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The Honolulu Advertiser
Posted on: Sunday, July 13, 2003

FAMILY MATTERS
Kids' habit of misplacing swimwear puts Mom in dirty struggle

By Ka'ohua Lucas

"Yuck, what is it?" my 9-year-old asked, lifting a zipper-closure plastic bag from his backpack.

He gingerly opened it, releasing a foul odor.

"That is so hauna," my eldest groaned, pinching his nose.

The smell that permeated the room was as if someone had gutted a kala fish and left it out to dry.

The gnarled, wet mass was difficult to identify. I bolted to the kitchen, shaking the contents of the one-gallon bag into the sink. Thunk!

As I prodded the greenish/gray blob with my forefinger, it unfolded, revealing an elastic waistband.

"Pray, tell, what is this?" I said, glaring at my 9-year-old, knowing full well that it was a new pair of surf shorts I had bought him just a month ago.

"Oh, that's where it went," he said, casually. "I've been looking for those."

At that moment, I wanted to reach out, grab hold of his ear and twist it. I told him to run a load of clothes, using two capfuls of Downy instead of the usual one.

About this time of year, my kids' swim trunks and surf shirts begin to disappear. I feel like a detective, interrogating my sons when items go missing.

Where's your surf shirt?

"I don't know.

Where did you leave it last?

"I don't know."

Is it in the hamper?

"I don't know."

Did you leave it at Nana's?

"I don't know."

Maybe on the clothesline?

"Mmm ... maybe."

The more I grill them, the more the situation intensifies.

"Dang, Mom," the 12-year-old says. "I don't know where my surf shirt is!"

Then, I launch into a whole diatribe of "Take care of your things," and "It's your kuleana," and "You know, I can't afford to buy you a $50 surf shirt every time you lose it."

Then my boys look at me with doleful eyes, and I begin the search alone.

One morning, I was in a cleaning frenzy and discovered a pair of swim trunks tucked in between two closet shelves. It was obvious that the shorts were damp at one time, but over several months had dried, conforming to the space they had been shoved into.

As I yanked the garment from its hiding place, it was stiff like a long stick of dried aku. And it smelled like aku, too.

The formerly solid sky-blue trunks now had a pattern on them. Faint splotches of mold decorated the pant legs and crotch area. It was as if someone had sprayed the shorts with an aerosol can of gray paint.

I must saythat all the years I have committed to training my sons to hang up their wet swimwear seems to have had some impact. They have (almost) progressed to the point where they automatically unload their backpacks without being told.

Perhaps it was one of my favorite 'olelo no'eau that inspired them: Miki ka 'ilio kahu 'ole no ka hemahema. Stray dogs will take what one neglects to care for.

In other words, when one is careless with his possessions, they may be gone.

Reach Ka'ohua Lucas at Family Matters, 'Ohana section, The Advertiser, P.O. Box 3110, Honolulu, HI 96802; fax 525-8055; or at ohana@honoluluadvertiser.com.