Thursday, February 7, 2013

The Super Boy Pledge

When you're a parent, you often feel like you're walking across a minefield in your own living room.  Nighttime is particularly hazardous--who knows what jagged legos are waiting to pierce your naked foot?

Despite the aesthetic allure of adding a little color to some of our empty wall space, I really do prefer that Reese's nail polish stay on her nails...

And it would be nice to step in a bathtub free from mermaid accouterments.  (It would also be nice if the water in the bath stayed in there, rather than looking like the "splash zone" at Sea World after Shamu's big finish).

However, Emaley has pointed out more than once that when the kids are grown, we'll miss having all of these little "reminders" of them around the house.  Legos on the floor, after all, mean Keenin's been busy exercising his mad imagination; and I have to admit I'll miss hearing Reese's voice echoing out of the bathroom while she performs her rendition of Ariel's "Part of Your World" with that cute little contrived vibrato she shoves onto every note.

One of these reminders happened today and it inspired me to add a long overdue post to this blog.  

Several times the kids' art paper has gotten mixed up with our printer paper, and I will end up with a drawing of a princess or Batman overlaid with whatever I had meant to print.  Today, that very thing happened.  I was printing something up when I happened to see drawings of stick-men super heroes cropping up with my stuff.  As I looked them over, I noticed that on the back of one of the pages was something written in pencil.  And from the shabby penmanship, I could tell it had been written by either Keenin or a tranquilized lemur.

It happened to be something written regarding the "boy club" Keenin founded, called the Super Boys, and their arch enemies, a "girl club" called the "Beauty Girls."

This is what was written:

"I pledge to the flag of the Super Boys that the Beauty Girls are stupid and dumb and that we will beat them and get their power source and crush it to pieces.  All hail Martian Manhunter."

Reading this reminded me of another little boy and his "club"...

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

This is your brain on A.D.D.

Today's post (once again following a massive time interval between posts just like the last one) I have a lot of things on my mind.  I started this blog to talk about our kids and post pictures of them so that our family and friends (and especially the doting grandparents across the ocean) can be a part of our life.  This is also much easier than a scrapbook, which is something I had told Emaley I would try to do (despite the relatively legitimate stereotype of such a practice being "girly"); she was the one who had suggested it might be easier and more realistic if I just start a blog and keep our family history that way.

This all made sense, of course, because no one's life is really private anymore.  We're all Facebooking and Tweeting and Blogging every second of our existence, while the godfathers of social media laugh at us for falling for the greatest practical joke of all time: their ridiculous terminology contrived for all this stuff.  (Seriously, can you picture Abraham Lincoln saying, "General Grant just tweeted me.  He says Lee has blogged about the South's hopeless position.  Will you please have the Secretary of War update my Facebook status to 'happy'?")

Blog.  Gene Roddenberry spent so much time trying to come up with cool terms for Star Trek, and all that time he could've been tossing out stuff resembling comic book sound effects.

But this is all completely beside the point!  I have several important things to BLOG about today!  Some of them about the kids, some of them about our family, some of them about deep meaning-of-life stuff, and some of them just random (like my entire introduction to this entry).

Heaven, God and Snot
You could totally make a quote-of-the-day calendar for the things Reese says.  There was the time a couple years ago when her goldfish died (appropriately named "Goldie") and was flushed down the toilet.  During the memorial service, as she and I stood at the toilet staring at the rippling water now refilling the bowl, she asked where her goldfish had gone now that it was dead.  I replied, "She went to heaven."  Then there was brief silence as the little wheels turned, and she asked, "Heaven is in the toilet?"

Recently, we were driving in the car, and she was in the backseat singing to herself (she's constantly singing or humming to herself).  Neither one of us had said anything for quite a while; and then out of the blue she broke the silence with, "I'm just so glad God made ice cream."

Me too, Reese.

And then yesterday morning, she woke up with a considerable amount of mucus in her nose, which created a whistling sound as she breathed (gross, right?)  Reese smiled at the sound, however, and said, "My nose sounds like 'Jingle Bells'!"

Separation is Natural - Shake It Up!
I recently bought an Odwalla drink.  I'm sure most of you have noticed the little couplet along the bottom of the bottle's label that says, "Separation is natural - shake it up!"  I won't be the first to draw some profound conclusion from the drink's directions, but it sort of hit me in a big way recently.  It's frighteningly easy to allow life's daily chores to insert their tentacles of mundaneness into what could otherwise be an interesting life.  By the end of each day, all Emaley and I want to do is lay back and be fed stimulation through a straw by the watered-down entertainment of TV and Hollywood.

But then yesterday we decided to take time in the middle of the day to go for a jog together, and then go out for sushi--just to shake things up.  I had a great time just hanging out with her.  We didn't have much time, however.  Immediately after lunch we had to quickly stop by the house to shower and change, and then I took her back up to her office, dropped her off, and then drove over to pick Reese up from school; life had said, "That's enough!  Now get back to earth."

On my way from Emaley's office to Hokulani Elementary, I felt like I did when we were dating--you know: that heady feeling you get when you drop the girl off at home and watch her go inside and then drive home with a big, stupid grin on your face, the whole time thinking, "I totally scored!"  I couldn't stop thinking about her the whole afternoon and it was a great feeling.

Maybe separation wouldn't be so common if people shook it up more often.


Thursday, October 27, 2011

It's been a while...

I haven't written a post for waaaaaaay too long.  Today's post, though, is a little more serious than the others.  (I know, lame, right?)

So, for those of you who know me, you know I'm a pretty religious guy.  I usually pray throughout the day: just little things here and there as stuff comes to me.  Sometimes I'm not patient enough with my kids, so I'll try and sneak in a little prayer in my mind asking for help to be more patient.  Or, sometimes if I'm just driving somewhere, I'll think about things I want to improve in, so I pray for help and try to think of ways that I can improve in those areas.

Anyway, something that's been on my mind a lot recently has been service.  I've been analyzing my life and I realize that I haven't been as selfless as I should be.  So, I've been praying for ways I can be more selfless: you know, like doing some community service, feeding the homeless, saving whales, that kind of stuff.

The problem is, all these house chores keep getting in the way. The other morning I was having a great prayer--on my knees no less--asking God for more opportunities to be selfless and chisel away at all my selfish tendencies, when I realized it was time to get the kids up, make them breakfast, and then make their lunches.  Then, after that, they were off to school, so I had some free time, and so I thought, "Okay, now's a perfect time to go and do something for someone other than myself."  The only problem was, I had to do the laundry and the dishes, make the bed, pick up the kids' room (which they usually do themselves but in this case I had to get it done before they would be home from school) and then run some food up to my wife who had forgotten to make herself a lunch.  Then, to make matters worse, Keenin had forgotten his homework folder at home and it had a ton of homework in it that he had to turn in that day.  So, I had to drive all the way out to his school just to drop it off (which is not the same school down the street that Reese goes to: Keenin now goes to a private school out by the airport, which is only about 15 miles away, but with Honolulu traffic it might as well be located in Guam).

Then, that afternoon, all my time was eaten up by helping the kids with their homework, piano lessons, make dinner, and then they were allowed to have some of the neighbor kids come over and play.  Of course, 4-5 small children running around in a confined area is worse than a college frat house during Homecoming.  By the time the night was over and I was getting the kids in the bath, our place looked like it had been redecorated by Genghis Khan.  I rolled my eyes and bemoaned my travails as a "housewife" to Emaley, earning myself a sympathetic look along with a couple platitudes.

The next morning, when I woke up, once again praying to have more opportunities to be more selfless, I looked at the house--still in disarray--and groaned.  I complained to Emaley how I'm spending all my time cleaning and cooking and cleaning some more and then after the cleaning I get to do some more cleaning cleaning cleaning cleaning cleaning cooking cleaning cleaning...


On an unrelated note: I give a lot of lip service to "God answers prayers in mysterious ways" when I'm at church.  It makes you sound sage and deep and balanced to say stuff like that, and everyone else in Sunday School says, "Ooh, Doug is so wise and spiritual.  Scripture seems to tumble from his lips like honey from one of those little plastic bear-shaped bottles."  Of course, when the rubber hits the road, and God answers my prayer in a way that's not only mysterious but, let's face it, a little inglorious, I tend to moan and whine and throw my hands up in some faux righteous indignation.

No wonder my mom is such a saint.  By the time she was done raising me, she had earned enough "community service" hours to cash in on a beachfront mansion in heaven, complete with a hot tub and tennis court.  I mean, here I am presented DAILY opportunities to give service to--not strangers, not acquaintances--but the most important people in my life, and I drag my feet like I'm on death row.

I've always been told house chores are circular--kind of like the "Circle of Life" in the Lion King: eternal, perpetual, never-ending, obnoxious (I feel like Bill Murray in "Ground Hog Day")--and that knowledge has never done anything to assuage my frustration with constant cleaning and cooking.  However, when I finally looked at it from the perspective of, "Wow, I get to do these things today for the people I love," it changed everything.  I still hate cleaning, I still hate cooking, but I love my sweaty, smelly, muddy kids and my patient, understanding wife who puts up with all my whining (but who can't put clothes on hangers to save her life and always leaves her pajamas laying on the floor and doesn't load the washing machine correctly and always leaves little bits of food on the dishes when she washes them and... )

Anyway, I never realized homemaking could be such an internship for Sainthood.  By no means do I claim to have achieved any sort of super spiritual transcendental status, but this one little "click" in my paradigm has definitely opened my eyes up to a lot of what it means to live everyday for other people.  I think I understand the kind of service Jesus gave--not to elevate himself, but to elevate others.  Now, when I do finally go out and save a whale, or help out at a soup kitchen, I hope I'll think more about the service itself, and less about myself.

Reese just spilled her juice.  I get to "serve" her...again...

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

It's all coming back to haunt me

Keenin and Reese have a tendency to mumble sometimes, or just speak really quietly, and I often have to prompt them to speak up.  Conversely, they also have the attention span of a gnat, and so whether I may be speaking too quietly myself, or yelling at the top of my lungs, they will often still not hear what I have to say.  So, in those cases where I have to repeat myself several times, I'll sometimes tease them and say, "Geez, do I need to buy you a hearing aid?"

Today, Reese came up with her own zing.  She asked me a question and I said, "What?"  She asked it again, just as quietly as before, and I had to say, "What?" again.  Finally, she asked it a third time and I heard her and was able to answer it.  Afterwards, however, she proceeded to roll her eyes and say, "Geez, do I need to buy you elephant ears?"

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Family vs. Dinosaurs

It's pretty funny hearing the debates that rage between Keenin and Reese.  Though Emaley and I haven't gone out of our way to promote "girly" things for Reese and "boy" things for Keenin (which, brings up another point: why isn't there a male counterpart to the term "girly"?  I guess you could say "boyly," but that just sounds stupid), each of them has nevertheless posted their gender flags and they subsequently defend their territory with zeal.  There are moments when compromises are reached and they are able to temporarily join forces for the common cause of having fun.  However, it inevitably dissolves into the clash of the sexes once again with Reese demanding they play "girl" games, and Keenin stating unequivocally that it is only "boy" games he will condone.  The battle lines are redrawn as they return to their trenches, with mermaids, ponies, and unicorns in one, and Spider-Man, Batman, and dinosaurs in the other.

Today, in particular, Keenin has been playing almost exclusively with his new toy dinosaur he received from a friend of the family's for his birthday.  Reese has been playing with her dollhouse, which opens up to show the inside, and which came with an entire family (daddy, mommy, brother, sister, and baby).  They were playing separately until somehow the realms of play overlapped and soon they were trying to play together.  However, it quickly fell apart into an argument, with Reese begging Keenin to have the dinosaur come eat dinner with the family, and Keenin insisting that the family is the dinosaur's dinner.  Reese insisted that the dinosaur should not eat the family, but that rather it should be their pet.  Keenin insisted that the family should "go to war against the dinosaur" (his words exactly), which, in Keenin's mind, was the greatest compromise ever: Reese got to play house while still partaking in the epic struggle against giant carnivores.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to get them ready for church, so I asked Reese to go get her socks on.  She glared at Keenin and told him not to eat the family while she was away.  She stalked off into her room with Keenin watching her go, at which point he took his dinosaur, latched its jaws onto the mom's head, and started intermittently growling and screaming in a high-pitched voice as the mommy was devoured.  Then he grabbed the dad, who punched the dinosaur, rescuing his wife from the clutches of the evil monster.

Reese came back into the room with her socks on only to see, to her horror, Family vs. Dinosaurs!

Everything came apart, of course, with them arguing over what to play until they came to me, whom they view as the great mediator.  With Solomon-like wisdom, I told them they should take turns and play girl stuff for one minute, then boy stuff for one minute, switching off.  This idea seemed to be the best compromise they could come up with.  Keenin demanded that I set a timer so that they wouldn't play girl stuff for one second longer than a minute.  Reese seconded the motion and it became policy: the timer has been going off every minute for about ten minutes now.

The result has been a sort of bipolar pretend play: one minute they're having tea, with the Tyrannosaurus Rex politely asking for "two sugars, please," after which he suddenly attacks and the family must fight back with their magic (not sure when the magic came into the whole scenario).  Soon thereafter, they are back to tea, until the dinosaur loses interest once more and decides he wants more of a snack than a hot drink and a cookie.

Friday, May 20, 2011

musical review

I just got my first musical review last night.  I had a piece for solo flute premier in Boston, thanks to the efforts of my good friend Masaki Hasebe.  You can check out the review here:

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

The Longest Story in the Universe

I recently found a story written by Keenin for this past Easter.  I re-read it and was reminded how funny it is, so I thought I'd post it.  (Please note: I'm typing it exactly as he has written it, so the grammar's a little off and he has a tendency to capitalize random letters).

The longest Story in the UNIVERSE, by Keenin McCulloch

A Long time ago There lived a country LOTS of people live there because there was a very old man older than anybody in the planet and his name was JESUS he was a power full man he cannot he helped lots of People love him so did did him and he loved better than they love him some people call him the mosaia (a.k.a. "Messiah").  But one day he got killed he was nailed on a cross and put him in a cave with gaurds ("guards") so no one could not save him an angle (or, rather, "angel") came killed the guards wait wait wait wait he got resarected ("resurrected") then the angle came and killed the gaurds opened the gaurds door Jesus came out.  people thought he was a ghost wait wait wait wait again they were scared then they thought he was a ghost then they relized ("realized") that he's alive so they got happy.  And thats the story of ESTER ("EASTER").