Randy Wood

Randy Wood’s amazing voice grooved my son into this world.

A little bit about my son–he’s very stubborn. There’s times now, at 3 years old, that he stands in front of me, eyes full of tears and his brow furrowed. He’s glaring at me. I tell him sternly, “You’re gonna stand on the wall!!” or “I’m gonna smack your hand!”

He keeps glaring at me as if to say, “I dare you.”

We do that little dance for everything–to let me comb/braid his hair, to get him to finish his food. He’s a good kid; the rumor is that he’s not nearly as rotten as I was. My aunties did not want me around my cousins–they thought that I would corrupt them. My son’s aunties and uncles cannot wait to see him (as an aside, I think that even if my son wereextremely rotten, his aunties and uncles would STILL want him around–they just love little kids. Heck, EVERYONE loves little kids except my grandma. Therefore it makes me contemplate exactly how bad I had to have been to make them not want to be around me. Just a thought.).

He just has a mind of his own–he wants to do everything on his own time.

The one thing/person that makes him get off his timetable and get to action?? Randy Wood.

My son’s labor lasted 49 hours. A coincidence?? I think not; he was made for the roundance.

We were prepared to make labor a beautiful thing–food, candles, tasty beverages, comfortable clothes and round dance music. We had a selection of music–but somewhere between the 5th hour of labor and the 25th, the Randy Wood CD started to be the “go-to” one. As things got a bit more painful and laborious, his voice got more and more relaxing.

Labor was taking wayyyy too long–it’s safe to say that it wasn’t “beautiful” anymore. Especially for my son’s mother. See, just like me, my boy has a big old head. True, we didn’t know how enormous his dome was at the time…but we suspected that it might have some serious circumference. As an FYI, we had no clue whether my eventual son was going to be a girl or a boy; my friends thought that I would probably have a girl as some sort of “karma” deal–for all the girls that I noogied or pantsed as a kid. But no girl–and my son’s large noggin caused his labor to go from being measured in “hours” to being measured in “days.”

My boy was stubborn. He simply was not ready to face the world–he had too much going on inside his mother’s womb apparently. As the time got more precarious and the possibility of a cesarean more likely, we put the volume higher on the Randy Wood CD. See, my lovely mom–my boy’s grandma–had been singing to my son since he was first conceived. He knows Indian music. He recognizes Indian music. Maybe he’ll wiggle out, grass dance style, into the hands of his absolutely terrified dad.

He did. Randy Wood worked. In the 49th hour, my boy came out to the welcoming sounds of 49 music. He was created for the roundance. To this day–3 years old–I put on 50 Cent?? Doesn’t want anything to do with it. The Police?? Nothing. Tears for Fears?? Stray Cats?? Teddy Pendergrass?? Natch.

Some good pow-wow music or round dance music or peyote music?? Loves it.

All thanks to Randy Wood. I thank you for the safe birth of my beautiful son.

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Published in: on February 1, 2010 at 6:40 am  Comments (6)  

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6 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Beautiful song and such a wonderful memory for you and your family. You must have contacted Randy Wood to let him know his role in all of that? Thank you for sharing such a personal memory with us.

  2. Awwwwww
    New life kicks ass.
    You should tell Mr. Wood.

    And about your family not liking you, well it’s not cause you were bad your just not nearly as cute as your baby…lol

  3. […] here:  Randy Wood « Thing About Skins and Other Curios Share and […]

  4. Aw that was a good one! I bet everytime u hear it, you’re instantly brought back to the day ur son was born. 🙂

  5. Nice music…

  6. this was a touching (and painful!) tribute to one of the voices that brought our babe into this world. it brought tears to my eyes, just as the words/music of Mr. Wood brings, each and every time I hear his voice. I’m always instantly transported back to those days, debating entrance times with our stubborn kiddo.


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