Hi, this is Kori Gardner. Jason Hammel and I are married, and our band
is called Mates of State. This year, we put out our fourth full-length
record, said goodbye to our family cat, sold our house and toured the
world. We played Coachella with Madonna, swam in the fountain of youth
in Iceland, covered Kenny Loggins and David Bowie, and had our car
broken into more than once. We did it all with our two-year-old
daughter, Magnolia. And now you can read all about it in weekly
installments! First, a quick compare-and-contrast:
Touring before you have a child . . .
An
hour before you leave, pack backpack with three outfits. Sleep on
floors. Party every night. Get a cold. Take two-hour nap in the van
before the show. Drive ten hours a day, get to the club, eat. Wait.
Wait. Wait.
Get very bored. Load equipment into club. Wait. Wait. Wait. Get even
more bored. Find clean place to use a public bathroom in private. Go
back to stage. Wait wait wait. Read books like The Dirt
by Neil Strauss. Search in vain for a TV. Talk to other bands (who are
also bored). Smoke cigarettes. Sound check. Kiss sound guy's butt so
his attitude doesn't ruin sound for the night. Eat again. Drink. Wait.
PLAY! WOO-HOO! ROCK OUT! Unplug. Load equipment out. Drive and find
cheap hotel. REPEAT.
Touring with a child...
Find hotels ahead
of tour with adjoining rooms and a pool. Rent van, pick up nanny, sound
guy and merch guy. Drive no more than four hours to first show while
child naps and then watches The Wiggles
DVD in the car three times in a row. Check into hotel. Let child ride
on luggage rack and make loud motor-type noise while pushing her and
ten pieces of luggage into hotel. Walk around hotel and race with child
to let her burn off energy. Find pool. Go swimming. Bribe child out of
pool with gummy bears.
Find
good restaraunt while others load in equipment. Convince child to sit
down and eat noodles, because she's a noodlehead and that's what
noodleheads do. Go back to club, do soundcheck while nanny plays
hide-and-seek around dirty rock club with child. Stop sound check for a
minute while child plays drums and sings songs for the opening band,
who think it's amazing. (It is amazing. She sings about the birthmark on her ankle to the tune of "Where is Thumbkin?")
Take
nanny and child back to hotel for bath and bed time. Get dressed. Do
not wear sweatpants, as husband says no more blaming sweatpants on "I
just had a child." Kiss daughter goodnight. Melt as she says she'll
play here while mommy and daddy go play music. Tell her you will crawl
in bed with her in a couple of hours. Get to club. Squeeze in
fifteen-minute nap in van. Wake up, eat a banana or chips and salsa so
you don't pass out while playing. PLAY! WOO-HOO! ROCK OUT! Unplug. Load
out.
Go back to hotel. Oops, wake up child. Get her back to
sleep. Shower. Fall asleep with ear plugs in and eye mask on. Wake up
bright and early to hear, "Mommy, I want to get up now and get some
apple juice." Bring child to nanny's room. Go back to sleep for two
hours. Wake up. Chase child outside for a while while the rest of the
crew gets all ten suitcases, toys and stroller-type items packed up.
Bribe child into van with new gas station toy.
REPEAT. Except add in dirty diapers, car-seat-in-rental-van problems and the occasional bookstore, library or playground stop.
Next week, we go to . . . Australia!
See this post in its original format here.