Long Live the Crazies!!!

First of all I'd like to thank the Denver International Airport for the free wi-fi, without which, I would not, at this very moment, be able to tell you about the flight I literally just walked off of.

United Flight 156.

Albuquerque to Denver.

Just when I thought all the funny had left my life...

The lady next to me strapped Tigger into the empty seat between us.

Then, she used hand motions and verbal reinforcement to teach him the safety rules.

I was so stunned at first I couldn't even laugh. But then, I had laughter steaming out of my ears and trying to come out of my eyeballs. I have not been this tickled in a long, long time.

She whispered things to Tigger the whole flight.

And she talked to her husband, in the seat directly behind her, the whole flight.

And she smacked her gum... the kind of smacking you would do if you'd possibly like to lose a tooth or if you'd like the pilot to hear you or if you believe your smacking, might, in some small way help the plane stay in the air... she did that kind of gum smacking the entire trip.

So did her husband.

And when his ginger ale came out... he slurped. The kind of loud, prolonged slurping sound that an Ogre or hairy bushy mountain man makes after he's sucked down rabbit-feet stew. He slurps and slurps. And now I'm trying to get secret pictures of Tigger and audio of the slurping so that the rest of the world can know that these people were real....

and then he belches.

The nastiest belch I've ever heard.

And I have never had to laugh so bad in my whole life.

I'm biting my lips and trying to take deep breaths, the kind you take after a bad contraction when you have just tried to push a small, slimy head out of your body... I was taking those kinds of breaths and I was trying to think of something sad. Anything sad.

I was trying to focus on the horrible smell that seemed to be lingering in my part of the plane.

Trying to think of my third grade birthday party where no one showed up except the next door neighbor who gave me a used Barbie doll with lice and caused me to have to take baths with my sisters for months while mom and dad tried to get critters out of our heads.

I tried thinking of that.

Death. I can almost always think of a good funeral... so I tried to think about death... and it was starting to work but just as I got my laughter under control and zipped up tight in my mouth, the old man behind me (the slurper's seat mate) who had literally been singing "da-da-da-dee-dee" in a grumbly low voice for the entire flight said,

"Well, now that we're in the air, I'll need to get my bag out. My wife packed a fresh meatloaf sandwich for me and my tongue is excited!"

I lost it.

Shoulders uncontrollably shaking. Legs bouncing. Hands hitting my knees. I could not control myself any longer. I buried my head in my lap and died laughing.

The lady next to me leaned over and began whispering to Tigger.

Up until this point I did not realize that he was a Native American Tigger wrapped in a traditional headdress and outfit, but I was at eye level with him now, and realized he was wearing a small backpack and traditional Native American garb.

And, let's not forget, he is STRAPPED INTO THE SEAT BELT.

Wow.

I felt like I was trapped on a flight that would end up being a Stephen King movie. If the universe were to suck up a plane and keep it frozen in time to commemorate the weirdness of humanity... this was the flight. I was on it. And I was surrounded by the three biggest nut balls I've ever experienced in my life.

The flight was only 50 minutes long.

The old man ate his meatloaf sandwich, and on the way out, the teenager two seats in front of me pulled out a family size bag of Popeye's Chicken from the overhead compartment.

Full of chicken.

Meatloaf. Chicken. Tigger. And a lady who whispered the entire set of emergency directions to her friend and checked to make sure his seat belt was secure. Did I mention she reclined his chair?

She reclined his chair.

Long live the crazies.

Tough Topic Tuesday

There is something sobering about meeting students with stories that sound fictional. Their mom’s practice witchcraft and their dad’s and uncle’s sneak into their bedrooms at night. Some live with drunks and protect their little brothers and sisters and some of them are drunks themselves; it assuages the pain. Some of them are homeless. Some of them are cutting themselves. Some contemplate suicide and others are only walking because they failed at killing themselves; add it to the list of their failures they say. Some of them are told they will amount to nothing and most of them believe it; check their criminal record, it validates what they believe about themselves. Some of them are pregnant while others are dealing with the nightmares of the day they had their abortion. Some of them are violent. They hit. They rage. They provoke. They deflate. They fall into depression. Some of them are lonely, convinced that the only person they will ever be intimate with is the girl performing for them on their computer screen.

These kids tell me their stories. They unload in a very matter-of-fact way. It’s like they don’t even have tears. Tears are for little kids. Tears are for people who care.

Tears are for people who feel.

Tears can be isolated, sectioned off, and compartmentalized into a place so deep and hidden that they will never see a sunrise. They don’t need tears. They tell me their stories like a commander explaining the details of a suicide mission. Like a biologist dissecting an animal. Like a mortician sewing up the lips of a dead body.

When I hear these stories my heart begins to race. I feel sweat beading against the back of my neck. My breathing gets heavy. My legs feel like led. I can hear about their horror story, I can listen to whatever they want to tell me. I can shoulder their burdens for a moment and cry tears for them that they cannot yet cry for themselves. I can be their friend. I can love them deeply. I can hold them tight and not let go. I can do those things.

But then they look at me. They want me to say something.

Expectant eyes. Open ears. Open mind. Open heart.

I feel the weight of the world crushing down on my lungs. A punch in the gut. Someone has knocked the air out of me.

What do I say?

I have it good. I’ve never worried about being abandoned. I’ve never worried that the electricity would be cut or that my dad would come home and hit me. I’ve never had a drunk for a mom or even a mean mom for that matter. No major deaths. No major tragedies. I have always had everything I needed. In the scope of history, as far as women go, I have had the easiest existence of any generation before me. Wealth, education, and freedom have come at no cost to me. I still call my sisters my friends and I am voluntarily spending my one week off with my parents. It is a rare day when I do not feel loved, encouraged, or supported by the many, many people in my life. My experience with the vile things of this world is limited to a daily news feed.

I have it good.

And yet here I sit. Face to face with kids, adults even, who know the dirty parts of this world. Those who have been in darkness for so long that light is merely an apparition.

And apparitions are dangerous.

False hope kills the soul.

Still they want me to listen and they need some sort of balm for their soul. Perhaps they will try what I have to give them.

They finish telling me their nightmare and I tempted to be very afraid. I have nothing to offer them. Even the name of God or the power of Jesus, which I believe in, sounds trite in the moment. I, the woman with way too many words, am without a single syllable to utter and I often feel like a failure.

Isn’t that Enough?

Lately, the issue of human trafficking has hunted me down and not left me alone.

Karissa, a recent high school graduate that I met a few months ago at a show, was the first girl I have ever met who has been through such an ordeal. She reads this blog- and she knows what I think of her. Beautiful. Strong. Healed. Called. The most enchanting personality in the world... I love the girl...I really do.... except for the dang fact that she keeps praying that God would use me to reach girls like her with hope.

In a recent conversation she told me she believed God wanted to use me to work in the lives of those who are broken. Specifically girls who have experience sexual trauma.

My response to her?

No thank you. Why me? Why can’t I just be passionate about saving the whales? Why can’t I head up a doggy adoption drive? Why can’t I just be a super-cute PTA mom? A tree hugger? Or a champion for kids with disabilities? Why not be behind the recycling movement or saving a rainforest? I love rain forests! I love monkeys! I’ll be that girl!

These of course are all important causes, but for me, working with children at Special Olympics or running a doggy adoption drive are things that I would find great joy in. For me, those things are easy. They are comfortable. They are delightful even. I love on a helpless dog and we both go away feeling better about the world. I give a child a hug and scream their name till they hit the finish line and we both walk away feeling like champions.

There is no fear in that. No heart pounding, lung crushing, emotionally stunned silence that makes me feel completely and utterly helpless to help. There is no insecurity in doing what comes naturally to us. There is no pain, no huge sacrifice required to do that which we already know and love. There is no chance of failure when we only help the people and causes that we know how to handle; that we relate with and understand.

There is no significant gap for God to come and do a miracle when we have all the answers. When we only serve God and others by doing the things that are easy, convenient, sterile and enjoyable... we cheat the world out of miracles.

I sing. I’ve always loved to sing. It’s easy. It’s fun. And, the songs that I sing bring people hope and joy. Isn’t that offering good enough? Why try and do anything else? Especially if it makes me uncomfortable and I don’t enjoy it?

Most of us settle in right there. This is what I’m good at. This is how much I will offer. This is how far I will go. Don’t ask for anything more from me or my family or my bank account or my time... we have drawn the line and done our fair share. We are saving whales and helping orphaned puppies. Isn‘t that enough?

Available? Or just sort of available?

Most people will live this way. I can’t judge the impact of their lives one way or the other. But I can say that the more I get to know Jesus the more He seems to point to a way of living that goes beyond just doing what is easy and convenient and semi-sacrificial on our part. He points to a more radical life that is more fulfilling for us and more healing for those who most need healing.

I can’t shake the feeling I get when I read about the life of Jesus. He was radical in his love for broken, destitute, dirty, un-easy people. Thank God he chose to do more than just what came easy for Him. Thank God he was radical in his love for those he encountered that had truly seen the evil, nasty part of humanity. Thank God he looked into the eyes of a man so possessed by demons that he foamed at the mouth. A woman so entangled with sleeping around that she had to go get water from the well when other women were not there to spit on her. Thank God he touched the leper who had not been physically touched in years.

I get the feeling that even Jesus grew weary. Taking breaks from people. Alone time. Naps, even. Maybe it wasn’t all that easy for him either. To bear with the difficult people. To see the evil. To always have the right words. To take on the hypocrisy in the synagogue. To stop the bleeding, raise the dead, forgive the low lives, and to cast demons out of people.

Still, He showed us what it looks like to be available to the most deeply wounded among us.

And still, I find myself asking him for a different assignment.

Orphaned puppies, Lord.

Pleeeeease, just let me be that girl that takes care of orphaned puppies.

Not girls who have been raped. Not human trafficking. Not me.

Not Dexter the homeless guy. He smells. He’s paralyzed. And this week when my sweet friend Sara called to tell me Dexter was at the gas station, and I found him, and a fluke rain storm began to thunder down, and I decided to put him in the car and carry him to the bus stop... with Annie in the car... with Dexter in his wheel chair... with my heart pounding and the people around me staring at me like I was insane or in danger... and my own conscious doubting and fearful and my hands shaking as I helped pull his legs up and into the car...

Please Lord. Please send someone else. Please not me. Please not this...

Tough Topic Tuesday

Are we, as Christians, simply available for the causes and people that are easy, clean, sterile, and convenient? Or are we available for the moments where we have no idea what to say or how to respond?

It’s in these moments, when I am afraid that I don’t have a single word to offer to this person who has walked such a different path than me, that God has space to perform miracles. And he does. I am learning that the less equipped I am, the more equipping He gets to do. As my roommate in college used to say in her sassy East Texas country accent, “God gets to show off!”

Now I just have to learn to be available. For anything.

Gift Giving.

When I was a little girl, I fell in love with giving people presents.

Don't get me wrong, I loved getting presents too. And, I loved saving up my money to buy things for myself. One of my earliest memories is going to Fred's Salvage in Laurel, Mississippi after I had worked a very hard Charlie Brown Sno Cone stand sale in my front yard.

I made three dollars.

All I wanted to buy was scotch tape, cherry chapstick, and garland.

I loved the smell of the first two and was convinced that I needed shiny red and green garland strung all over my room to have a truly magical Christmas. Plus, garland, I rationalized, would attract more customers to my business ventures. And at five years old, I was all about starting my own businesses in my bedroom.

Buying scotch tape, cherry chapstick, and garland is one of my earliest, most cherished memories.

But even more than saving money and buying things for myself, I couldn't wait to pick out the perfect gifts for other people.

I liked giving gifts so much that as I got older my parents would never give me money for my birthday because they knew that as soon as I got birthday money in November, I started Christmas shopping for the month of December! And as much as I wanted things for myself, it was just too alluring to have the money to spend on the perfect gift for someone else. And that's what I did, and still do. I habitually use my birthday money and gift cards to start buying up the perfect present for someone else.

I can't stand it. If I had a million dollars I'd blow it in an afternoon... mostly on other people.

Skye

There's a sixth grade girl who absolutely adores Annie. She babysits her from time to time while I get work done around the house and I hear them squealing and laughing together. It's really sweet.

A few months ago Skye was at a weekend event with us (her father was the speaker) and when we came back after lunch she was beaming. She spent her break buying Annie and I presents. She bought Annie a mirror because, "Annie loves looking at herself more than any baby I've ever played with!" Next door was a funky, cheap jewelry store and she picked out a bracelet for me to wear on stage. One that matched the outfit I was already wearing! She's a fashionista. Her dad was so confused... he was shocked that she wanted to go shopping for us and not for herself.

I found myself telling her, the way an older sister tells their little sis, "Skye, God has given you a tender heart. A lot of times you think about other people before you think about yourself. That's why you love to give gifts. But be prepared: not everyone will give the way you do. And sometimes when you give, you won't get anything back. And sometimes you'll spend a lot of time thinking of the perfect present for someone, and it won't even cross their mind to ever buy you a present. It can hurt your feelings and make you bitter if you're not prepared for it. But you just keep giving anyways. Whether you get something back or not. Keep thinking about other people."

After it spewed out of me, I wondered, where did that come from? Poor girl just bought us presents and I'm lecturing her on the shortcomings of inadequate gift givers. I sounded like a bitter old woman who got coal in her stocking one too many times!

Truth Is

We aren't born with an instinctive nudge to place others ahead of ourselves. In the gift giving world this means that while we might find a million things we love at Target for ourselves, it may not cross our minds to think of someone else while we are shopping. You might be guilty of this if you seem to leave a Christmas shopping trip with more things for yourself than anyone else. You might be guilty of this if you find yourself in the aisle of a department store or browsing online catalogues and seem to be at a complete and utter loss of having any idea what to even get another person (the person is often a close friend or family member at that!). You might be guilty of this if you cringe at having to spend money on someone else besides yourself... like you dread birthdays because- there goes your Galleria money down the drain!

As a mom, I'm excited to teach my daughter how to avoid these pitfalls, and instead, how to become a joyful giver. I believe the reason Skye found so much joy in buying us presents is that she has seen someone in her life exemplify what it means to joyfully think of others. To be excited for someone else. To give, just because.

Oh, if we only learned earlier what it means to cheer for someone else. To want their best. To give them a better present than we get ourselves...

the world would be sweeter

My mom taught us to be good gift givers. She was always excited to give my dad the perfect present. She was always excited to give us each and every birthday gift because she had been looking for them, thinking about them, and buying them for months. The perfect present. You could see her face about to explode she was so excited.

One year I told my mom, "You need to get something else for dad because he got you the most amazing thing in the whole world. It's huge! And I'm afraid you don't have enough for him." I think my sisters told her the same thing. We were very nervous that Dad had "overbought" for her and so she started searching for another gift. And, a few days before Christmas I remember her coming home with another gift. A leather jacket. It cost one hundred dollars, might as well been a million. We assured her that now they would be even.

Dad got mom a full sized body pillow that year.

It was the biggest thing we had ever seen.

This always makes me laugh.

Teaching our Kids to Give their Best!

I've never written a blog like this, and I have to admit, I feel rather old- or out of place- assuming that I have wisdom or advice to pass out to other parents! But I guess I' about to turn thirty, so here goes:

What my mom taught me about gift giving:

1. Listen to those you love and watch what they get excited about in stores or during TV commercials. Keep a mental note. Or an actual note! Go back to the store that day if you can and get the very thing they were mentioning. Keep it for their next big celebration. If you have kids, make a point to say, "Girls, let's remember that daddy really loved that lawn mower and start to save money so we can buy it for him." Teaching our kids to be interested in what their brothers, sisters, or friends like, sets them up for a lifetime of intentionally listening in order to give to others. Setting aside money teaches them that sometimes we give up things for ourselves in order to give someone else a special gift.

2. Start a present closet at the house. When you are at a store with your kids, allow them to pick out a few clearanced items for the gift closet. While you might want to let them get one small item for themselves, the point of the gift closet is to stash away really cool gifts for other people. It teaches them a great lesson to be able to say, "I know you'd love that too, but it will be more special for Julie if we just buy it for her birthday!" The gift closet is about always finding a bargain and having gifts on hand at any given moment, but more importantly, it is about teaching our kids that they can fall in love with fun gifts and be excited about giving those things to their friends instead of having them for themselves.

3. Allow gift giving to be fun. Keep your eyes open for discounted gift bags, ribbon, wrapping paper, etc. Encourage your children to put together the gift themselves. Even if we weren't with mom when she bought things for the gift closet, we always knew what was in there! For me, one of the most fun parts of the process was going into the gift closet and picking out two or three things to put together in a package. Even if it was an odd mix like: snow gloves, lip gloss, and a hello kitty t-shirt, I took great pride in putting together funky gifts and my friends never knew the difference! Giving our children freedom to be creative in the gift-giving process allows them to put their own stamp of approval on the gift and feel like it's truly their own creation.

4. Finally, it's never too late for you to become a great gift-giver. This doesn't mean you spend a lot of money or stress yourself out over finding the perfect gift. There is NOTHING more unattractive about a gift than a giver who tells you her grief over finding the gift, her annoyance, her mall induced headaches, or someone who throws in the occasional, "Well, he better like it. It cost a fortune." Yuck. It's better to give a gift card or a wad of cash than to be in a foul frenzy over buying presents. That's not what I mean!

What I mean is this, as moms and dads- as humans- it's never too late to begin to take joy in other people and what they love. So ask yourself, when is the last time I really listened to my husband and picked up on something he is enjoying and bought him a gift? When is the last time my kids came home from school and I picked up their favorite _______ just because? Go through Target. You don't even have to buy anything, but mentally make the trip about other people and not about yourself! Hard to do, I know!

It's never too late to model what it means to be excited to love on someone else and to show our children how that translates into gift giving ... whether that's a homemade card, a home cooked meal, a fun gift for a friend, or a surprise for dad/mom. Teaching our kids to take joy in bringing joy to others is a priceless gift!

On that note, I thought I'd share my latest purchases for the 'gift closet' that I hope Annie will fall in love with one day. These are ALL from Target and they are all currently 75% off... so go stock up for your gift closet and let the kids do the buying!

Bag of Balls: $5.08

Rake: .75 cents

Lion Bubble Blower: $2.24

I bought one bag of balls for Annie and one for the gift closet. Annie is in LOVE with her $10 ball pit! Summer pools are on sale for $5. Balls are $5. This is the greatest idea I've had in a long time!

The red clearance stickers that I have so grown to love at Target!

Bright Pink Sand Wagon: $2.87.

It comes with a shovel, sand pale, and a few other gadgets. Annie has been pulling it around the house, with her balls in it, all night.

(Another idea: Buy up these blue and pink wagons and use them for your next baby shower gift! Stuff them with baby diapers or teddy bears and use them as a decoration or a gift bag!)

Penwheels: .24 cents.

Party favors or fake flowers for your little girl. You can even chop these penwheels off their sticks, tie string through the middle and use a coat hanger to create your own sparkly mobile. For 24. cents there are about 24 million things you can do with these things!

Hope these ideas have helped. Happy Gift Giving.

I Hugged Meggan Schwirtz.

shared with written and verbal consent from author...

Sunday July 11, 2010

Dear Jenny Simmons -

I struggled a lot with how to start this email. The top three starting choices were: 1. I don't know if you realize this, but we are the very best of friends. 2. I am without a doubt your biggest fan. OR 3. Crazy people do exist. However, I promise I am not one of them.

I just couldn't decide so I thought I would share all 3.

I am a 25 year old youth pastor's wife living in Pine River, Minnesota where pine trees & lakes can be found abundantly! My husband Trevor & I have been serving the Lord in full-time ministry for four years now. We have a passion to see our youth come to know the Lord early on in life & make a difference in the community around them. And this week, on Thursday July 15, 2010 Trevor & I are packing up our awesome group to come to Sonshine Music Festival in Wilmar, Minnesota to see our favorite band, Addison Road.

I first became a fan of your music when the song "Hope Now" was released back in 2008. I was enduring the storms of life at that time, since my little sister Bridgett, at the young age of 19, lost her life in a head-on car accident. To say I was devastated would be putting it mildly. My sister knew the Lord & seeked to serve Him as a young child. She had a beautiful, compassionate heart to love on the kids in her high school who others made fun of. The Lord used her in many ways to help teens with eating disorders, cutting, suicidal thoughts, and depression come to know the freedom & joy that belongs to those who have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Bridgett left for college with a full academic scholarship to become a pediatrician, when she was killed in the car accident.

For the longest time, I wrestled with my doubts towards God. Why her? It just didn't seem to make any sense. She had so much to give this world. During that painful time, I not only heard the lyrics of your song, I felt them with my own hands. "I've been carried by You, All my life.....When my life is like a storm, Rising waters all I want is the shore. You say I'll be ok and Make it through the rain, You are my shelter from the storm. And everything rides on hope now...."

Your song became my battle cry. The song I listened to when little made sense. When I ached for healing. Knowing that I was being held. That the Lord was my shelter. And that I would make it through this storm. It somehow made me understand that our suffering was not in vain. That God had plans to use Bridgett's death for more than I ever could have imagined.

Her funeral was attended by thousands, some waiting in line for hours just to pay their respects to Bridgett & tell our family of how she had personally impacted their life. During the ceremony, dozens gave their hearts to Jesus for the first time, including our own Dad. We are also now miraculously meeting Bridgett's organ donors, witnessing the precious gift of life first hand, and seeing them one by one come to know of the True Love offered by Bridgett's Lord & Savior.

To see so much good come from something so tragic, helps me know that the Lord uses all things for His purpose & glory.

After hearing your song on the radio, I went to your website to order the cd. This is when I stumbled upon your blog & realized that we were of course long lost best friends. I have been reading your thoughts & hilarious musings for years now, always thankful for the "word vomit" that God gives you to reach us, your loyal followers. I think of your blog posts almost like a new episode of a favorite television show. The kind of show you break out a big buttered bowl of popcorn for & must have absolute silence to watch what will happen next. My husband used to hate the constant "Shush!" 'ing that occured as I was reading about your latest adventures, until I got him hooked on your blog as well :) To read of all the battles Addison Road has faced this past year with the RV fire, stolen vehicles, and weather storms has just affirmed to me that God uses the toughest of times to make our faith grow in ways we never thought possible.

I also wanted to tell you for the record that the single "Fight Another Day" was released at God's most perfect timing! I was 2 weeks overdue with my first baby when the lyrics came out to remind me to press through the swollen fingers, back aches, weird cravings, and mood swings until I could finally meet my beautiful daughter, Addison Bridgett Schwirtz.

So I guess Jenny, I mostly just wanted to say thank you. For your example. For your beautiful words. For being willing. And for actually reading my email. You have blessed my life. And if I never get to meet you, please know that I thank the Lord for you. And that He's using you, in big ways & small, to restore hope to many who have somehow lost it.

I am hoping we will meet this week at Sonshine & that I might be able to say thank you in person. And give you a hug.

Keep Writing. Keep Singing. Keep Loving. Keep Going.

We love you Jenny!!

Lots of Love & Thanks - Meggan Schwirtz

This email blessed me immensely and I wanted to share Meggan's story with you. Meggan, thanks for letting me share a small part of your story here.

You can leave her a comment on the blog if you'd like.

I got to hug Meggan Schwirtz.

We spent a whole hour together.

And it was truly my honor...

Ryan

Ryan can't keep a secret to save his life.

He bought me a camera today. He wanted to surprise me with it next week before I got on the plane to bring Annie to my parents house. But as soon as he walked in the door this morning he blurted out, "I got you a present! Close your eyes! Hold out your hands!"

I was thinking maybe it was a cupcake. Maybe a new shirt or something. But then he put a Canon PowerShot SD 1400 in my hands. I have no idea how much it cost and I don't want to know. All I know is that it is little and beautiful and he already picked out a pink case for it.

And it has a zoom! Y'all, I have a real live camera with a zoom on it!

I love that he can't keep a secret. I love that someone who read this blog didn't want us to have to "blow" our budget this week and sent us money to eat out and have fun date nights. And I love that Ryan bought fresh veggies and smoothie ingredients for the week and opted to use that money to get me a camera instead.

***

I love that Ryan bought a dust buster for the soul purpose of sucking the crumbs out of Annie's highchair after every meal.

I love that Annie and I can be playing in her bedroom and she hears the sound of the dust buster and shrieks,

"DADDY!"

***

I love that, up until last week, Ryan sent his mom every single flight number we were on so she could keep track of us and not be worried. Seven years of flights. Who knows how many flights. And he did it quietly, lovingly. I love that about him.

***

I love that Ryan whispers when he has something bad to say about Annie. Like how she is a monster or driving him crazy or when we are discussing, "What is wrong with her? Why is she so happy and full of energy all the time?" I love that he whispers.

***

I love that Ryan takes me on dates to hotel bathrooms.

The hardest part of traveling with a baby is the lack of any privacy for the two of us. When we are spending the night in a hotel, which usually happens several nights a week, we have to turn the lights out when Annie goes to bed at 9 pm. No TV. No reading in bed. No talking really. And someone has to be in the room. Sometimes he goes out with the boys and I slip into an early sleep wrapped up around Annie.

But sometimes he goes to the lobby and comes back upstairs with a bottle of coke and some sort of snack. He sets it up in the bathroom and we sit in there, on the hotel bathroom floor, and we have a date night.

***

"It's like this," he said, "Most men go to work each day and come home to spend evenings and weekends with their family. They go on one, maybe two week long vacations a year. A few weekend trips. And perhaps a few days around the holidays. That's it. And that's enough to last them until the next year. Because those trips can be exhausting. Exasperating. Family vacation. I hated family vacations growing up. And I've figured it out Jen... I am on perpetual family vacation with you and Annie."

This made me smile. Perpetual family vacation.

Poor guy.

All I could think of was Chevy Chase...

Yet, he still takes me on dates to the hotel bathroom. And you've never seen a little girl love her daddy the way this little girl loves this man.

I love that Ryan is on perpetual family vacation, while running a business, being with his three best guy friends, doing the best to love his family back home, pay the bills, keep us on schedule, booking shows, playing concerts, making sure we have hotel rooms to go to at night, making every little detail fall into place... and he still has a smile on his face.

***

I love that I already know his reaction to this post. And, believe me babe, I didn't sit down with this direction in mind, it just happened, I promise...

I know he is going to be embarrassed and is going to be ranting about his invasion of privacy....blah, blah, blah.

He's cute when he rants.