a spare tire.)

We’ve been fortunate enough to experience things in a weekend-all paid for-that most people save up years to do.

And I got to do this all with my best friend at my side.

However, for all of the perks, a touring lifestyle can be unpredictable.

Would the bus break down today, and if so, how much money will we loose?
Can we make it through this traffic/construction/snowstorm and get to the show on time?
Will the other bands on tour like us?
Will we get to eat today, and if so, is it pizza again?
Am I going to get to sleep in a bed tonight/this afternoon?
Will I drive Biceps crazy singing, “Baby went to Amsterdam, She put a little money into travelin’, now it’s so slow, so slow…” too many times when traffic slows down?
Will we crash and die?
Am I going to encounter any other normal human besides Biceps today? (Probably not.)

But, now that we’re away from touring and into a normal routine of life-getting up at the same time, packing Bicep’s lunches, ironing his “Blues”, being at church every Sunday, cooking dinner every night-I miss the unpredictability of the touring lifestyle.

I miss the sunrises every morning, making breakfast sandwiches on the bus, and having someone else wash my towels and my sheets.

I miss the whirring sound of the bus generator, the early morning coffee time and seeing towns empty out after a huge show.

But, then I think about the slumber party stomach from lack of sleep, blinding snowstorms that scare the crap out of me as I’m driving through New York, and the loneliness of having a flipped schedule from other “day dwellers”.

It’s so easy to forget all the bad stuff, the painful stuff-only bringing to mind all the good stuff. I think touring is a bit like childbirth for me.

How to fight with your spouse (and win)

After almost 12 years of marriage, I’ve learned how to fight to win.

I am not a licensed counselor, nor do I have anything remotely to a psychology degree. In fact, I am the furthest from touchy-feely as you might get, if you are merely looking at my credentials.

I am of German descent, took on the beautiful German language as my minor and majored in International Business. I like repairing old vintage cars, chopping crap up and using my physical strength to demolish lath and plaster.

I was determined to own at least one Fortune 500 company or if nothing else, take over Richard Branson’s Virgin empire.

Snuggling was foreign to me until I married Mr. SnugglesExtremeMan, hugs had to be forced until they were normal and I don’t kiss anyone on the cheek.

All of that said, when we were first married, I had no idea how to properly fight with my husband-other than fighting to win. It was my nature to be right, to protect my rights and to win. I learned very quickly just what “winning” does to a marriage.

It divided us, it alienated us from one another and it caused barriers. When I “won”, or when he “won”, we both lost. I remember once being so angry that I threw a pair of wet jeans at him that I was hanging up to dry.

They plopped onto the bathroom floor about a foot in front of me. He just stood there, open-mouthed, unsure of what to say. I felt like a little girl who had just had a temper tantrum.

It was embarrassing.

Sometimes I could manipulate him with guilt, sometimes I would use a few tears to sway him my way, or maybe I would just bring up all the mistakes he’d made in the past. It seemed to temporarily win the argument-but we both knew what I was doing and the problem was never really solved.

One day, the thought popped into my head that perhaps my way of fighting was inappropriate. After all, Biceps never raised his voice to me. He never reacted to my insanity. He calmly and rationally explained his viewpoint and then waited for me to talk in circles for the next hour, riding the roller coaster of my emotions.

He is a very patient man.

So, I started thinking. Was “winning” the argument really worth it? Did it draw us closer together when I proved that I was right, or did we not talk to each other for the rest of the day?

Were we a “team”, the two of us becoming one like we had promised in our vows-or was it me against him?

After reading this scripture, “…Rejoice! Strive for full restoration, encourage one another, be of one mind, live in peace. And the God of love and peace will be with you.” 2 Corinthians 13:11, I realized during our arguments, there was NO ROOM for God within the mess I had just made.

Ew. Gross. Ick. I stink.

Years later, I have come up with a system to ensure that both Biceps and I “win” when we argue. I (try to) run it through this filter before I approach a subject that is causing our relationship friction:

1. Is what I’m about to say helpful and healthy, or is it hurtful and harmful?
2. Am I reacting to something or have I committed it to prayer first?
3. Am I putting Bicep’s well-being before mine and am I honoring him by wanting this issue resolved or is it just so I can “be heard”?
4. Do I have a solution to the problem that I am bringing to him?

And if I can’t check off these four things confidently from my list, I don’t bring the subject up until I am able to do so.

If I can remember to do this and not attack during the heat of battle, we calmly and rationally discuss the issue at hand. It has single-handedly put a stop to the hour long (or more) fights, the ridiculous Rebekah rants and the non-solution endings to our arguments.

And it draws us closer to each other and closer to God. Pretty simple, but I’m pretty stupid sometimes and have to learn the hard way…

And that’s how we both “win” our arguments with each other.

Christmas is over-what’s next on the list?

Every year, around August, I start thinking about and planning for Christmas. Biceps and I begin discussing that year’s Christmas photo  and I begin gathering costuming and necessary accoutrements.

And, I have a theory about Christmas:

Lists rule, disorganization drools.

List for 2012 Christmas Card Photo:

1. Angel Wings
2. Large Tighty-Whities
3. My “dress”-a white sheet
4. Halo
5. Red Jeans
6. Cape
7. Devil Horns
8. Triton

Totally normal Christmas Photo shoot list for most families, I assume.

And sometime after Thanksgiving, I start scheming for Bicep’s birthday-(also known as my “pre-Christmas”), because he’s a Christmas Eve baby.

List for Bicep’s Birthday:

1. Egg pancakes for Birthday breakfast (Greiman tradition)
2. Some sort of weaponry present
3. Some sort of clothing item present that he will probably return
4. Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting with chocolate ice cream (plus more chocolate options, just in case)
5. Back-up Chocolate

Now, if you know anything about Biceps and I-you know that we are frugal. Christmas is budgeted throughout the year, with a little set aside each month. That way, when present making (or for this year-present buying) comes around, we don’t go into a sticker-shock-induced-coma.

Usual List for homemade presents:

1. 95 Ripe Bananas (boy, do the cashier’s give us a weird look)
2. 8 Bags Pretzel Rods
3. 4 Packages Almond Bark
4. 5 Bags Flour
5. 5 Bags Sugar
6. 3 Jars Molasses
7. 2 Bags Peppermint Candy
8. Etc….

And then there’s the Thank You Note List for Gifts Received (past, present and future):

1. Golden Toilet Lighter from Daniel
2. Self-Adhesive Mustache Pack from Christy
3. Portrait of a Sheriff from Beau
4. Inappropriately Shaped Pine Cone Ornament from Carisa
5. Pooping Penguin from Justin
6. 1966 Ford Mustang from Biceps

But now, the carefully planned out lists have been fulfilled and thrown away. The presents have been unwrapped, the meals have been eaten and the house is silent.

And, it’s time to put all the Christmas cheer back in its appropriate box, wrap it up in tissue paper and store it-once more-up in the attic, until next Christmas.

And I am left with a “Christmas-less” house-until next August when the planning begins again. I don’t have a list anymore. It’s a little disconcerting.

What’s next on your list?

Christmas Card Photo Reveal 2012

I know the internet world has been holding its breath for the 2012 Greiman Christmas Card Photo revelation. If you are unfamiliar with our tradition, Biceps and I create a photographic masterpiece that we share with our friends, families, accountants, pastors and the like.

No one is safe from this awesomeness.

And, if you haven’t seen the last 11 years of our Christmas Card Photo glory, you should probably catch up. It will make your Monday morning.

AND WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE IS THE 2012 GREIMAN CHRISTMAS CARD PHOTO IN ALL OF ITS SPLENDOR:

Nothing says “Merry Christmas” like giving the devil a good, old-fashioned wedgie.

Merry Christmas!