Best Medicine: The benefits (as well as the horrible realities) of raising a child in Asheville

Dear readers,

There’s so much to catch you up on! First and foremost — surprise! I’m now “with child.” Meaning, yes, I accidentally got knocked up during Helene. I’m now hurtling headfirst into the whirlwind of impending parenthood — equal parts terrified and excited, often within the same breath.

Naturally, I figured if there was ever a time to tap into the collective wisdom (and comic relief) of Asheville’s funniest parents, this is it.

Gracing the pages of Mountain Xpress this month is none other than Ryan Cox — lovingly dubbed Asheville’s Comedy Papa. (OK, no one’s actually called him that yet, but I think it’s time we start.) Ryan has perfected the art of turning the beautiful chaos of parenthood into relatable, sidesplitting gold on stages all over Western North Carolina.

Next up is the sweet, sharp, and hilarious Erin Terry — a powerhouse mom to a 4-year-old who somehow still finds time to produce her brilliant, female-focused Eyes Up Here comedy shows around town.

And finally, the one and only Becca Steinhoff — supermom, stand-up comedian and proud owner of both an endless supply of wisdom and an endless supply of poopy diapers and spit-up rags (because parenting is nothing if not glamorous).

I’m going to be frank, here. My partner is also a comedian, and we made the decision to see the pregnancy through because we were both in desperate need of new material. So far, it’s proved to be the right choice. Our prodigal son isn’t due until the end of July, but being pregnant has shaped my comedy in that it’s literally all I ever think about. 

Thus, all of my material — sketch comedy and stand-up — revolves around my newly developing or temporarily stunted bodily functions, my growing bump and the intense hormonal mood swings I experience on a daily basis. I’m sure people are sick of hearing about it, but there is SO MUCH to talk about. I could write a 45-minute set on the constipation alone. Of course, if I did, I would be exiled. 

Cayla: I’m curious, how has parenthood inspired or shaped your comedy?

Becca: Given that my 11-month-old son, Jacob, is my primary audience these days, I would have to say it’s really forced me to hone my timing and finally embrace act-outs more. He’s not yet amused with a good turn of phrase. He’ll laugh at a word spoken in a silly voice but not the double entendre that took me a week to figure out. It’s frustrating, I’m not gonna lie. He is just not my target demographic, and I can’t work like this.

Also, having only one crowd member really puts a damper on the contagious nature of laughter. He’s more focused on his teeth coming in, which makes it really hard to get my laughs per minute. I get it, he’s a near-toddler, but I’ve worked hard for years to be here, and I’m now getting less rapt attention than a board book that oinks.

Ryan: I didn’t start stand-up until after my first kid was born. I was reading her books out loud one night, trying to make animal sounds to get a laugh, when I realized I needed to up my voice game.  

Becca: So yours was a tough crowd too; that’s good to know. 

Ryan: Oh, the toughest. This led to a tangential addiction to pursuing my voice onstage away from my family a few nights a week. It’s nice to let the devil out somewhere. At The Odd, I can be a different kind of nutcase and balance out the daytime career dad guy.

Erin: By day: daytime career dad guy. By night: a local comedian performing for four drunk people in the back of a very loud bar. He is … Captain Existential Crisis. 

Ryan: Yes, or Captain Bedtime Bits. I have found that with kids you have less time to do what you want, which can help you spend your time more wisely. I love stand-up so much and I probably wouldn’t prioritize it the same way if I didn’t have the pressure of balancing comedy hours with family.

Erin: I truly hate to say this, but being a parent doesn’t help my comedy at all. My comedy career has always reflected my own personal shortcomings and bad decisions. But being a mama to my 4-year-old has been the most fulfilling adventure I’ve ever dreamed of. It turns out it’s hard to make jokes about how happy I am. Kidding aside, parenthood keeps me from hitting as many open mics as I used to, but that’s OK. I consider that a WIN.

Becca: Same, girl, same. 

Erin:  I had my baby right at the tail end of the pandemic, right when the vaccines were becoming available, which means I was never really in public while I was pregnant. I never got to smack away anybody’s hands who dared to try and touch my belly. I was really hoping for that as comedy material. Sigh. 

Cayla: Speaking of being pregnant in public (and Erin, I’m truly sorry you were robbed of that magical experience), let me just say — Asheville is a wild place to be with child. I cannot walk down the street without someone earnestly asking me, “So, what are you planning to do with your placenta?” What are you talking about? I’m going to let the doctor throw it in the trash. (Just kidding, I’ve obviously been peer-pressured into either encapsulating it or grinding it up with some locally foraged herbs to make artisanal, small-batch placenta sausage.)

I’ve also been gifted mountains of (completely unsolicited) advice — everything from where to find the most ethereal coochie doula in the WNC area to why free birthing in a moonlit forest is the only “aligned” choice. In what ways is raising children in Asheville a unique experience? In what ways is it challenging?

Becca: I don’t find Hurricane Helene funny, but humor as a defense mechanism is a hard habit to break. In that regard, baby’s first natural disaster was not the worst at only 6 months old. Peekaboo got a lot easier as the sun would set, dictating when we could no longer peek nor boo. He had just started solids a mere two days before Helene. I was able to go from “I’m going to steam carrots!” to “This puree is shelf-stable for six months, and it’s free!” without guilt or shame, so that was nice.

He will have an incredible story he only remembers through osmosis. A story where his home and family survived, his mom chose not to evacuate and took care of him without water, power and internet for three weeks. “The internet was mostly for mama, but still it seemed important,” he will muse. 

Ryan: I’ve never raised a kid anywhere besides Asheville, but these kids seem to get more validation than I did.  Maybe that’s just a sign of the times? I don’t resent them for it, because they know the planet’s going to die tomorrow, so they’re already riddled with fear and anxiety. All the environmental awareness is a lot for a kid to process. Sometimes I worry my kids will never earn money or move out because Asheville tells them to follow their dreams every day.  

Cayla: Ugh, so true. I grew up in a place where I was allowed to follow my dreams, too, and I studied playwriting in college, and now I’m poor. 

Erin: Raising my 4-year-old in Asheville has its pros and cons, though I don’t regret moving him here from Raleigh when he was just over a year old. We get lots of time outside (pro), but there aren’t as many indoor experiences when it’s raining or cold or a hurricane has aimed its path right at the mountains (con). Honestly, Asheville is a fine place to have a toddler, but it’s way harder to make mom-friends because many folks on the playgrounds don’t even live here.

Cayla: I want to be your mom-friend, Erin. It’ll be fun. We can bring our kids to the playgrounds and yell at outsiders to go back to where they came from. It’ll be really cute and local. 

Cayla: Something I’ve been thinking about a lot is, as Ryan mentioned earlier, the inevitable and quickly approaching death of planet Earth. I know that having a kid right now isn’t exactly brilliant, but I do think an extra set of hands (no matter how tiny) will be quite useful as we board up windows, stash canned beans in our makeshift bunker and train our house cats to shuck corn. When the apocalypse finally takes full effect (experts are predicting we will be in full apocalypse mode by 2032), how will having children be beneficial?

Becca:  Experts are predicting 2032, but my money is on next week.

My son doesn’t know it yet, but he is going to be very useful in the apocalypse. Wood cutting, farming, churning butter. I think I’ll try and get him into archery for when we’re hunter-gathering again. Like you said, Cayla, I’ve been looking for an extra pair of strong hands for a while, so I figured, why not just grow my own? Of course, he can have his own interests — as long as they align with off-grid survival. Maybe he’ll want to be a paramedic or a cook or the guy who reads maps when it’s time to flee. As long as it’s useful, I support him.

Erin: Honestly, I don’t think having kids will be beneficial at all. By then, I’ll be eating my own hat and sending heartfelt congratulations to all my childless friends who clearly made the right call. Meanwhile, I’ll be apologizing to my son, saying, “I’m so sorry. I really thought humanity had more in it.” And then we’ll just quietly lie down like the old couple on the Titanic — except probably in an abandoned Whole Foods.

Ryan: Wait, hold up … is 2032 a real statistic? Feck. I guess I should stop contributing to my 401(k) (which, to be clear, is NOT from comedy — I do have a secret day job I never talk about). Honestly, I just decided I’m done teaching my kids about delayed gratification. “You want 14 cookies for breakfast? Sure, buddy. The world’s on fire. Go nuts.” “You aren’t in the mood to clean your room? Word, don’t clean it. Rooms are dumb anyways. Soon, we’ll all be living in Cayla’s makeshift bunker eating cold canned beans with sticks anyway.”