Confessions of an Rx Addict

About two years ago, I was very pregnant (five days away from my due date to be more specific), and watching my favorite band play for the last time ever, tapping the drum beats on my belly. If my little boy couldn’t ever see them play live, at least he could hear and feel them play their farewell tour in utero. 

Me backstage at the SLC farewell tour stop.  7/25/2011.

It’s been a long road of loving the Rx Bandits, one that started the first time I saw them play in a tiny garage known as Kilby Court in 2001, and has continued on for more than a decade. I’ve seen them play live over 40 times in a total of 9 U.S. states. I realize this makes me sound like a complete and total fangirl, but I’m OK with that. It’s a label that I will proudly own up to when it comes to Rx. I love music. Lots of different kinds of music. But the music of the Bandits just hits a spot in my soul, makes me dance, makes me happy, makes me think, and makes me do crazy things like fly to New York City, hop a train to New Jersey, and drag my luggage through the ice and snow to attend a show in a tiny, sweaty club in Asbury Park.

At this, the two year mark of the birth of my baby boy and the farewell tour of RXB, and mere weeks away from seeing their SLC stop on The 10 Year Resignation Anniversary Tour, I thought it would be a great time to chronicle some of the most memorable, insane, and super amazeballs RXB shows that I’ve had the pleasure of attending….as well as one that I didn’t quite make it to.

It was August something-or-other in 2001 and a few of my really good friends were in a band called Zero to Hero. One of the best spots for aspiring local bands to get their first gig was the infamous Kilby Court in downtown Salt Lake City. It’s a garage-turned-furniture-studio-turned-venue where I’ve had the immense pleasure of seeing tons of crazy good bands before they make it big. I’ve even played the stage myself. It’s small, crowded, freezing in the winter, sweltering in the summer, and a great spot to open for a national, touring band and get your gig legs under you before embarking on a tour yourself. So, Zero to Hero got a spot opening for Rx Bandits, and I headed to Kilby, not really expecting much. I’d heard “Analog Boy” on a Drive-Thru Records sampler that wasn’t bad, but little did I know that I was about to become a super fan. After only one live set, I was totally hooked. 

Rx plays Kilby Court - August 2001

The view from my very first Rx show

Growing up, I played the alto saxophone and had a mild affinity for jazz, ska, and any genre that made use of my instrument. So, while I appreciated those ska flavors in a few of their songs, they weren’t what drew me in. The band was crazy energetic and passionate about their tunes, the trombonist played air guitar on his instrument and danced around like a lunatic, the drummer was a MACHINE, the horn section joined in and played drums on a few songs, and… I may or may not have had a crush on the lead singer, Matt Embree, and his lyrics. I was writing for SLUG Magazine at the time and I couldn’t wait to get back to my apartment in Provo to write my review of the show, and listen to the shiny new CD I picked up at the merch booth: “Progress.”

Fast forward three months. I met a dashing young man named Mason who shared my love for live music, and I also found out that RX was playing a show at the House of Blues in Las Vegas. Those two ingredients were the perfect recipe for our first road trip as a couple, with our friends Annan and Lisa. 

Lisa, Annan, me and Mason. November 2001 at House of Blues Las Vegas

Looking back at the line-up now, it really makes me giggle to see the rise and fall of various indie and mainstream bands in a few short years. Thrice was the opener (I’d never even heard of them at this point, but would later interview them for SLUG, see them live at least 10 times, and dislocate my jaw in one of their pits), followed by RX, followed by old-timers H2O, and…New Found Glory was the headliner. We pushed our way to the front row (through throngs of NFG teeny boppers), danced our feet off, and went to talk to the band after the show. We told them that we had driven over 400 miles to see them, and thus began a decade of the Bandits thinking that these kids from Salt Lake City were totally insane. 

I'm really excited about these tickets to see New Found Glory

Later that year, I saw a post on a message board that Rx Bandits were looking for someone to replace Rich on the trombone. I emailed them right away and asked if they would consider an alto sax player that could sing, and Matt wrote back, “Sax is sick” and started asking questions about my influences and availability to tour. I lived a few brief days feeling like Mark Wahlberg in “Rock Star,” imagining myself in the studio and on tour with a band I really loved. But when all was said and done, I was a working, full-time college student, they had a brutal schedule, and I think we can all agree that it’s a really good thing they ended up with Steve Borth as Rich’s eventual replacement. I really love what his vocals (as well as his sax of course) brought to the mix.

Mason and I had been dating for a few months, and my 21st birthday was approaching. Through some twisted twist of fate, guess who was playing a show in Sin City on my 21st birthday? Ding, ding, ding, you guessed it! Annan, Mason and I trekked to Vegas once again and saw Rx play a tiny venue called Tremorz with openers Yellowcard and The Exit. Yellowcard went on to experience some moderate fame with their violining-while-backflipping schtick, so it’s always fun to say “I saw them when…..” but I wasn’t really impressed that night. The Exit, however: very impressive. 

Me, Matt, Annan and Mason (with a drumstick from The Exit).  Las Vegas, February 2002.

That summer, Mason and I broke up. And got back together. And broke up again. Yeah, 2002 was one of THOSE summers. In a rebellious and fleeting moment after one of the break-ups, I decided that Annan and I should go see a few Rx shows as single ladies. We packed up my tiny Civic with our sleeping bags, our giant Case Logic CD wallets (remember those?), and our 52 ounce mugs of Diet Coke with lemon, and drove to Visalia, California. We had no hotel room, no itinerary, and basically no plan whatsoever. We ran out of gas and almost got kidnapped in the Mojave desert, we spent the night at some random fan’s house with the band, we took showers at truck stops, we sat in the tour van, we helped load equipment in to a tiny venue in Fresno, we made out with a merch guys, we camped on a hotel’s front lawn and got awakened by sprinklers, I got to sing a duet on stage with Dynamite Boy, and Matt played one of my requests for the very first time (“Nothing Sacred”). 

Singing "No Way Out" with Dynamite Boy.  Fresno, CA 2002.

Gak, Derrick, Joe, Annan, etc. playing king's cup in Visalia, CA.

Rx Bandits, Dynamite Boy, and The Reunion Show Tour, 2002

Slumber party!

Looking back, my only regret is that Mason wasn’t there to share in that trip of a trip. WE WERE ON A BREAK!

Obviously, we eventually got back together, saw some more Bandits shows, and in June of 2003, we got married. That summer, Annan, Mason and I embarked on an epic adventure (an extended honeymoon, if you will) to see a few shows in Texas and Louisiana. “The Resignation” had just been released, and I remember suffering from a very literal and very serious case of Rx FEVER. I seriously couldn’t listen to them or see them live enough. That album was so many levels above “Progress,” they had new members, new instruments, and a completely new live show that needed to be experienced over and over again. We flew to Houston and on July 24, 2003, we experienced the sweatiest Rx show of our young lives at a venue called Java Jazz in the suburb of Spring, Texas. When we drove up to the venue that night, Matt was sitting on the back of their van’s trailer, and we waved at him as we passed by. I will never forget the look on his face. If there had been a caption to that photo, it would’ve been, “Is that really those bleeping kids from bleeping UTAH?!?!?!??!” It was classic.

This girl has been to a couple hundred shows and gotten pretty darn sweaty, but hands down, that show in Spring was the hottest and sweatiest I’ve ever been in my entire life. I lost two pounds of sweat, but I also gained seven pounds of other people’s perspiration in my clothes and my hair. We ran straight to our car after their set, stripped down, and sat half-naked in front of the A/C vents, wringing our sopping wet shirts out the window. It was fantastic.

Rx had the next night off, so we traveled to Austin to see the city and another show at Emo’s. I think we saw Further Seems Forever, but I’m not 100% sure. All I remember is that Austin was a great little music town with excellent shopping, and that it was HOT as all get out. The following night, we broke all the rules on the rental car contract that I signed and drove Lance, our Mitsubishi Lancer, over state lines, across the great Mississippi River, and into Louisiana. Rx was scheduled to play at a tiny venue in Baton Rouge called The Spanish Moon, but there was trouble in paradise. Joe was having abdominal pains of epic proportions that turned out to be appendicitis. Wah wah.

The moral of the story is this: sometimes when you fly 1500 miles to Texas and drive another 270 miles to Louisiana to see a band, they end up cancelling their show. And that’s just life. However, the second moral to the story is this: when an Rx show is cancelled due to the bass player being in the hospital, sometimes Matt Embree will play a solo set to make you feel better. OK, it wasn’t really for me, but it really did make me feel better. He did some great renditions of Rx songs, including the only time I’ve seen “Pal -Treaux” live, and a few covers as well. The one that really sticks out in my mind was his version of Bill Withers’ “Ain’t No Sunshine.” Borth joined him on stage to sing harmony, but you better believe that I was watching from the front row, wishing that I was the one singing with him. You see what I did there? That’s a little literary tool known as foreshadowing!

A few years and more than a few shows passed. We continued our regular routine of seeing them every time they played in SLC (of course), and anywhere close(ish). 

Another Kilby Court show

Matt's not on board with the cheek kiss

They all spent the night at Annan’s house after a show at Club Xscape, and I’ll not soon forget how rock ‘n roll Canyon View Drive looked with a tour van and trailer parked on it. We made a Disneyland trip out of one of their House of Blues shows (where Nate from Finch guest-starred on “Infection”), sweated it out in the basement of Jerry's Pizza in Bakersfield, and made it to Vegas a couple more times as well. 

Cut to the next truly memorable show experience: Asbury Park, New Jersey at The Stone Pony in late 2006. A good friend of ours was returning from a two-year stint in the Peace Corps in Africa via NYC, so a group of us decided to surprise her with an airport rendezvous and extended stay. Like I always did before departing for a trip, I checked to see if there were any good shows in the NY area, and you guessed it: there was an Rx show! One problem, well two problems: it was the night we arrived, and we weren’t set to land until around 7 pm, and two, it was in New Jersey. With much scouting of the MTA website, I found us a way to land at JFK, take the subway to Penn Station, and then get on another train that would take us out to Asbury Park in time for the show. The scary part was that the last train left Jersey a bit before midnight, and if we didn’t catch that train, we’d be stuck in the garden state without a paddle.

We knew it would be a bit hectic, but we were still pumped. Then I got a cold. Then I gave it to Mason. Then we realized that we’d have our luggage with us on the entire blessed Jersey journey. Then we landed at JFK and it was go-time. We made the trains, stepped on to a frozen solid platform and started our trek to the club, all the while wheeling around our luggage behind us, through puddles of slush and ice. We were basically screaming out, “WE ARE CLUELESS TOURISTS. PLEASE COME AND MUG US.” Walking into the club, a heaven-sent wave of humid heat greeted us. It was stinky-show-smell, but who cares? It was warm. I somehow coerced the bouncer into letting us leave our bags in a utility closet and we managed to have a blast at the show, despite needing to blow my nose about 29 times throughout. There was no time for mingling afterwards, we had to haul back to the train before its midnight departure.

Some kind Jersey fans agreed to give us a lift to the train, and we gave them a CD of our band, The Precinct, in return. That train ride from Asbury Park to Penn Station to Brooklyn was one of the scariest hours of my life, I’ll be honest. At one point I was fairly certain that Mason was going to get attacked by a drugged-up homeless dude, and the rest of the time had the creepiest man alive staring at me from across the aisle, following us from train to train. Alas, we survived, and had a memorable, crazy good time in the Big Apple with our closest friends.

In April of 2007, the University of Wyoming booked Rx to play a show on campus, and we thought it was a stupendous opportunity for a road trip across the wasteland of the Cowboy state. Annan, Rebecca, Mason and I took half-days at work and piled in our Saab 9-5 Aero (that detail becomes important later) and drove due East. I’ll just be honest here, I wasn’t driving super responsibly. We were in a hurry to complete the 6-hour commute before the show started, and I happened to be driving a turbo-charged vehicle that felt smoother and more fabulous at 110 mph than it did at the posted speed limit of 75. We stopped for treats and switched drivers at a truck stop in the literal middle of nowhere, and when Mason took the wheel, he agreed that our noble steed, Simon, was a champion at top speeds and decided to “see how fast this baby can go.” Famous last words.

The turbo whirred, the tires hugged the totally vacant road, and it was exhilarating. We had only been going over the legal limit for a mere 30 seconds (and didn’t intend to carry on at that ridiculous speed for more than a minute) when I looked down and saw the speedometer approaching 140. It was at that moment that something caught the corner of my eye. Something horrible. Something terrifying. The worst thing one could ever encounter on I-80: a highway patrol car. I yelled out “5-0!” and Mason hit the brakes and immediately slowed us back to 70 mph. The stream of expletives that filled our tiny cockpit at that moment was very impressive. The good news: the cop was across a giant median, speeding in the opposite direction. The bad news: I looked back to see his Impala jumping said giant median, lights flashing and sirens blazing.

Did you guys know that the cops have radar on the front AND the back of their vehicles? And that they don’t even need to be pointing the gun at you to clock your speed? Those nifty contraptions can take a reading from across a median, going the opposite direction, from the front and from behind! It’s pretty amazing. A feat of modern technology, really.

We pulled over and Officer Whatshisname declared that he had clocked us going 124 on his front radar and 111 on his rear radar. He actually seemed a little bit impressed with himself for catching the biggest fish Carbon County had seen in years. The rest of the night was kind of a blur. Mason got handcuffed and stuffed in the back of the Impala, Rebecca drove us 40 miles back in the other direction to the county jail in Rawlins, and I took on the role of hysterically crying wife. We booked a night at a hotel across the street while Mason himself got booked. I called Matt to let him know that we wouldn’t be making the show after all, due to incarceration, and that he could take us off the guest list. “That’s pretty rock ‘n roll,” he said. It was one of the few smiles I cracked that night.

In the morning, I walked over to the jail to sit in on my husband’s very first (and hopefully last) hearing. I had never been happier to see my love than I was that morning. He had survived his first (and hopefully last) night in jail, and he looked so cute clad in an orange jumpsuit and matching orange slip-on Vans. The judge let my Mason off with a big fat ticket, a stern warning, and a hilarious question when the evidence was presented that the accused was clocked going 124 in a 75. “124? Were you driving a car or flying a plane?” This was particularly amusing to me because I’d been a Saab enthusiast (read: nut) since the age of 8. Saab started out making aircrafts and their slogan at the time was “Born From Jets.” So he sort of was flying a plane.

"What we need right now is Love" by Mason Fetzer.  Spray paint on vinyl.  www.masonfetzer.com

Though we were forced to skip that particular show, the rest of 2007 was a red-letter year in terms of my Rx-show-going. In August, a trip to a SoCal beach house with friends coincided with three shows on their tour with The Fall of Troy, and in the fall, the University of Utah invited the Bandits to play their annual Redfest. I’d been going to Redfest for years. Even if I didn’t particularly love the bands they booked, tickets were FREE with your (or your friend’s) student ID, so we would always go and enjoy some live music while watching the sun set over the Salt Lake valley. The Format, Straylight Run, Rx, and Jack's Mannequin were scheduled to play the sunset show, but as a part of the festivities, they booked local bands to play throughout the day at the Union. The Precinct was asked to play an hour set during lunch time. Even though we played a good 8 hours before Rx came on stage, this is where I like to say, “One time, we opened for Rx Bandits.” It counts, right?

Our set went well, I went back to the office, and then we headed back to campus after work for the show. I’d discovered The Format years earlier (thanks to Rx for touring with them) and had always been impressed with Nate and their live show. The Precinct even covers a couple of their songs. Now everything has come full circle. Nate’s new band Fun. headlined that very same Redfest in 2011, and now they are Grammy-winning-radio-regulars in 2013. I couldn’t be happier for them and their success, but I digress. The crowd at Redfest was excellent. I have no doubt why most bands say that Salt Lake is one of their favorite cities to play. We all sang every word to The Format and waited impatiently for los Banditos to take the stage. They had played Salt Lake a mere week after “…And the Battle Begun” came out earlier that year, but only the superfans who had pre-ordered the album and listened to it 129 times before that show knew any of the songs. I think that’s why the Redfest crowd was so particularly pumped: seeing those songs live for the first time (after you know and love the album) is a spiritual experience, for sure. I’d seen the ATBB set about 6 or 7 times already, but that didn’t make it any less spiritual.

The title track is my favorite off that album—and maybe even my favorite of all time—so when I heard Gak start the intro, I turned to jelly. I looked over towards the middle of the crowd and saw one of my favorite things I’ve ever seen at a Bandits show: a dude holding his shoes above his head, paying homage to the line, “Take off your shoes baby, it’s time for dancing.” I wanted to go give that guy (whoever he was) a big hug at that moment. The set continued in sheer face-melting awesomeness, and then they started “Only For the Night.” I was dancing and singing and jumping around as usual, but then I heard something that made me stop. Matt had changed the lyrics and given us a shout out. Rather than “She makes it better….only for the night,” he sang, “The Precinct makes it better…only for the night.” One of my favorite Rx moments, to be sure.

I had been following the various band members’ side projects throughout this whole ordeal as well, and Seekret Socyetee’s “The IL2 Word” had become one of my favorite hip-hop records ever. While driving Matt to some after-show grub in my car, the Neil Young song on the random mix that was playing came to an end. What was next up on the mix, you ask? Why, it was “To Each His Own” by Seekret Socyetee, of course. AWKWARD. I looked over (somewhat horrified) at Matt, who was just sitting there laughing. Probably one of my least favorite Rx moments, to be sure.

When the Love You Moon record came out, I was instantly hooked. I’d always loved Matt’s acoustic tracks, and it was simply a great and diverse album, from start to finish. However, whenever bands that I really love collaborate with a female singer, and that female singer is not me, I get a little pissed off and jealous (in a hilarious teenage girl sort of way). Tried as I might though, there’s no way I could ever hate Lauren Coleman. Her voice is just mesmerizing. It’s so chill and vintage sounding, and she’s just adorable. I’d first heard her on V.I.T.A.L Emcee’s “Slouch Hat,” and then when she was featured on Love You Moon’s record as well, I just had to accept the fact that she was Matt’s go-to female vocalist. And now there’s Pebaluna. Sigh.

In 2010, Matt was doing a solo tour to promote Love You Moon, and he was scheduled to play none other than Kilby Court, the place where I’d seen Rx for the first time nearly 10 years earlier. He called Mason the day of the show and asked for a ride from the airport. I’m sure that flying alone as opposed to driving in a van or tour bus with the dudes was quite a departure (no pun intended). So, we picked him and his guitar up at the airport and drove over to Kilby. We had a couple of drinks out of the trunk of our car and Matt asked if we had any drums or percussive devices to enhance his solo sound. I told him that we didn’t, but that I’d be more than happy to lend some vocal support on harmonies if it was needed. He asked which song I knew. I didn’t know how to say “ALL OF THEM” without sounding like the geek that I am, so I just said, “How about ‘A New World?’” which is basically a duet with Lauren. We ran through it once right there in the alley with the new tempo he’d been working on, and just like that, my dream of singing on stage with Matt was about to come true. 

Me and Matt on stage at Kilby Court, 2010

The show was tons of fun, especially because it had been so long since they’d played a tiny little venue like that. It was intimate and acoustic and awesome. Matt called me up on stage, we sang our ditty, and it was honestly in the top 3 moments I’ve ever experienced with a mic in my hand. It was simply as epic as I’d always envisioned it, and I didn’t even forget the words.

Some random kids invited Matt (and Annan, Mason and I by extension) over to their place after the show, and those warm fuzzies I had on stage lasted for hours afterwards as we talked and jammed. We even did a rendition of my favorite Jimi Hendrix song “Castles Made of Sand.” It got late and Matt asked if he could crash at our place, so we picked up some drive-thru Mexican food and headed home. If you thought that a Seekret Socyetee song playing while he was in my car was embarrassing, wait until you hear about the guest room that we put him up in.

Band posters plastered every wall of our first apartment, but after we grew up, bought a house, and moved to suburbia, we relegated all the band posters to the band room. The band room is also, coincidentally, the only other room in our house with a bed. As we led him downstairs, we apologized profusely that he would have to sleep in a room where himself, his band mates, and hundreds of other dudes would be staring blankly at him while he slept. Yes, there are lots of other band posters up there, but come on, of course the majority of them are Rx posters. Oops, sorry you had to sleep in your own shrine, Matt.

As a hilarious parallel, later that summer, we rented a house in Huntington Beach with our friends and stayed an extra day to hang out with Matt. He didn’t have room at his place, so he put Al, Mason and I up at his mom’s house in Seal Beach. I felt kind of awkward putting her out like that, but when she showed us to HER guest room, I couldn’t help but smile and laugh. It was covered in Rx memorabilia. There were framed newspaper articles, reviews, records, and posters everywhere. So, even though we felt funny about making Matt sleep in his shrine at our house, he made us sleep in his shrine at his mom’s house, so it’s all good.

There have been so many more amazing shows that I haven’t written about. A bowling alley on Fremont Street in Vegas, a surprise trip to two shows in Arizona for Mason’s birthday, using my SLUG press pass to get us in to the San Francisco Warped Tour, staying at the same hotel as the band in Boise, and adventures in macaroni and cheese-making on Rx’s tour bus.

Rx Bandits play the San Francisco Warped Tour, 2004 (?)

But of all of these shows, the farewell tour takes the cake. When they announced their farewell tour, I was 3 months pregnant. They didn’t have specific dates posted yet, but I knew it would be in the summer. My due date was July 30. Right then and there, I had to set myself some boundaries.

“OK Carly, if the show’s anytime in June, that’s OK. You can stand in the back, wear some comfy shoes, and make sure not to get elbowed. If the show’s in early July, you’re totally fine. If the show’s in late July, it gets a little iffy. And Carly, if you have a 3-day old baby, you CANNOT go to the show. Just face it. You can’t. You would be the most horrible mother in the land if you left your new new new newborn baby with Grandma (though she wouldn’t protest) to see a band you’ve already seen too many times. You just can’t. But Carly, it’s their FAREWELL TOUR!!!! Carly, don’t argue with me.”

Then Salt Lake’s date was posted: July 25. Ugh. There probably couldn’t have been a worse date. If Townes came early, there was no way I could go. If he came on time, I’d be the giant whale with a backache at the rock show. If he decided to come on July 25, I’d be the lady getting rushed out of the venue because her water broke during the opening band. The good news is that they put us on the list, so I didn’t have to worry about buying tickets that I wouldn’t be able to use. Then it was time to play the waiting game.

On July 25th, I felt pretty darn good and we decided to go to the show. We brought a case of local Utah brews, a painting that Mason had been working on for Matt and V.I.T.A.L.’s new side project, and met Matt, Choi, Joe and Gak on the tour bus. Everyone hugged and drank beers, I drank water, and Matt asked us what songs we wanted to hear that night. Having them play one of your requests is definitely awesome, but helping to WRITE THE SET LIST is beyond compare. I made sure Dinna Dawg, Taking Chase, Infection, and ATBB made the cut. The only one they wouldn’t give me was “Bled to be Free (The Operation)” because it was apparently too hard and they hadn’t practiced it. Jerks.

It’s a good thing we brought some beers, because they were all very confused as to why the liquor store was closed that day. Explaining Utah’s state holiday, Pioneer Day, to a group of Californians was totally amusing.

They were kind enough to explain to the bouncers that I was about to pop, gave me a fancy wristband, and offered me a seat backstage. The problem was, at this venue, there wasn’t really any sort of “back” stage to speak of. There was the stage, and then a ramp leading up to the stage. So, Mason and I took our seats on the edge of the ramp, right out in the open, and sang our guts out at what might be the last Rx show of our lives. It was also the first and last Rx show that our baby boy would probably ever experience, so we were definitely sentimental about the whole thing. Townes LOVED it. He was dancing and flipping around at the beginning, and then I think the sound lulled him into a nice and relaxing sleep for the last 30 minutes of the set. 

Best seat in the house.  Farewell tour, 2011.

Stage-side view

Though I longed to be out in the crowd and my back ached, Joe was kind enough to point his fan directly at me, and helped to keep the whole thing as cool and comfortable as possible. Before we knew it, the set list we had helped write was coming to an end. I could tell that the crowd was in the same happy/sad mood that we were. Matt gave a shout out to us and to Townes from the mic, and the band stopped by for hugs and kisses on their way back to the stage for the encore. Afterwards, we hung out in the giant warehouse next to the venue, gleaned baby wisdom from Gak, and let Joe feel the baby kick. If it truly had been the last Rx show of my life, I could have died happy.

Gak, Matt, Mason, and a very pregnant me

Joe wanted the baby to kick him in the head, and he did!

Lucky for me, and for all of humanity, the hiatus is back off again, and it was NOT the last Rx show I’d ever see. The Bandits played their first stop of the tour last night in San Francisco, and in exactly three weeks, I’ll be enjoying the sweet sounds of The Resignation from the middle of the crowd with all the other non-pregnant Rx fans. And though I’ll admit that I don’t solely eat, sleep and breathe to go to Rx shows anymore, I am truly excited to see what this reunion will bring. How will the songs have morphed from the last time I heard them live? How will the lack of Borth and Sheets (even if there are other horns) play out? Are there new songs? IS THERE A NEW ALBUM IN THE WORKS?! Most of all, I just can’t wait to see those damn Bandits take their rightful spots back on the stage.

Rx Bandits have been the first to say that they have the greatest fans in the world, and I am so ecstatic to be among their numbers. I’m sure there are thousands of other fans out there with similar hilarious, tragic, face-melting, and life-changing Rx stories. These are mine. And I can’t wait to add another one to the pile.

Take off your shoes baby, it’s time for dancing.
 

"matt steve joe" by Mason Fetzer
Spray paint on plexiglass www.masonfetzer.com

Mason's 2011 Pumpkin

Mine is not worth posting or even mentioning this year.  So without further ado, here is Mason's masterpiece!

3-piece

Check out this epic painting Mason did. Our good friend Chris commissioned it for a wedding present.  Chris is the guitarist.  I really love the way this one turned out, particularly the wood background, and how Mason made the guitar and bass look like they are made of wood. 

The drums look so awesome with all the metal parts and highlights, but I’ll tell ya what, that stencil (particularly the white layer) took sooooooo long.  It was an all-nighter for sure. I kept coming out to the kitchen to check on Mason each time Townes woke up for a feeding, and for two of the feedings, he was still working on the white layer.  Yeah.  That’s 6 hours on ONE layer.  Let alone the time it took to cut the other layers, prep the wood, build the frame, and paint the other layers.  But it was definitely worth the time.  The happy couple loved their present, and the other two members of the band ended up ordering a painting of their own as well.

None But Some Falling Rain

Two of our bestest friends, Cameron and Chamonix got married on October 1.  The wedding was simply perfect and I honestly can't think of a better match than those two.  Mason painted them the picture below as their wedding gift, and I LOVE the way it turned out. It's on wood and plexi (which he hasn't used in awhile).  Happy wedding to the Johnstons!

23 Days Later

“All newborns do is eat, sleep, and poop.”  I’d heard this adage many times but didn’t really think much of it until I had a little eater, sleeper and pooper of my own.  Let me tell you, kids: it’s true.  And all three happen so frequently that the parents of said newborns are dealing with this eating, sleeping AND pooping every 2-3 hours.  But you know what?  It’s paradise.  Of course I am sleep-deprived and of course I have only done my hair and put on actual clothing four times in the past three weeks….but that is all well and wonderful because I haven’t had to go to work.  I may be singing a different tune when I’m up for three nighttime feedings and have an 8:00 conference call, but for now, I am so happy being a mom.  I’m trying not to think of what comes next and just enjoy this time at home with my boys.

So many hilarious, frightening and heart-wrenchingly cute moments have happened since Townes was born.  I’ve heard that this time passes so quickly and it’s so hard to remember what they were like when they were tiny, so I’ll try to recount some of our favorite bite-sized memories from these first weeks.

• Little grunter—Townes makes the sweetest little noises when he’s sleeping, or stirring from sleep. The best is his high-pitched little sigh with every exhale.  He sounds so content and so satisfied.  And on the other end of the cute spectrum are his grunts. The poor guy sounds like he’s trying to poop out something twice his size and works himself into such a frenzy. He grunts for 15 minutes at a time, and it’s so sad for mom and dad to listen to. They say that lots of babies grunt as they are learning to work their digestive systems, but come on! You are pooping out the equivalent (and lookalike) of two tablespoons of Inglehoffer stone ground mustard.  Take it easy, kid!

• Our baby genius--Townes spoke his first word at two weeks old! And do you know what it was?  “Carly.”  Of course.  We had high hopes for this kid, but he is really setting the bar high now.  At this rate, he will have his first PhD at age 7.  OK, OK I know he didn’t really say my name, it was probably a combination of a grunt and a hiccup but I swear to you (as Mason is my witness), it REALLY sounded like “Carly” and we laughed for a good 10 minutes.
• You are getting sleeeeeeeepy—He is one tired kid, I tell ya. I’ve been working hard at keeping him awake during and after feedings to help regulate his sleeping and waking cycles (this is supposedly going to help him sleep through the night sooner—we’ll see about that), but it is not an easy job.  Once you give this kid a boob, he falls asleep faster than you can say “lactation.”  The best pattern for him is 10 minutes of nursing on one side, then a rousing diaper change, followed by 10 minutes on the other side, but even then you have to hire a marching band to keep him mostly awake.  It might sound like borderline child abuse to you, but we’ve resorted to tickling his feet, rubbing his face with a wet washcloth, singing horrible songs like Smashmouth’s “All Star” to him, and blowing in his ears.  Please don’t call Child Protective Services on us.
• Baby burrito—Townes loves to be swaddled up and wrapped super-tight in his blanket.  He sleeps so much better when his hands are confined; it’s sort of like a super cute mini straight jacket.  We call him our baby burrito, and from time to time, you also must check to see if there are any beans in said burrito.  Mason sings hilarious and adorable songs to him while “burrito-ing him up" for the night.   The best burrito song without a doubt is “Baby Burrito” sung to the tune of Raffi’s “Baby Beluga.”  If you need a reminder of how that song goes, let our friends Danny and Stephanie Tanner remind you:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G0rInDa39l8

• Reach for the sky—When he’s not burrito’d up, his favorite sleeping position is with his arms above his head, like he’s being robbed at gunpoint.

• Pee and poo fountains—We’d been warned about baby boys suddenly having the urge to pee right when the diaper comes off.  And despite advanced warnings, I was still so shocked when the first “pee fountain” erupted and sprayed the wall, the changing table, Townes’ face, Mason’s hair, etc.  After a few times, we learned how to combat the pee fountain, but the poo fountain was a different beast.  Mason was changing the diaper alone the first time old faithful erupted and all I heard was a “HOLY SH*%!” and then laughter coming from the nursery.  When he came out and I asked him what was so funny, he broke into song.  Picture this to the tune of Cat Stevens’ “Moonshadow”:  “I’m being followed by a poo fountain.  Poo fountain, poo fountain.” 
• Townes’ first prescription—The saddest thing ever is when your perfect little baby gets an imperfection: crusty eyes.  Clogged tear ducts happen to a lot of newborns, simply because the ducts are so tiny, and it causes this greenish-yellow goop/crust to form around their eyes.  The crust was pretty minimal the first couple of weeks, but then it suddenly got realllllly bad.  Hey kids! Want to freak your mom out? Simply wake up from a nap, and when your mom goes to wipe the crust off of your eyes, spring a giant green pus leak out of your right eye!  I seriously panicked.  We called the doctor and got some antibiotic ointment sent to the pharmacy. It would most likely clear up on its own, but hopefully this will help it clear up faster.  I’m really anti-pus.
• Surprise Kitty—If you haven’t seen this yet, you need to:

Townes does the same thing whenever he’s surprised, has a bad dream, gets a cold wipe to the nads, or we go over a bump in the stroller.  It’s adorable.  Almost as adorable as when the kitty does it.

• Lullabies won’t work on this kid—We’ve played a lot of private concerts for Townes and he really loves the music.  He just sits and listens to Dad play the guitar, totally wide-eyed and alert.  I thought I’d be really clever one night and sing him some songs to help him get to sleep while I rocked him.  I sang one, he was still awake, so I sang another, and another….and another.  Still awake.  I finally stopped singing and he fell right to sleep.  Moral of the story: lullabies will only keep this kid awake.
• Baby zits—These should be outlawed.  I know they are super common but they are even more disconcerting than grown-up zits (if that’s possible).  How dare my baby’s flawless complexion and super-smoothness be compromised!  The best remedy is to just leave them alone and they will heal themselves but it is very tempting to pop the teeny tiny whiteheads.  Alas, I have resisted and I will continue to resist.
• Stubborn tummy button—They say the umbilical cord stump should fall of between 7-10 days, but here we are at day 23 and that ugly thing is still there.  Patience.
• Visitors—Townes is like, so popular.  All the cool kids want to hang out with him.  We’ve been so lucky to have so many of our family and friends want to come gawk at his cuteness.  The best thing about having a newborn is that people come to you—you don’t hafta go nowhere.  He’s so used to excessive company that sometimes, he can’t even be bothered to open his eyes when guests arrive.  What a diva. 
• Outings—Townes’ very first outing was to the pediatrician’s office, but since then he’s been other illustrious destinations like: Mason’s parents’ house, my brother’s house, the grocery store, the AT&T store, the Saab shop, and Home Depot! He’s a little world traveler.  The most fun outing by far was downtown to Gallery Stroll.  Mason painted another wall/mural at Higher Ground Learning and had lots of art hanging, so we had to take Townes to see Dad’s show.  Of course.

• Grandpa Fetzer’s bassinet—When Mason was born, his Grandpa John Fetzer made him a bassinet.  Out of wood.  With his hands.  It’s stayed in the family since then, and we were lucky enough to be able to lend it to Townes for a few months.  The craftsmanship totally boggles my mind—it’s such a gorgeous piece.

• Mason is the hottest dad EVER—I don’t have to tell you ladies out there how attractive a man holding a baby is.  There’s just something so beautiful about it, and Mason is no exception. 

• I read MOM books now—Yep.  What a cliché.  I currently have 3 parenting/mom books on my nightstand, and all my online reading as of late has been of the same subject matter.  Hey, it just happens.  It will happen to you too.  Thankfully, I just got the September issues of both Vogue and W in the mail, so I have some sort of connection to the real world.
• Davis Blvd.—Ever since Townes turned a week old, we’ve been going on a walk every night.  He looks so cute in his little stroller and he really loves to be outside.  He never cries or fusses and most of the time (if we’re lucky), he’ll stay awake, which leads to better night sleep later on.  Bountiful is famous for its hilly neighborhoods and before and during pregnancy I LOVED to conquer the intense hills.  It’s such a great workout.  Alas, because I’m still healing from the great push of 2011, and the 45-degree hills are a little much for me, we’re staying on the mostly flat Davis Blvd.  For now.  But just you wait a couple of weeks, hills, and I’ll be back.  Be afraid, be very afraid.
• Froggy face—When Townes is hungry, he turns into a little froggy, trying to catch flies.  His adorable little mouth opens and shuts, and he sticks his tongue out repeatedly. So rather than even ask each other “do you think he’s hungry?” we just say, “is he making his froggy froggy face?”  We’ve tried to catch it on video, but haven’t been super successful yet.  In the meantime, here is a picture of him looking like a froggy after his bath.

• Those darn hiccups—He got the hiccups at least twice a day in utero, and nothing has changed in the outside world.  It breaks my heart to see his whole body convulse with each hiccup.  Sometimes he’ll let out a fart/poop when he hiccups.  These are called hiccupoops.
• Weight Watchers—He is killin’ it in the growth department.  Most newborns will be 7-8 ounces below their birth weight at four days old and Townes was only one ounce down.  Huzzah!  At his 1.5 week appointment he was up a whole pound (9 pounds) and an inch (22 inches).  I guess he’s figured out the whole eating scenario.  He already looks so different from when he was born, I can see his cheeks filling out and his little legs getting chubby. 
• Smiler—They say that babies don’t actually smile for social reasons (like being happy) until they are a couple of months old, but damn, our kid has an adorable smile.  Who cares why he’s doing it, I love seeing my little smiler, even if it is in his sleep or while he’s poopin’.  It just melts my heart.
• Facebooking in the middle of the night—I have Facebook on my phone and I’ll usually check it a few times a day while I’m out and about, waiting in line, etc.  However, I’ve now resorted to purposefully avoiding my News Feed like the plague allllllll day long, and saving that precious browsing for the 1:00 am and 4:00 am feedings.  It really helps the time go by faster and keeps me from falling asleep on the job. Don’t worry, I have at least six other feedings during the day in which to bond with him and stare at him endlessly while he eats.  I’m not a bad mom or anything.
• Skin to skin—I already wrote about those first few amazing minutes of Townes’ life when they laid him on my chest and we made eye contact.  Since then, letting him sleep on my chest is a guilty pleasure that I can’t get enough of.  There’s nothing in the world like feeling your baby’s breath on your skin while he sleeps.
• I’m more in love than ever…even though there is no love MAKING—If you didn’t already know about the love-making rules after you have a baby, let me enlighten you.  No coitus (my favorite word from "The Big Lebowski") for 5-6 weeks! Yes, WEEKS.  However, I’ve never been more in love with my husband of 8 years than I am right now.  I already mentioned how good-looking he is with a baby strapped to him, but it’s definitely more than that.  It’s the way he talks to Townes, the care he takes in holding and snuggling him,  the jokes he makes and songs he sings when he changes his diaper, and the way he’s jumped into fatherhood without looking back.  Until we start pumping and bottle feeding him, there isn’t much that Dad can do during the middle-of-the-night feedings, but Mason still insists that I wake him up at each feeding.  That way he can do the diaper change, get me more water or another spit up rag, change the laundry, or any of the other fun chores that come up in the pitch black.  I am so lucky to have a partner that wants to (and does) take part in every minute detail of our baby’s life.  I’m obviously hormonal and super cheesy right now, but I really can’t say enough about my man.  I thought I loved him when he was my husband. I had no idea how I’d feel when he was a father.  I gots me the best babydaddy there is.

...and then there were 3

So.  We have a child.  I gave birth. There is now a baby that lives in our house with us.  How did this happen?!?!?!  I mean, I know about the birds and the bees, I know HOW it happened, but seriously, how did this happen?!  It still seems slightly insane to me that we are now parents, even though I’ve had 10 months of warning signs and preparatory signals. You think I’d be used to the idea by now, but I’m really not.  I still catch myself about 9 times a day saying to Mason, “Do you get it?” I look over at our perfect little son and I say, “How is he so beautiful?”  and “Is he really ours?”  It’s bliss and lunacy. It’s miraculous and terrifying.  And now that our little bub is here, I wanted to take some time to write about his arrival into this mad world of ours.  I realize this is the longest post in Christendom, but come on, your firstborn son is only born once.  You'd better write all about it, or the details will get fuzzy.

I was due on Saturday July 30, but had a feeling that he would be late.  However, I was thinking maybe 2 or 3 days late…..mmmm notsomuch.  Monday morning came and I decided that I might as well keep working and save those precious days off, so my midwife wrote me a note to work from home until the big day arrived.  I kept working until our non-stress test (NST) on Tuesday afternoon.  Once you’re overdue, they like to monitor the bebe to make sure that he’s still thriving in the womb, and that the placenta is still doing its job.  We got to see him on an ultrasound (for the first time since the 20-week mark) and he passed his tests with FLYING colors.  So the good news was that he was still a happy camper at Lake Uterus, but the bad news was that he was so comfortable, he could be planning on staying there for at least another week.  We headed over to my mom’s pool to celebrate our little overachiever, to see aunts and cousins in town, and to let Mom float in the pool like a manatee or whale of some kind. 

I worked all day Wednesday and then had an appointment with my midwife to see if anything was shakin’ down under.  I was dilated to 2.5 and about 50% effaced…but sadly, no real signs that said “you will be going into labor tonight.”  She also commented that I had a “weird” cervix, which I found to be hilarious.  She said it felt dilated to a 3 in one area, but just over a 2 in another.  She actually had to draw us a picture when I asked her how dilated I was.  That’s always a good sign, right? When your healthcare professional resorts to doodling on a prescription pad to try to make sense of your mutant body?  Yeah, I thought so too.  She called up to LDS Hospital to see if they could schedule me to be induced on Friday; but I found out that I was at the bottom of a list of 10 others, so it most likely wouldn’t be until Monday.  In the meantime we had another NST scheduled for Friday morning, so we just kept twiddlin’ our thumbs and fondlin’ our laptops.

But that wasn’t all we were doing, no sir.  We read all the tall tales about how to jumpstart labor, but knew that truly, he was going to come whenever he decided to come and there wasn’t much that we could do about it.  Though, eating pineapple was a delicious diversion. Of all the suggestions online and in books, it seemed that only two of them were actually medically proven to have any effect whatsoever, and those were:  going for walks and having sex.  So you’d better believe that we were doing both on a daily basis, sometimes squeezing in two-a-days. 

Alas, the sun rose on Thursday morning and I was still great with child.  5 days overly great with child.  If I sound like I was complaining, I really wasn’t.  I was sooooo lucky to still be in such high spirits and feeling relatively normal.  I wasn’t deathly uncomfortable physically, but both Mason and I were pretty much going CRAZY with anticipation.  We were trying to enjoy our last few days of sleep and freedom, but when it came down to it, we really just wanted to meet our baby boy.  We worked side-by-side on Thursday and then decided to get Chinese for dinner.  Mason’s fortune cookie said “You are almost there.” Mine said, “It doesn’t take guts to quit.”  Hmmmm…

Friday morning, my alarm was set for 8:03 so that we could get to our NST by 9:45, but my phone rang at 7:45.  It was LDS, telling us that EVERYONE ahead of us on the list had already had their babies and that we were now at the top of the list to be induced.  Could we come in at 9:00?  HOLY CRAP BALLS.  After complaining all week that he was making us wait forever, we suddenly felt very unprepared.  We hurried and scurried to get ready, grabbed the hospital bag and sped to LDS .  They checked me into our labor and delivery room, I changed into my cute delivery gown and slippers (heaven forbid I wear the open-back tent and hideous blue ankle socks that were provided J), and by 10:00, we were ready to go. 

They hooked me up to the IV and started me on pitocin (to artificially start the contractions), an antibiotic, and some fluids for hydration.  I barfed within the first few minutes of having the IVs.  Yum! They also had two external monitors on my belly: one for little dude’s heartbeat and one to track the contractions.  With all those gadgets and gizmos tying me down, it was all I could do to have Mase and the nurse re-wire me every hour or so to get up and go pee.  I had sort of pictured labor to be a mobile time, where I could walk around and switch positions to deal with the contractions, but the IV and such pretty much had me lying flat in bed.  Luckily—my girl Tiff had leant me the box set of Sex and the City—all six seasons.  I have seen them all before, but having a distraction like that totally saved me from going cuckoo banana crackers during contractions.  Side note:  remember when you were younger and your mom would ALWAYS walk in the room right at the part of the movie that you didn’t want her to see?  The sex scene, the swearing portion, etc?  That was happening to us all day with Sex and the City, it was hilarious.  Samantha’s naked again?  Queue the nurse to come in and check on my IV….

After a few hours, my contractions weren’t as strong as they would’ve liked them to be, so they called my midwife to come up and break my water to get things rollin.  But before she broke my water, it was the perfect time to get an epidural if I wanted one.  Did I want one?  UM, YES.  Much love to those people who choose to give birth au naturale, but I’m not a masochist.  I’m not going to win a medal for doing it unmedicated.  So, I listened to my fortune cookie from the night before and found out that, in all actuality, it didn’t take any guts to quit.  Nope, none at all.  Mason said that watching me get the epidural was a bit scary, but it really wasn’t bad for me.  The first shot to numb you locally is the only thing you really feel.  I did hear a POP when the needle punctured the dural layer of my spine, and that was pretty cool if not a little frightening; but definitely not painful.  The numbing happened pretty quickly after that.  She broke my water with what looked like a plastic knitting needle. Then the contractions got super intense….or so the monitor said. I couldn’t feel a thing and it was superb!  All the discomfort I was feeling, all the pain, all the shifting of positions….all of that stopped and it was just quiet and wonderful.

Though I loathe even numbers and didn’t really want our little man to have an even-numbered birthday, August 6^th is a very important day.  As the clock hands passed midnight and his birthday changed from August 5^th to August 6^th, I shed a little tear because he’d be sharing his birthday with my dear, sweet little sister Mackenzie.  We never thought that he could possibly be a week late, but it suddenly seemed like it all happened on that timeline for a reason.  I pictured her with him up in heaven, holding on to his little hand for just a few more hours so that he could be born on her special day.  We told our nurse about Mackenzie and why we’d be OK with going past midnight and she started crying as well.  “Coincidentally,” she had a little sister who also passed away a few years ago, and she understood more than anyone else on staff at the hospital could have.  And she was our nurse, in the wee hours of a random Saturday morning.  J

We watched a few more episodes of SATC and the nurse came to check my dilation.  We were pretty much at a 10! Hooray! It was about 12:30 and she guessed that we’d be ready to start pushing around 1:30.  So the next hour gave him time to “rest and descend” and be alllll ready and in the ideal position for the big push.  Mason went out to the car to get some CDs so we could have some tunes instead of episodes.  I was feeling very tired and hungry after 15 hours of labor, but the news that the end was in sight really helped keep me calm and focused.   I never went through the phase where I yelled at Mason, told him not to touch me, or screamed, “YOU DID THIS TO ME!!!!” and I think the epidural was responsible for that.  He was amazing and supportive the entire time and we were happy, in love, and ready for what was coming next.

I made an awesome playlist on my iPod for delivery but the hospital only had a DVD player that played SOME CDs;  not burned CDs, mind you, which made up 90% of the CDs we had in the car.  The only real, non-burned CDs that we had were Snoop Dogg, Maylene and the Sons of Disaster, and two RX Bandits albums.  We thought it appropriate that RX would be the first music that he would hear when he came into this world; considering that they had been the last live band he’d heard in utero.  (I need to blog about that—I will.)  So we turned on “…And the Battle Begun” and waited for the battle to begin.  Around 2:00, the nurse came in and asked me to push just a little bit so she could see how close his head was, and if it was time to go wake my midwife.  I pushed just barely and she started yelling “OK, STOP PUSHING! His head is RIGHT there!”

Everyone got scrubbed up and in the right positions.  There was a mirror angled just so, so that I could see what was going on.  Mason was on my right side, holding my right leg, our nurse was holding my left leg, and my midwife was down in the bull pen.  We waited until we saw a contraction on the monitor (‘cause I was no help in telling when they were happening), and then the nurse guided me through the pushing.  It was a big inhale, pushing and holding my breath to the count of 10, and then exhaling. It’s pretty crazy not feeling ANYTHING below the waist and trying to control your muscles.  They had me do a crunch/sit-up during the count to 10 as well because that automatically contracts your abdominal muscles as well.  She had me do 3 sets of counting to 10, and then I rested until the next contraction.  After the first round, I felt like I couldn’t keep going.  And then I puked.  And then I felt lots better!  Ready for round 2.  Ding ding!

Round 2 was much more successful, and I saw his head crowning in the mirror.  He had hair!  This was awesome news because I was a totally bald baby.  Seeing his little head with hair on it gave me so much encouragement, so I kept on truckin.  Round 3 and 4 were more of the same, but round 5 got his fat little head out, and the rest of his body came out easily after that.  At 2:39 a.m. on August 6^th, our amazing and beautiful little boy was born.  The lights were off, except for a low spotlight down THERE for the midwife.  It was so quiet and so still in that little room at LDS Hospital.   I could see the sparkling lights of the Avenues from the window, all the way up to the University on the hill.  I loved that he was born in our city.  I expected some loud cries, but for the most part, our little love was quiet as well.  They laid him directly on my bare chest, covered in goo, and it was wondrous.  They were rubbing him with towels and blankets to get the vernix off, and to get the blood circulating to his beautiful skin.  I couldn’t believe it.  I was utterly speechless and bawling.  I definitely was crying more than he was.  Those few minutes right after his birth are kind of a blur, but I remember the nurses talking about his APGAR scores: 8 and then a 9 (way to go, kid!).  I was so distracted because I had the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, lying on my chest, staring directly into my eyes.  It was so powerful to lock eyes with that little being, yet it made me feel so small simultaneously.  Mason was leaning over my shoulder and I saw our baby’s gaze shift from me to his father—more tears.  He still really hadn’t even cried, he was just staring at us.  What an amazing and calm little soul.  Mason said he had my eyes.

My midwife started pulling on the umbilical cord and she said she felt like a magician pulling a scarf out of a hat—my cord was MILES long.  Weird.  Then it came time to deliver the placenta.  She told me not to push with all of my vim and vigor, because the thing would fly across the room and hit the window if I did. Come on, placenta humor, that’s FUNNY.  So I barely pushed and out it came.  It was fascinating to see the whole amniotic sac with the placenta inside.  My midwife held it up and showed us both sides—the side attached to me, and the side attached to the baby.  I’m sooooo glad I have a husband that’s not grossed out by all that stuff.  He was just as fascinated (if not more so) than I was and cut the cord like a champ when it was time.

They took him off of me to do some more suctioning from his airways, weigh and measure him, and put him on the warmer for a couple of minutes.  He was 8 pounds even (OK, I guess even numbers aren’t SO bad) and 21 inches long.  My midwife stitched me up (YOWZA) while Mason followed our little man around with the camera, and then they laid him back on my chest.  Right where he belonged.  At barely 10 minutes old, he found his way to my breast and started suckling.  I looked over at Mason in pure amazement and said, “How does he know how to do that???” I know the word “miracle” is so cliché, especially when referring to new little babies, but hey, clichés are cliché for a reason.  It was nothing short of a miracle—the whole process. 

Ever since we found out I was pregnant, I’d really only cared about two aesthetic characteristics on our little fetus: I wanted him to have Mason’s full lips, and Mason’s beautiful hands.  Lucky us—he got them both.  His fingers are long and beautiful and his rosebud lips are the sweetest things I ever did see.

My midwife gave me a big hug and called me “wonder woman” for only pushing for a half hour and we were ready to be transferred from the delivery room to our postpartum room.  LDS plays a little lullaby over the loud speakers throughout the whole hospital every time a new family is moved to their postpartum room, and we heard ours as they wheeled me down the hall.  Whew, big sigh of relief, we made it.  Once in our room, I fed him again, and we got situated for some much-needed sleep. 

In the morning, they asked us if we had decided on a name.  We talked it over, and we were finally ready to commit to the one we had been contemplating for over 2 years:  Townes August Fetzer.  Townes is for Townes Van Zandt, an amazing country folk singer that we both love.  August is Mason’s middle name, and it’s also his Grandpa Bob’s middle name.  Grandpa Bob had passed away 2 weeks prior, so that name carried all the more significance. 

Townes Van Zandt by Mason Fetzer (of course)

He is finally ours.  Our little Townes.  We love you, little dude.