Oahu Travel Tips

Aloha!

Aaahh...paradise. My family just spent 7 glorious days in Hawaii and this week's post topics are all the things I did or saw or ate and said, "I'm gonna blog about this when I get home."

Today's topic: Oahu Travel Tips

1. Rent a car. You will find many reviews online that say you don't need a car if you stay in Waikiki but if you listen to them, you will come home and say, "I don't really like Oahu. It's too touristy." and that will just piss me off. (For many reasons, and the main one being that you think the word "tourist" does not apply to you.) Duh people--if you stay in Waikiki without a car, all you see is Waikiki, which is very crowded and loud and, yes, touristy. There is so much more to this island; you really need to get out and see it. (Stay tuned later this week for Oahu sightseeing destinations.)

2. Or take the bus. Here in California we drive everywhere so my kids were amazed to see schoolchildren and businessmen boarding the bus every day. Public transportation in Hawaii is great and you can ride The Bus pretty much anywhere you want to go for a couple of bucks and a transfer, without the hassle of fighting downtown traffic. A 4-day pass costs $25.


3. Brush up on your Hawaiian. I used to live on Oahu but my husband is from Michigan. He's what locals here would call "haole" and is entirely unfamiliar with the Hawaiian language. I did the driving on this trip and navigating downtown Honolulu with its one-way streets and lots of traffic can be pretty confusing, so Vince was my map guy.

Here's a typical scenario:
Me: OK, so we have to get to Kapiolani Ave.
Him: OK. (A few minutes go by...) Here it is--turn right here.
Me: What? Where? This is Kalakaua.
Him: Oh. Sorry.
(A few minutes later...)
Him: OK, turn here. Kahili.
Me: I thought we were going to Kapiolani.
Him. Oh. Sorry.

Luckily, we were on an island and could only get so lost...

4. Do not play the Alphabet Game with street signs. There are only 13 letters in the Hawaiian alphabet and B is not one of them, so this game ended pretty quick.

5. Eat some Spam. You will be surprised at how easy it is...even McDonald's serves it. You can get Spam musubi (rice with a piece of Spam on top, wrapped with seaweed, or nori) at any food court in any mall but our favorite is the Zip-pac at Zippy's, a local fast-food chain. It's 2 scoops of rice sprinkled with furikake (seasoned nori flakes), macaroni salad, and four pieces of meat: teriyaki beef, fried chicken, fried fish, and Spam. So salty! So tasty!

Do you think she likes it here?

Desert Island Discs

My tween daughter Elise spent her own money on a new iPod Touch and is now the queen of the app and princess of iTunes. I had loaded all my CDs on to my own iPod when I got it 4 years ago (first generation baby!) and done nothing more than hit the "shuffle" button since then.

Last night (with Elise's help) I finally figured out iTunes and bought a few old favorites. It made me think of that "Desert Island Discs" thing they used to do on the radio, where you'd send in your favorite 3 songs and then keep your fingers crossed that they'd play them and announce your name on the radio. Does it get any better than that?

Janet's Desert Island Discs:
1. Save a Prayer by Duran Duran
2. This Time by INXS

and, drumroll...Better Man by Pearl Jam, probably my very favorite song in the history of songs. Does my age show? Elise says my songs are lame but hello. Her favorite song is called "My Life Would Suck Without You."

What are your Desert Island Discs?

Childhood Summer Games

Subtitle: What were we thinking, and where were our parents?

If you're a parent, you've probably uttered following words to your kids at some point this summer: "You know, when I was a kid we didn't have (insert electronic device here). We played outside." We say it as if it were a much healthier and wholesome thing, as if we all went outside and laughed and everyone got along. But when I really think back, these games tended toward the brutal.

Here are a few outside games guaranteed to give your kids more than carpal tunnel on their video game arm.

Crack the whip: Everyone joins hands--how nice!--in a big line. This is where your mom pats herself on the back and then stops watching. The most popular (read: bossy) neighborhood child gets to be the leader, who proceeds to run quickly in the curviest line possible. Do not let go of anyone's hand! The people at the end become the whip crackees, and their necks are flung back and forth in a way that would make "Wipeout" seem like a walk in the park.

Red Rover: This game is for a large group of children, so we played it in school with credentialed instructors supervising us. Half the class stands on one side of the field, and half on the other side. Again, you all join hands and then one side chants, "Red Rover, Red Rover, send (one kid's name) right over!" That kid then runs as fast as he can and tries to break through the other team's wall of arms. The force of the running child will certainly break your hands apart, so you have to hold each other's forearms. This is guaranteed to break a radius, if not an ulna, but if you're the one to let Jimmy break through, your popularity on the playground will take a serious nosedive.

Mother May I: This game will not hurt you physically but someone will always end up with a bruised ego. The leader stands at the end of the driveway and everyone else lines up at the other end, with the goal of reaching the leader first. Then it goes something like this:

Leader: Best friend, take 10 giant steps forward.

Best friend: Mother may I?

Leader: Yes you may.

and then...

Leader: Little brother, take 8 baby steps forward.

Little brother: Mother may I?

Leader: No you may not. You may take 5 giant steps backward.

Little Brother: Mother may I?

Leader: Yes you may.

I won't even go into King of the Hill or pink bellies. What was your favorite "wholesome" childhood game?

Parenting Tips (from a Highly Imperfect Mom)

I make parenting mistakes on a daily (if not hourly) basis, but today I'm sharing a few of the minor victories I've scored in the "us vs. them" department.

Give them things they love…so you can take them away. The most valuable thing we can have as parents is ammunition. I'm more excited than they are when they get a new Wii, cell phone, iPod, because when they smart off to me or don't clean their room (for the umpteenth time), I can threaten them with no Wii, cell phone, iPod, and they'll straighten up, toot-sweet.

Make their bad behavior work for you. Putting kids in a time out chair can be effective, but how is it benefiting you? In our house, there are always things on the floor, on the counter, in the playroom, in the yard, that need to be put away. For nearly every minor infraction, our rule is "pick up 10 things." That means find ten things and put them where they belong. If there are Legos on the floor, it's easy. If it means picking ten weeds, it's a little harder. This punishment has a side benefit--you don't get as infuriated at the same old frustrating behaviors when it means a shiny clean living room for you.


Envision the long-term. It may not be a huge deal that they call you a name now, but what happens down the road may not be so innocuous. When Sean called me a dumb stupidhead at age 4, my brain fast-forwarded 13 years, and I pictured him calling me something much worse, then grabbing the car keys and heading out the door. So instead of laughing at his insult (I mean really, can't he do any better than "dumb stupidhead?" That's something a 3-year-old would say), I made him pick up 10 things.


Take all advice with a grain of salt, aka trust your gut. My first son did not crawl. He was on target in every other way except this, but instead of being happy that he was developing normally, I listened to all the people who advised me that not crawling is directly tied to reading ability, and Sean would certainly flunk out of Happy Times Preschool. Nearly 15 years later, I am happy to say that he reads normally--which means at 10 p.m. the night before his essay is due.

And in the "saving the best for last" department: Don't ever say, "My child would never..." I promise it will come back to haunt you on your very next baby.

What are your best parenting tips?

The Funny Book

I've done a lot of things wrong since I became a parent 15 years ago, but one thing I am great at is writing down the funny things my kids say as they grow up. I keep a journal for each child with their unintended witticisms. Every six months or so, somebody will ask to pull out the journals and we'll spend 30 minutes reading them out loud as a family, and laughing all over again. A few favorites:

Sean saw a man dressed up in a Leif Ericsson-type costume.
Me: "That's a viking hat."
Sean: "But why do we have to vike in it?"

Elise wanted Auntie to play pretend with her.
Auntie: "I don't want to right now."
Elise: "But pretend you want to."

Our cat Bobber peed in the laundry room.
Max: Why?
Me: Well, Bobber's an old man.
Max: Does Grandpa pee in the laundry room?

It was pouring rain and I had plans to walk with a friend. On the way to preschool, Max and I saw a woman jogging in the rain.
Max: I don't want you to do that.
Me: Well, I think we are going to go to a place where we can exercise inside.
Max: How about Trader Joe's?

Sometimes I throw in something funny they've drawn, or have them record milestones in their own writing.

These books are definitely on our list of "things to grab in case of fire." What are some of the cute things your kids say?

Misunderstood Lyrics

The other day I heard the old AC/DC song "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap" and it took me back to my childhood, specifically our neighbor Christian, who swore it was called "Dirty D and the Dunder Chee." No amount of demanding to know what a Dunder Chee was could convince him otherwise.

Fast forward to high school and the Clash's "Rock the Casbah" which has been misconstrued in myriad ways, including "Rob the Cash Box," which is what I thought it was called for the longest time.

Fast forward once more to my son Sean, age 4 at the time, singing from his CD of nursery rhymes. When he got to "Little Jack Horner," he sang, "He stuck in his thumb and pulled out his lung," and I just about peed my pants.

It got me thinking about the potential bloggability of this subject. I Googled "misunderstood lyrics" and came across a Web site called, what else, kissthisguy.com. Long after I should've started making dinner, I'm still crying with laughter at some of the misconstrued song lyrics.

Here are a few favorites:

Pink Floyd, Another Brick in the Wall
No dogs are spazzin' in the classroom

REM, Losing My Religion
Let's pee in the corner, let's pee in the spotlight

J.Geils Band, Centerfold
My anus is the center hole

Bon Jovi, Bad Medicine
Your love is like bad venison

Madonna, Like a Virgin
Touched for the thirty-first time

Do you have any gems to add?

The Dark Side of My Kitchen

This is what I want you to think my kitchen looks like at all times...

...but the reality is more like this.

I spend a lot of time blogging. I spend a lot of time cooking for my blog. But what you probably don't know is that I spend just as much time cleaning junk mail/dried on food spots/cats off my countertops/sinks/refrigerator, so that when I take a photo, everything is sparkling clean.

Oops! Forgot about the gumbo.

Oops! Forgot about the gravy.

I also spend more time than I'd like to admit doctoring up my food so it looks perfect when in fact, I burned/undercooked/dropped it. When you see gravy or whipped cream covering one of my concoctions, be suspicious.

Does your kitchen ever have a moment?

Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Mother's Day! Today I posted for the CCCOE (California Crafters of Etsy) blog, with some great finds from members of that team.

Flowers...and a Mystery

Aren't these flowers pretty? They smell even nicer. And guess what? They might be hot. As in stolen. I may have purchased stolen merchandise.

In my town, you can point your car any direction, start driving, and eventually run into a farm stand, or at least a house with a table in the front yard with homegrown lemons (or strawberries, persimmons, or pomegranates) piled high, along with a strawberry basket to put your money in.

So back to the flowers. I was driving to my daughter's school when I passed a farmstand--actually, just a table with a pop-up canopy over it, next to a field. On the table was one bucket filled with sweet peas (my favorite flower) and a box that said, "Honor system: $3 per bunch."

But the guy was sitting there, so I said hello and handed him $6 for two bunches of sweet peas. He gave me a third bunch for free. How nice of you, I said. As I got in my car and looked in the rear view mirror, I saw him stand up and walk away, down the street.

Was he going for a lunch break? Or going to spend the $6 he just made from someone else's flowers? I guess I'll never know but if it was a scam I have to admit that I slightly, just slightly, really just the teensiest bit, admire his ingenuity. (But if you ask me in front of my kids I'll act horrified and deny that.)

Warts and All

Sean biffing it while his friends cry with laughter at his expense.

Elise, happy to get a hug from her brother.

Max (right), cheating on his homework.

One of my blog readers paid me a compliment today. Was it on my crystal clear photography? Hardly. My brilliant cooking techniques? Think again. “Thank you,” she said, “for not portraying your family as ‘sparkly.’” And you know, it’s one of the nicest compliments I’ve received in a long time.

With the divorce rate in America hovering around 50%, how is it that nearly every person you meet on the Internet has married their soulmates, and gone on to have perfect children who spend most of their time sitting Indian style with their hands in their laps?

When I was pregnant with my second child, I worried all the time. Would my baby be born healthy? Would my son hate his new sister? Could I manage it all? When I confided in an acquaintance, she looked at me like I was crazy. No, she never worried, she said. Everything was great, always was and always would be. When I relayed this conversation to my friend Amy, she responded this way: “Moms like that are dangerous. Do not talk to her ever again.”

So here’s to my family—my husband who has never surprised me with a romantic getaway but will nearly always go downstairs to get me a glass of water. My sweet 15-year-old son who has yet to learn how to use a napkin. My 12-year-old daughter who was voted “most compassionate” by her classmates but rolls her eyes and stiffens in the most infuriating way if her little brother tries to hug her. And of course, my 8-year-old boy who sometimes “just wants to be with me” but who will never learn to say “excuse me” instead of “safety” when he, you know (which is a problem as well). Warts and all, I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Amazing what a trip to Disneyland and a caramel apple will do for familial harmony.