How Time Flies

Today as I am writing this blog, I am in complete shock at the fact that my daughter is turning 16 years old today (AND also at the fact that I’m someone’s dad).  I truly cannot believe that my first born child is slowly growing into a young woman.  This is the very child whom I cradled in my arms in the wee morning hours trying to get her to sleep. 

Yes I know that it’s inevitable, but I’m amazed at how time flew by.  It’s as if I’m in a water tube slide and the laws of physics temporarily sped up; all the events that I shared with my daughter were merely subconscious flashbacks appearing before my eyes as I descended to the bottom. 

 “WOW!!!” is all I can say.  To see this strong, intelligent and ambitious girl attaining goals and dreams that I would never dare to do is completely mind-boggling…maybe I’m awed at that fact that I share DNA genes with her.  Every day I am surprised at what she is capable of doing and am truly proud.

 I guess the whole point of this post is just me reflecting on the past and how I relish my experiences as a parent with my children.  I’m not the best parent in the world but I’m definitely not the worst by any means.  I’ve made a lot of mistakes along the way and grew as a person, but I feel like I did an okay job.

 I look forward toward the future and am anxiously awaiting for my daughter and son to astonish me, whether it be something big or something small.  It is because of them that I am inspired to do things and explore things that will surprise them as well.  Hopefully along the way I can slow down time and defy the laws of physics to savor every moment.

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Babysitting

Babysitting is difficult and often considered a chore

To those that see this as a task will often hate it more

Watching over children is quite difficult to do,

when their screaming and yelling are all taunting you

Your patience is tried, your nerves are all bent,

you wonder and wonder where your intelligence went

“Why me?!  Why me?!” is what you will think,

The message is clear, damn you need a drink

Before that sip is taken, think back and reminisce

of those great childhood days that you so often miss

To be a child and see the fun things in life

is better than coping with the stress and the strife

Being happy, carefree, while being young and so small

is the greatest feeling to have most of all

It’s no different now than it was back before

Only thing is you understand it even more

You’ve now realized what your parents went through

You’ve known all along it would happen to you

Take heed my child for you’ve surely grown

Let this come to mind and let it be known

Your help was required because you understand and care

Your sympathy and kindness to the children should you share

So remember this poem for one day you’ll see

You’ll go through this again when you start your family.

 

 


 

How to make a good mudpie better.

Judy liked playing with mud, not in the mud mind you, but with the mud. She especially liked making mudpies. And she was real good at it.

On sunny days, Judy pulled out her little cart of supplies into her backyard and studied the dirt. She would grab a handful of dirt and feel it to see if it was the right texture and temperature for making mudpies.

“This is perfect” said Judy.

She would take an empty pail and shovel from her cart and fill it up with dirt. She would then add some water from a bottle into the pail and mix it with her long wooden spoon.

Judy would take the pail of mud over to a sunny flat section of the backyard and carefully spooned out some mud onto the ground. She always made four round mudpies because she liked the number four.

“I wish there was some way I could make my mudpies better” said Judy.

With that, she stepped back and let the sun bake her mudpies. While waiting for her pies to bake, Judy would smell the flowers, shoot some colored marbles, and play in the sandbox.

After doing all those things, Judy went to check on her mudpies. She always inspected it carefully before touching them.

“It’s ready” she said.

Judy picked up her mudpies and carried it over to a box labelled “Judy’s pies”. She opened it and put the mudpies in with her other collection of mudpies.

She stared at her collection long and hard and thought to herself, “There must be a way to make my mudpies better.”

She thought and thought and thought but could not come up with an idea. Feeling frustrated, Judy went into the house to find an answer.

She went into the kitchen where her mother was putting the finishing touches on a cake.

Judy noticed her mother placing some candy flowers and gumballs around the edges of the cake.  She then threw some candy sprinkles in the middle for color.

Her mother showed Judy the cake and asked her, “How do you like the way this cake looks?”

“Wow, it looks pretty” replied Judy.

After watching her mom decorate the cake, Judy got an idea.

“That’s what I’ll do” exclaimed Judy. She then ran out to the backyard.

Judy was hard at work making her mudpies. Before setting her pies out in the sun to bake, she picked some flowers, grabbed her marbles, and got some sand from the sandbox.

When she set her mudpies on the flat ground, Judy did exactly what her mom did when decorating the cake.

Flowers and marbles were place on the edges of the pie and sand was sprinkled in the middle for a little color.

While the sun baked her mudpies, Judy did not smell the flowers, shoot her marbles, or play in the sandbox, instead she went to “Judy’s pies” box.

She took out her mudpies and brought them over to the dirt section one by one. When she was finished, she went to check her other mudpies.

Judy carefully inspected her new mudpies and then picked them up. She carried them and placed them into “Judy’s pies” box. She looked at her creation but didn’t smile.

She ran into the house and came out with a pen. She scribbled something on the box and then stepped back. “Judy’s cakes” was now written on the box.

“There, that’s better” said Judy with a big smile. She looked at her colorful mudcakes and said, “Now that’s how to make a good mudpie better.”

Mark Kaneshige

A Beard, A Mustache or A Goatee

Seven year old Sam would sit in front of a mirror all day and stare at his face.

“What should I have, a beard, a mustache, or a goatee?” wondered Sam.

The reason he asked himself that question was because he had three uncles who he thought were interesting.

His first uncle, Uncle James, had a white beard, not as long as Santa’s, but just as noticeable. Uncle James had a tendency to stroke his beard. His second uncle, Uncle Bill, had a nice black mustache that curled at the ends. Uncle Bill had a tendency to twirl his mustache whenever he could. And his third uncle, Uncle Matt, had a brown goatee that hung from his chin and flapped everytime the wind blew. Uncle Matt would rub his goatee with his fingers from top to bottom.

“Maybe I should have a white beard like Uncle James, yeah that’s what I should have” said Sam.

He looked high and low all over his house to make a white beard. Sam found the answer in his refrigerator…a can of whipped cream. Sam squirted out a handful of whipped cream and rubbed it on his face. He shaped it like Uncle James’ beard and went to see himself in the mirror.

“Just like Uncle James” said Sam. With that, he stroked his beard and proudly walked around the house.

“What are you doing? What is that on your face!?” asked his mother.

“I put whipped cream on my face to make a beard like Uncle James” answered Sam.

“You eat whipped cream, not put it on your face. Wash your face” said his mother.

Feeling disappointed, Sam went to wash his face. Sam sat back in front of the mirror and stared at his face again.

“Maybe I should have a black mustache like Uncle Bill” said Sam. And with that he found a black pen and scribbled a dark mustache on his face.

He looked at his mustache, “This is much better than the whipped cream.” Sam pretended to twirl his mustache and proudly walked out of his room. He headed out the door when… “Sam, what did you do to your face?” shouted his mother.

“I used a pen and made myself a mustache like Uncle Bill” replied Sam, “isn’t it neat?”

“Young man, you use a pen to write things with, not draw on your face. You go wash your face right now” shouted his mother.

“But mom, I want a mustache” replied Sam.

“You need to have hair to have a mustache, now go wash your face” exclaimed his mother.

Feeling disappointed again, Sam went to wash his face. Sam sat back in front of the mirror again and stared real hard at his face.

“Maybe I should have a brown goatee like Uncle Matt” said Sam, “but this time I should use some hair.” Sam thought about cutting some of his to make his goatee but it wasn’t brown. He thought real hard and finally thought of an answer…his dog Oscar was brown.

“That’s it!” shouted an eager Sam, “That’s what I’ll use, Oscar’s fur.”

With a scissor in hand, Sam found Oscar. Oscar had a nice and silky brown fur that was soft to the touch. Sam grinned with delight and cut a handful of Oscar’s fur. He placed the brown fur on some sticky tape and fashioned it into a goatee. He then put the sticky tape on his chin and rubbed his goatee from top to bottom.

Sam looked at himself in the mirror and cracked a big smile when all of a sudden… “Sam get over here right now!” screamed his mother.

Sam dashed out of his room and went to his mother. His mother was sitting next to Oscar, who had a big bald spot in the middle of his back. She did not look happy.

“Young man, did you do this to Oscar? And now what is that on your face?” said his mother.

“I used Oscar’s hair to make a goatee like Uncle Matt” said Sam.

“Sam, to have a beard, mustache, or goatee, you need to grow hair” said his mother.

“So when am I going to grow some hair?” asked Sam.

“Not for awhile I’m afraid, but in the meantime I stopped by the costume shoppe and picked up these things for you” said his mother.

She presented Sam with a white clip-on beard, a black press-on mustache, and a brown press-on goatee. “Gee thanks mom!” said a delightful Sam.  And with that, he scooped them up and ran to his room.

Sam laid down the white beard, the black mustache, and the brown goatee.

He looked at the mirror and stared at himself. “What should I have…a beard, a mustache, or a goatee?” wondered Sam.

Mark Kaneshige