FAMILY MATTERS
Mom's theory on kitchen mess misfires
By Ka'ohua Lucas
"Look at this," my friend said with a sigh, retrieving a crust of bread from her kitchen counter.
Kids.
As she padded over to her refrigerator and opened it, a raw egg rolled out of the butter bin and exploded on the floor.
"I can't believe this," she said evenly, mopping the mess up with a paper towel.
"Oh, and this is my favorite," she said, referring to a turquoise bowl holding the remains of a child's saimin meal. The noodles had absorbed the broth, leaving a mushroom-colored, gooey mass of mush. "Why can't they just dispose of it?"
I shrugged. It's really no different at my house. I can arrive home after a late night workshop to find the kitchen in disarray.
A used scoop drips vanilla ice cream on the counter top. Plates display uneaten portions of the dinner meal. A half-gallon of lukewarm milk sweats on the dining table as it waits to be returned to its refrigerated space.
When I was growing up, my mom threatened to bundle the dishes into a tablecloth and toss them into the ocean.
"You kids have to learn to clean up after yourselves," she scolded. "I can't keep picking up after you!"
After having my own children (and husband), I decided enough was enough.
I was tired of washing dishes three times a day. I was going to leave the kitchen in a mess to see how long it would take for them to clean it.
My theory was, if I refused to tidy up after them, they would eventually surrender and take the initiative to wash dishes.
Well, my theory backfired.
Two days into the test, there wasn't a fork, spoon, plate or pot that was clean.
"Hey, Mom," my 13-year-old called out. "Do we have any clean forks?"
"Don't think so," I said hopefully. "What are you going to do?"
As my husband leafed through the morning paper, he responded.
"Just rinse off one of the forks in the sink," he said. "And make sure you use hot water."
I couldn't believe what I heard.
Hawaiians have a wise saying that describes the cleanliness of people: Ke pau ka moa, kaka i ka nuku; ke pau ka 'iole, ahu kukae; ke pau ka mano, lanao i ke kai.
Translated, that means: When a chicken finishes eating, he cleans his beak. When a rat finishes, he leaves a heap of excreta. When a shark finishes, he rises to the surface of the sea.
This 'olelo no'eau describes people and their habits. Some are clean like chickens. Others are unclean and careless like the rat. And still others are like the shark who lolls around without offering to help.
I decided that my 'ohana had the same behavior patterns of the rat and the shark.
I stood in the middle of our kitchen, glaring at two days' worth of mess.
My husband made his way from the dining room table and placed a consoling hand on my shoulder.
"Honey, think of it this way," he said philosophically. "Those dishes look just as good sitting in the sink as they do in the cupboard."
As he strolled back to the kitchen table, he burst into song: "Leave the dishes in the sink, boy!"
Ka'ohua Lucas, mother of three, has a master's degree in teacher education, curriculum and instruction.
