Month: January 2018

Exit stage left

When my children reach a finish line at various stages of life, I try not to get too sentimental about the fact that a chapter has closed.

Sure, some of them are easily celebrated – being done with diapers, being able to ride a bike without training wheels, and, of course, being able to respond to “I’m hungry!” with “Well, then make yourself something to eat.”

Others are tough, however.

Such as when you realize your child is no longer going to bring home school craft projects.

Or when your child drives off alone for the first time.

Or when you realize they are probably going to see that new superhero movie with their friends instead of you.

But I tell myself not to lament these closures. Rather, I tell myself to celebrate that my wife and I were able to successfully usher our kids to their next phase.

I found myself having a little bit tougher of a time not lamenting such a closure the other night, however.

I sat in a high school theater, watching my daughter take a bow onstage at the conclusion of the play “All Shook Up,” where she played Mayor Matilda.

And I said to myself, “This may be the last time I see her perform on stage.” At that point, the person to my left began cutting onions, and the person to my right blew dust in my face. Yes, that’s what I’m going with.

My daughter is a senior, and this was her final high school theater performance. She has been involved in theater since she was four, when she played a rabbit in a Winnie The Pooh play. (It was a tour-de-force performance, widely regarded as one of the greatest rabbit performances of all time, mainly because she was four and managed to not fall off the stage.)

She took to the stage naturally. Over the last 13 years, she has been consistently involved in some aspect of theater.

When she was 5, she auditioned for a role in “Best Christmas Pageant.” I took her up to the auditions and was pleased to see her taking an interest in it. I had done some theater when I was in high school, but drifted away from it in college.

As I sat back away from the auditions, letting her do her thing, the director realized that no men had come out to audition for the role of the dad. They asked me if I would read for the part, which I reluctantly did, mainly at my daughter’s urging. I got the part (yes, I realize I was cast out of a pool of one), and my daughter and I were soon on stage together.

Getting me back involved in theater soon led to my wife getting involved in theater. And with us came our son, and we spent the next decade with theater as our full-time, non-paying (but incredibly rewarding) jobs. Allie’s interest in theater was the snowball that brought us into that world, a gift she gave us that has had such a remarkable impact on our family over the years.

When we moved a week before her freshman year, she immediately found her tribe in the high school theater department, something that helped her transition into the scary world of starting high school in a completely new town.

But she’s a senior, and she is heading off to college next year. She has her eyes set on a major that is not theater. But as I can certainly attest, even if you get out of theater for a while, you can always get back in.

But I realized at that moment this was the last time I would see her on stage when we are a family of four under one roof. Because this chapter is closing. And as much as I want to be sad that it is closing, I have to remind myself that this is the best possible thing that can happen, because time only moves forward. So go write that next chapter, Allie Gibbons. And break a leg.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Mt. Pleasant. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike.

Family

Banned for life

It is quite the moment when you see the heavy hand of justice come down, and a child is informed by his mother that he is, from this point forward, forever banned from Lowe’s.

It is even more amazing when his two siblings are given the same sentence seconds later.

I witnessed this event recently at the self-checkout aisle. (Side note: The self-checkout aisle, when used properly is one of mankind’s greatest inventions, up there with roller coasters and backgammon. When used improperly, it is a plague upon humanity. I still think we should strongly consider a system in which one must pass a test and get a license to use self-checkout.)

But I digress. All four of the registers were occupied, and there were a few of waiting in line for an opening. (OK, another side note: one slight inefficiency in self-checkout lines is when there is line backing up. There is really no place to line up, so everyone just kinda mingles in an amorphous blob. And periodically, when a register opens, a new person who has just entered the area beelines straight for the opening, forcing the blob to mobilize and start shouting, “HEY! HEY! HEY!”)

Anywho, at one of the registers was a family of five. Dad was checking their handful of items, while Mom was overseeing the kids quickly unravel at breakneck speed.

The three kids – the oldest was maybe six – were behaving like … oh, what’s the word … Oh, yeah – kids. They were acting how kids act at any given point, and anyone looking at this family and thinking negatively upon them needs to really recalibrate their expectations about how little humans who have no compunction about eating quarters behave. Unfortunately for this mom, it was the perfect storm of all three of her little bottle rockets firing at once.

First one made a run for the candy at the checkout. Mom darted toward him and removed the eight packs of Skittles from his hand, which did NOT sit well with him. So he went for the Snickers. Then he went flat to the floor, doing that thing small children do where they suddenly weigh 900 pounds and are immovable anchors. That’s when Mom laid down the law. “YOU. ARE. NEVER. ALLOWED. AT. LOWE’S. AGAIN!”

Clearly, his siblings saw this as their time to shine and began their own shenanigans in different directions.

I would also like it duly noted that during this episode, the dad stared at the register, scanning his items, one by one, but VERY slowly.

Once the mom had banned the other two children for life as well, she began the whirlwind ninja mom trick of somehow gathering up multiple children at once and placing them at various parts of the shopping cart.

As I said earlier, no one should pass judgment on this family. I sure wasn’t. Because I’ve been there. I’ve climbed to the top of a McDonald’s playground because my child refused to come down. I’ve removed a wailing child from a grocery store because we couldn’t get “all of the potato chips.” And I’ve issued lifetime bans right there on the spot, knowing full well it wouldn’t be upheld.

Hopefully the next outing for this family was a little less eventful. I completely understand that going out in public with small kids can sometimes be an adventure. And I think we should all be sympathetic toward the parent who is dealing with a rambunctious child in public, and even a little bit for the child. After all, that may very well be the last time that child is ever allowed to go to that store.

Adventures Childhood Family Uncategorized

Winter wonderland

Winter Storm Grayson has come and mostly gone, and I think I speak for plenty of folks when I say, “Alright, that’s enough winter for 2018.”

A few thoughts on our big blizzard to kick off the year:

Yes, I know that five inches of snow isn’t a lot for much of the country. And yes I get that many people like to mock our (a) awe of the storm and (b) occasional ineptness in particular when it comes to driving. But I live in Charleston, SC, where we haven’t seen this kind of snow in nearly a decade. Congratulations if you live in a community that is prepared for this kind of weather and handle it without batting an eye. Please remember that we handle hurricanes and brutal heat quite splendidly.
But speaking of driving, we in the South do kind of earn that reputation honestly. I tried to stay off the road as much as I could. However, once the roads started clearing, I did get out a few times, mainly for groceries and a doctor’s appointment. I consider myself a fairly good driver, and approach driving in winter weather with caution and patience. Other drivers? Not so much. Fun fact: A four-wheel drive is not magically designed for driving over ice. I watched one big truck try and take a turn and slide sideways into another car. I also witnessed another big truck tailgate me as I went down a road covered in ice patches. Guess what? I’m not speeding up.
There really is nothing like watching kids play in snow, especially ones who have never seen it. We live in a neighborhood with a lot of little kids, and seeing them frolic and play was awesome. That said, there seems to be a pretty good chance you could take the wrong kid home, as they are virtually indistinguishable once they are bundled up and then covered in snow.
International Snowball Fight Rules must be adhered to, or there will be chaos. Timeouts must be honored, even it’s your big sister calling timeout. I mean it. Seriously. Parker – she called timeout. Do you want to go inside? Parker!
If you put gloves on your snowman’s arms, monitor them closely the next day. The gloves may be iced nice and stiff at first. But as the temperatures rise, the gloves may begin to melt. And once the four fingers not being supported by the stick arms melt, your snowman may inadvertently be giving one-fingered salutes to everyone driving by. Oops.
Ponds around these parts rarely freeze, so we thought it was pretty cool to see the ones near our house with a thin sheet of ice on them. Knowing we couldn’t get on the ice, we pitched snowballs at them to watch them explode on impact. Over the last few days, I have noticed that most every frozen pond has snowball plops all over them. Good to see other people are as easily amused as we are.
When I was a kid and winter weather approached, we had to watch TV or listen to radio and wait for the long list of closings to be read to see if our school was canceled. These kids today, with their smart phones and social media? Spoiled. And you can also tell when the announcement comes out, as you hear your two kids scream at the same time from different rooms when they get the alert on their phones about school being canceled.

So we have had our winter fun, and I am more than happy to let the rest of the country take on winter storms for the rest of 2018. I’m all for getting back to normal, and getting temperatures back way higher than my age. The snow was fun, but I’m good for one of these a year. Around these parts, I think it’s time to put our focus on what we’re best at: hurricanes and brutal heat.

Animals

Maddux the Only Dog

I wrote a while back about the passing of our beloved dog, Murphy the Excitable Dachshund. I appreciate the kind words that you all sent regarding our sweet pup.

This column is not a rehash of that, as I think we can all use good news to start 2018.

Rather, this is about his little brother, Maddux the Stoic, and his life adjusting as an only dog.

Murphy was about 15 pounds, and Maddux is about 80. That said, Murphy was the clear alpha. He would command respect and Maddux would never demur. Murphy says it’s his time to eat? Maddux would back away. Murphy says he wants the blanket? Maddux would move.

Maddux is a big, tough looking dog, but in Murphy’s presence, he really didn’t do much to properly reflect his appearance. Murphy was the big brother, and Maddux accepted that role.

As Murphy declined, Maddux had a hard time adjusting with it. They slept in crates next to each other, and each morning, they would both run out into the backyard together. As Murphy slowed, it confused Maddux. I would get them up in the mornings and open both of their crates. Maddux would dart out and stand at the back door. I would open it, but he would not go out until Murphy came with him. Toward the end, I would have to go retrieve Murphy and help him out. And Maddux would stand at the back door until I had delivered his big (even though he’s little) brother.

So when Murphy passed, we wondered what would happen with Maddux. Would he experience doggie depression? Would he be confused by the changed dynamic? Would he need another companion to take Murphy’s place?

Short answer: He was confused for about three days, wondering where his buddy was, sniffing around and being all kinds of out of sorts. And then he realized this is his world now.

To wit:

Maddux, who has never been a table begger, has taken countless things off of our counter (including a large pizza), and does so with an absolutely unapologetic look after the fact. Murphy, before age betrayed him, was an adept climber and jumper and masterful food thief. I can only wonder how many times we found some dinner piece on the kitchen floor and assumed Murphy had done it, unknowing that Maddux was the actual culprit.
Maddux has always liked his crate as his home base, and when Murphy was in his, Maddux wouldn’t leave his side. Bedtime used to be completely crate time. He would go there long before we were ready to go bed. Now? The world is his home base. Can’t find Maddux anywhere? Hmm. Let’s go exploring. Hey, look. He’s sleeping on my shoes in the closet. Or on the bath mat in the guest bathroom. Or on my laptop bag that’s in the den. He will sleep wherever he chooses.
He has turned into the whiniest little baby about treats. I have always kept treats for our dogs, and a couple of times a day they get a little snack. When Murphy was around, Maddux would sit patiently while Murphy took the first treat. He would then calmly take his and be done. Now? When I walk in from work, Maddux begins an aggressive tap dance right by where the treats are on the counter, as if to say, “I DON’T HAVE TO WAIT FOR HIM ANYMORE SO WHERE ARE MY BEGGIN’ STRIPS!!!”

I guess I am glad that he is finding is own way post-Murphy. I was worried he would have issues without having his buddy around, but in the end it’s clear that he’s adjusting fine and it A-OK with being an only dog. We are all learning to adapt our world, and that’s OK. And the most important way we have to adapt is to make darn sure we don’t leave a pizza on the counter.