FAMILY MATTERS
A housecleaning by any other standard would not look as neat

By Ka'ohua Lucas

As I peeled myself from the steering wheel, all I could think about was a warm shower and a cold beer.

It had been a long day.

The lights were off in the house, indicating that my 'ohana was fast asleep. As I trudged toward the

lanai area, I prepared myself for the worst. I envisioned dishes piled high in the kitchen sink, remains of partly eaten pizza on the dining room table, and dirty clothes forming a trail from living room to bathroom.

My footsteps grew heavier. I was not anxious to open the front door to view the devastation. I lingered on the first step of the stoop.

Maybe I'll grab a sleeping bag and lie out under the cool night sky, I thought. That's one way to avoid the suspected disaster that awaits me. Or maybe I'll grab a cold beer from the outside fridge and kick back in one of our patio chairs. A nice cold pia, a beer, will certainly give me the confidence I need to face impending doom.

I decided to brave it.

I unlocked the front door and stepped inside. The glow from the TV illuminated the room. My husband was sprawled on the pune'e.

"You're home, finally," he said, not moving from his position as he casually flipped the channel to a John Wayne western.

"What happened here?" I asked.

It looked as if he had hired a professional cleaning service.

Countertops were clear. The dining room table was immaculate. Dishes had been removed from the dish drain. The kitchen sink was empty. The floor was spotless.

It was as if Mary Poppins had snapped her fingers and everything had returned to its original place.

It was magical.

"When the boys and I got home, the house was clean," my husband yawned. "Must have been your daughter."

It was indeed my 20-year-old college student, home for the summer. I imagined it was she who had done the cleaning. Everything was in order. This is not to say that my men are incapable. It's just that their thoroughness is — how do I say this? — lacking.

One day, I arrived home to the smell of barbecue pork ribs sizzling on the outside grill. My husband had a kitchen towel draped across his shoulder. The front of his shirt was completely wet.

"What have you been up to?" I asked.

"Go look at your house," he said. "The boys and I have been working on it all day."

Eager to see their accomplishments, I peered inside.

"Surprise!" my sons said, beaming, with outstretched arms.

The house had indeed been cleaned — by their standards.

I had to suppress a smile.

A blanket had been wadded up and hidden behind a row of pillows. The floor had been swept, but there was still a grape and a piece of bread crust under the dining room table. Ketchup and a few grains of rice were still on the kitchen table, evidence of breakfast.

"And look, Mom," my 9-year-old announced, pointing to the kitchen sink. "Dad even washed the dishes."

So that's why the front of his shirt was wet.

"This looks awesome!" I exclaimed. "What a great surprise!"

'A'ohe pilo uku. Even a small gift is appreciated.

As my haole grandmother said, never look a gift horse in the mouth.

Even if it has a few teeth missing?

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