About This Blog

Rated P is a sketch comedy musical about parenthood celebrating the wonders & lunacy of raising kids from conception to college. This blog, written by Rated P's author & lyricist, Sandy Rustin, offers up a humorous and heartfelt look at the nitty gritty business of parenting.



Friday, January 4, 2013

Life Moves You Along




Photo: Pebblecreek


The new year always strikes me as an arbitrary time marker. The truth is, it's as good a time as any to stop and take a breath. Inevitably the turn of the year causes at least some reflection in even the humbuggiest of us.

In looking back at 2012, I have realized that I have turned a corner in adulthood. My friends and colleagues are not just talking about being parents themselves; I am now at the age, where our own parents have become a hot topic.  They've entered into the conversation. 

Our kid's grandparents are retiring - or maybe they're not. Some of them are growing older gracefully while others have developed first name relationships with their Botox doctors. Some are getting divorced and some are getting re-married. Some are lowering their cholesterol and others have committed to donuts for breakfast. Some have become ill, or passed away, and others have finally climbed Machu Picchu. Our parents are buying condos, selling businesses, going back to school, traveling, and taking blood pressure medication.

Our parents' generation is transitioning.

There was a sketch I wrote for Rated P that I cut from the script before rehearsal began. It addresses the grown-up child/parent relationship. I cut it because ultimately we wanted Rated P to be about parenting actual children. Introducing the dynamic between adult children and parents seemed glaringly out of place within the context of the rest of the show.

However, the reality is, that in the midst of parenting our own children, we of course maintain our own status as "child" to our parents. So though this sketch may not have been quite right for Rated P, I am posting it here in light of my own New Year's reflection.  
  
Written with love for all the "transitioning" parents in my life.

MOVING  

Lights up on ROB’S MOM in her living room filled with boxes.   The doorbell rings.  She makes her way through a maze of boxes to find ROB, her adult son, at the door.

                                                             ROB
We got the date for Jessie’s graduation.  June 13th.

                                                            MOM
Well that’s good to know.  I’ll mark my calendar.

                                                            ROB
So, this time next year, she’ll be … (noticing the boxes) What’s happening?

                                                            MOM
Rob, I’m moving.

                                                            ROB
I thought you were kidding!

                                                            MOM
(Shouting off to the movers)  I opened the garage doors … you can start in there.
                                                            
                                                            ROB
My records are in the garage!

                                                            MOM
You have a house with a basement and an attic.  Take your records.
                                                           
                                                           ROB
How can you be so nonchalant?

                                                            MOM
Your father, may he rest in peace, and I, lived in this house for 34 years.  I don’t want to live here for one without him.
                                                             
                                                           ROB
What about the door frame from the kitchen?
                                                             
                                                           MOM
Honey.
  
                                                           ROB
How will you know how tall we were?  They’ll paint over it.
                                                             
                                                           MOM
You used to be short, Rob.  Now you’re tall.  That’s all that matters.
                                                             
                                                           ROB
You can’t move.

                                                           MOM
I am moving.  Today.

                                                           ROB
What’s so great about an “Active Adult Community?”

                                                            MOM
The tennis.
           
                                                            ROB
Who will watch Jessie?

                                                            MOM
Jessie can watch herself now.

                                                            ROB
So what, you think, “Ohhhh, my granddaughter’s going to college, I should move to Sunnybrook Village and leave Rob completely abandoned?  No daughter.  No mother.”

                                                            MOM
If by abandoned you mean, I move to the next town over while you remain in your house … with your wife … then, yes, I’m completely abandoning you.

                                                            ROB
What if you hate your neighbors?

                                                            MOM
This is what happens, Rob.  Life moves you along.
                                                            
                                                            ROB
The hydrangeas out front are temperamental.  The “buyers” will kill ‘em.  

(MOM hands ROB something wrapped in tissue paper).   

                                                           ROB
What is this?
                                                           
                                                           MOM
Open it.

(It’s a Chewbacca, Star Wars figurine).
 
                                                           ROB
Chewy!  Where’d you find him?  
                                   
                                                           MOM
He was in the utensil drawer.  He’s been there for years.  Always tangled with the whisk.  I could have moved him but …

(MOM gets choked up.  ROB makes a Chewbacca sound with the back of his throat.  MOM laughs.  They hug and remain in the hug…).

                                                            ROB
Mom?

                                                            MOM
Yes, honey?

                                                            ROB
Did you, when you were packing up, did you … uh ... find …

                                                            MOM
Your nudey magazines are in with your records, Robert.

                                                            ROB
(Beat.  They are still hugging).  Mom?

                                                            MOM
I won’t tell Debbie.

                                                            ROB
(Beat).  My daugther’s going to college….

                                                            MOM
In a year …

                                                            ROB
And you’re going to play tennis and I’m left with my wife, Chewbacca, Led Zepplin records, and old porn. 

                                                            MOM
You like all those things.  (MOVER enters).

                                                            MOVER
Sorry to interrupt.  Mrs. J, we’re ready for the furniture.

                                                            MOM
Go ahead.  Don’t mind us.

                                                            MOVER
(Calling off) … C’mon fellas, let’s get this party started.

 LIGHTS FADE on ROB and MOM still hugging as the movers move the furniture.

 

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