First an education on our toilets, and then….I will bring you into my inner circle. I will divulge the story how I was doused by a bidet.

Toilets in Tokyo are either traditional Japanese, or Western. I am not a fan of the traditional Japanese. I squatted over one ONCE. Lest you wonder, I only emptied my bladder. That was enough. I am not a boy. I have not grown up practicing my aim. I left the stall dry, but it was hard work.

Many have asked to see pictures of our apartment. Here is a piece of our bathrooms. Every bathroom has a mounted large “control.” Those are blue butt cheeks on the second and third buttons. Below shows how water shoots.

The buttons frightened me when I saw them. I have never pushed them. When I think “spray,” I think fire hose and hip boots, not a gentle wash. When I think “massage” I think serene dark room where my deep tissue is palpitated, not my rear end saying, “aaaahhhhh.” When I think “power deodorizer” I think industrial strength air freshener, not sweet aromas.

My boys have no fear of the controls. They have tested every button. They have been “exposed” to new levels of hygiene. I was content to take their word for it.

And then, I was baptized by the bidet. IN PUBLIC.

You don’t get it? See the purple button on the control panel.

I was, Praise the Lord, wearing a dress. We are on the tail end (Don’t you love my double entendres?) of summer. For the first time in many summers I am not pregnant or nursing. Unexpectedly, I look swell in dresses. Everything is where it should be.

I volunteered (insert, bird brained idea) to take Son3 into the bathroom in a fancy pants hotel. We had just dropped by for an early family dinner.

Son3 is TWO years old. Bless his little agile fingers.

Those that know me In Real Life, know I genuinely have problems sharing toilets.

I don’t share well.

I don’t use other people’s toilets without squatting. Some friends clean their toilets just for me, and let me be the first to use them. Public toilets are not my thing. Imagine me wearing a dress, ready for #1 business, NOT sitting.

Imagine a control mounted alongside the commode.

Did I mention The Bird Brained Idea to invite Son3? I thought so.

It was a bad movie. I said, “no touch.”

Make that,

“NO TOUCH!!!”

But his teeny fingers grasped the “MAX WATER” dial.

Yes, they did.

His fingers punched another button, and I heard a whirl. Why did I look down into the bowl rather than take cover?

A tube shot out like a cannon. Water blasted out and pelted my pretty polka dot dress. I screamed like a teenage girl at a Justin Bieber concert. Son3 screamed like he had seen a teenage ghost at a Justin Bieber concert. Meanwhile, the water cannon sloshed, flooding the fancy pants stall.

I got myself together, tiptoed to the paper towels, and snatched them in stacks. I tried to be inconspicuous. It was not easy with Son3 howling “WET, MOMMY, WET!!!”

The paper towels soaked the water. I went for Round Two of clean up. Somewhere around Round Four the bathroom door swung open with me bent over in my polka dots. I apologized to the lady. I told her Son3 had too much fun with the bidet. She shot me the Stranger Dagger Look every mother dreads, and disappeared into a stall.

I scrubbed my hands and Son3′s hands silly before we left.

If I feared the toilets in my apartment before, I am petrified of their Mighty Super Powers now. I do not need more bidet adventures. I will leave those to my boys.

So when we recently visited the U.S. Embassy compound for Friendship Day, I was captivated by five thousand Japanese people that wanted to spend their Saturday with Americans.The U.S. Embassy compound was open to the public, and the admission line was blocks long.

We strolled down Main Street USA and I side-glanced people armed with food. Many Japanese people loaded paper lunch plates with steaming hot dogs and hamburgers. Main Street was lined with many American regional foods. But the most popular lunch amongst the Japanese were hot dogs and hamburgers. I snagged a picture of a Japanese woman and her plate.

And I announced to Dr. Romance I had to have me a hot dog. Grilled dogs over smoky charcoal are so rare these days! They are SO superior to gas grilled hot dogs. I like my hot dogs old school.

Do you know what else made my day? When we found a sea of these hot little boxes. I had no idea that Krispy Kreme has a huge market in Japan, and many store fronts. We grabbed ourselves a baker’s dozen, along with a slew of other folks.

The boys caught eye of some hero action and walked right  up.  Ohhh to be a little man and insist on hero work!  The Japanese firefighters did not speak much English but they got the boys to spray the extinguishers at a fire target. I glimpsed at the firefighters’ shoes. They wore plain black oxfords. I could not remember what shoes American firefighters wear, but I knew they don’t wear black oxfords.

On the lawn many Japanese families picnicked, waiting patiently for the grandstand. I was drawn to their “picnic culture.” Every family, and I mean every family, whipped out tarps folded the size of printer paper. The mats colored the grass with different themes. They spread them out, and no one wore their shoes on any mats.

I was also charmed by these miniature coffee tables, like the two below. I kept wondering how far these men, like others that day, carried these little tables just for this picnic.

The Taiko drummers lured our entire family. Taiko literally means large drum and is a three percussion instrument. The drums are strung tight, and they have a different pitch based on their size. At one point there may have been as many as 40 drummers on stage, playing different sized drums, playing inspiring pieces. The energy was engaging.

The drummers danced and chanted in sync. They switched positions and drums in a warrior like way. The energy was contagious.

We had one other favorite performance, the Sesame Street cast. I tried to remember the words to their Japanese songs so I could ask a Japanese speaker to translate. But alas, I forgot! I had no idea what they were singing, but I can tell you that Elmo and friends are truly bilingual. The Japanese characters sounded exactly like the English speaking characters. They even had the same monster accents!

And since Dr. Romance volunteered as backstage security for Elmo, we were able to get a paparazzi shot!

Friendship Day was a beautiful intermixing of American and Japanese culture. The boys enjoyed the carnival games, and I enjoyed a gander at Japanese customs, up close and personal.

Add to that hopes of life on a new continent, days before his seventh birthday.

You know how we answered that?!?

WE’RE GOING TO DISNEYLAND!!!!

On Son1′s birthday we abandoned the hotel and hoofed it one extra train stop. We made a quick chow stop at his favorite, McDonald’s. We claimed a table as the line wrapped around the building. It felt like home, but better. The hosts bowed before and after we ordered. The culture extends into fast food restaurants. I cannot say McDonald’s hosts in the United States are so polite. And, it was the cleanest McDonald’s. Someone was constantly wiping or sweeping.

Next, it was a heroic ordeal to get Son1 a train card. We hiked down a parade of steps to the underground office. I do mean hike. This station had no elevator. Dr. Romance is THE MAN, though. He hoisted up the toddler in the stroller. He treaded down. I was wide eyed until others did the same.

Son1 was beamed at his train card. In Tokyo your name is printed on it. If lost, they replace it with your fare credit, OR someone can return it. That is SO different than subway culture in NYC, DC, and Boston. I am used to “finders, keepers…losers, weepers.”

We waited on the platform and by a fluke, loaded onto an express train. The ride was only 30 minutes! Time flew for the boys. They are so curious about trains in Japan and the different colored routes.

We sprung off the train at the Magic Kingdom. So we all remember, the fam posed with seven birthday fingers.

Tokyo Disney was packed like no other amusement park.  It was also the major Japanese holiday, Odon. We asked for an English map at the gate and hatched a plan. Our first stop was “It’s a Small World.”

Our boys have never been to any Disney park, not even when we lived 2 hours from Disneyland, California.  That shocks people. But, if you have been around this blog awhile, you know they have been to other amazing places. They were not been stripped of too much. So the wonder of Disneyland, “The Happiest Place on Earth” was new and precious.

We drifted along in two rows of the boat. A family of five merits big real estate on the rides! The older boys and Dr.Romance sat behind me and Son3. I relive their banter. They boiled down the places they have lived, and where they live now. And,… It IS A Small World, after all!!

Oh….and about the amusement park real estate….I just have to throw this in here. One of the most senseless reasons (okay, I have heard people actually say this multiple times) to not have a third child is that the whole family can’t ride on amusement park rides together, or sit at a table for four. That is crazy talk. Remember this blog post…remember we find beauty in BIG real estate on amusement rides. Two family tea cups scored us sidesplitting laughter.

Soon we were melting like ice cream in a hot desert. Our bodies had not yet acclimated. We spied a door that read “The Country Bear Jamboree.” So fun! It does not exist at Disneyland California anymore! The boys hee-hawed and roared at Japanese twangy bear voices set to country music.

Son1 was captivated all day. It occurred to me as we climbed up and down the Swiss Family Robinson house, and he popped up seven fingers….these days of pretend,  of imagination, and of enchantment…I have been there with Son1 for seven years. How much longer do days of make believe and fantasy last?

I don’t know. But when Son1 asked to ride the steam engine train, Dr. Romance said, “these train loving days aren’t forever.” So our hot, red, and sweaty family of five slid onto a passenger bench and closed the door.

Our last family ride before Son3 conked out was Pirates of the Caribbean. The older two boys were bedazzled by pirate gold and pirate life. We surprised them with dinner at the Blue Bayou, inside the ride.

And the restaurant surprised us all with a special dessert inside those mouse ears. And under the glow of lanterns, and beside the  sparkle of a candle, Son1′s face lit up.

He hoped brightly. He wished quietly.

We did not move in immediately. We had our last family slumber party in a pretty, pretty hotel in Tokyo. Let’s just say we rocked that place. You could not miss my American family with the three little boys. I have never felt so American in my life.

We noticed instantly that even in a packed hotel, the lobby was so much quieter than in an American hotel. The social culture here is more muted! Teens aren’t as mouthy. I did not eavesdrop husbands and wives airing their dirty laundry. Kids were not running amuck. Let’s just say in my two weeks in Tokyo I have yet to see some of this stuff.

Breakfast and dinner could have been an American free for all. You know what I mean. You know when you stay at certain American hotels that include breakfast and an evening manager’s reception? Oh, we typically stay in those hotels. Have you seen how people walk out of there with their shirts rolled into kangaroo pouches and they shove all kinds of fresh fruit, cereal boxes, and sodas in there? Yeah, the only people with marsupial qualities at the breakfast at our hotel here in Tokyo was The Farmer Family.

You know, if sodas weren’t five dollars here, and if free refills existed, we might have minded our manners. That, plus the fact I am a Diet Coke addict and guzzle it in dicey amounts. But the truth is that sodas were available all day long to us because Dr. Romance qualifies for the Executive Club Level. But dragging the tribe up there on more occasions than necessary was completely out of the question.

My kids tried. They tried very, very hard to be quiet. And yes, they know the finer points of dining by candlelight iPad screen. They tried to whisper. They tried many exotic foods we dished in front of them. But there is a ridiculous excitement about eating squid to my American boys. It takes great gusto to let everyone in a given radius know ITS SQUID.

I knew our tribe was famous when I asked a concierge I had never seen before for directions. Just one of my brood was with me. She studied me. “Ohhh. You have the three boys?!? You are moving to Tokyo, yes?!?”

I wanted to crawl under her desk.

I smiled bravely. “YES. I have the three, very loud American boys!”

She giggled politely and put her hand up. “No, it’s okay.

I knew this wasn’t all in my head. I knew people were ogling us. I insisted on silence from them as often as humanly possible for a mother of boys. But this is what happens when we tried to fly under the radar.

Okay, who puts buttons in an elevator UNDER THE RADAR?!? He isn’t even two yet.

Now, its not that I don’t love traveling with my peeps. That is simply not true. I LOVE IT. The little peeps love it, too. But I am aware that not everyone else loves us loving it. And the little peeps can get too comfortable.

As soon as our apartment was ready, it was so easy to walk away from hotel life. Finally, after staying in 16 cities over two months, and traveling 12 thousand miles by car and plane, apartment life is heavenly.

My heart was a bit anxious. Climbing Mt. Fuji is a trek many people have on their bucket list. But a six year old is too young for a bucket list. Six years old is a bit earlier than I imagined for my “someday when he is older he can join you” speeches to turn into “yes, he can go.”

Dr. Romance has waited for these days since the first time the ultrasound tech announced “It’s a BOY!” For almost seven years I listened to plans for “somedays.”  I did not know they start now. He still calls me Mommy.

Okay, so it was 3 days before he turned seven. But that still made him SIX.

I helped to stretch clothes over Son1’s limbs. He was folded up in his bed, his body still jet lagged on US time. I ransacked the luggage for snacks and hiking loot. There wasn’t much left after a 7.5 hour flight with three boys. But I handed over what I had, anyway.

Now, just to make sure I completed my motherly duties, I threw out every worst case hiking scenario to Dr. Romance. I demanded his what if plans before they stepped out the door. My quizzing was pointless though. Dr. Romance is strategic and a planner. I wanted to ask for email updates, but I refrained. They were going to the highest mountain in Japan.  I told myself I had to be realistic.  I stood at the door to our hotel room and watched as they walked down the hall in the 3am hour.

But Dr. Romance is very keen to my dreamy and dangerous imagination. He knows my need for peace. So when his email scrolled up into my inbox and I nearly jumped up and hugged the screen. He let me know the three hour bus ride to Mt. Fuji turned into six hours. Traffic out of Tokyo during the holiday week was ugly. The driver skipped the bathroom break at the halfway point, and kept the bus rolling for five straight hours. Finally, they stopped and used a traditional Japanese squatting toilet.

An hour later they finally arrived at the foot of the mountain.

My dynamic duo purchased walking sticks. After I sermoned Dr. Romance on complete safety with my firstborn child’s life, their goal was just to get to the first station. There are nine stations total, and when you reach each station, you pay to have a stamp branded on your stick.

They hit the first station with some ease. They spied the second station in the distance so they kept scaling up.

Many climbers commented that Son1 was brave to climb Mt. Fuji. They only saw one other family with children climbing. Below was the “easy” part of the ascent. This was straight UP!

To protect the climbers from potential landslides huge steel barriers lined the trail.

Dr. Romance and Son1 completed seven of the nine stations to the top of Mt. Fuji!!!  This was at a rest stop. Five stamps are showing on the stick, and two are on the back side.

They started hiking so late, they never made the downward trail at station eight. The bus was scheduled to leave at 9pm, and Dr. Romance wanted no part of a night hike!

They hiked down the trail where hundreds of hikers were still climbing up. They slid down rocks and used the steel the chain to repel down in a few places.

Dr. Romance and Son1 want to hike Mt. Fuji next summer to earn the last stamps on their walking sticks.

Maybe a little part of me is okay with that.

Hawaii will always be a home where I left part of my heart. I will never feel like a stranger on any island. Locals loved me as “ohana,” the Hawaiian word for family. Strangers showed warm kindness and generosity.

My first reminder of the Aloha spirit was dinner at Roy’s. It was acceptable for my kids to be seen and heard. Then a couple of friends blessed our family with the Aloha spirit.

Roy’s is one of our favorite restaurants. It is a super popular Hawaiian fusion restaurant. Lights are dimmed, and the feel is trendy and romantic. We have taken our children there many times.

But this time, we felt guilty. Our three kids were loud. Son3 was dramatic about not having a set of keys with him. I eventually jumped up and bought him a key chain next door. Our older two were famished but insisted on eating slowly with chopsticks.

Immediately a waitress and two waiters came to our rescue. They crafted “training” chopsticks with rubber bands and paper wrappers. They played with our kids, and told us “no worries.” Kids come here all of the time, they said. Our kids were just being kids. They weren’t digging for their tips. They really were sincere.

I know from living in Hawaii that children, or keiki, are honored in Hawaiian culture. The staff was overly kind, but Dr. Romance and I took turns with them outside watching Waikiki tourist trolleys. Our cousin ate dinner with us, so we switched to eat with her.

Our time in Hawaii was scarce, but we wanted to see two old friends. I gave them hardly any notice. I called them and said, “HEY, do you have time for us?” And both said yes, and asked what was best for us. True Aloha.

My friend D. and came to Waikiki to visit us. She is pregnant with her third. We have known each other before she had any kids, and I had just one toddler. She made my second child his baby quilt, and hosted a shower for him. I forgot to tell her that my third child now sleeps with the same quilt.

Our kids played in the water and we talked long enough for soul watering. Just before she left she handed me a plate wrapped in foil from under her stroller. She thought I could use some chocolate, she said. (You remember how I have a thing for triple chocolate?!?) She handed me a baggie of suckers pops for the kids. It is her favorite plane trick, she said. Finally, she loaded me up on snacks for my kids. She said I needed them. I hugged her tightly. The Aloha spirit is to bring a friend you have not seen in awhile a gift. I felt so overwhelmed because I should have had something for her. But she assured me it was nothing. She truly meant it. THAT is Aloha. To give unconditionally. To consider a friend before yourself.

One last person we wanted to see is Son1’s preschool teacher. I have written so much about her on the blog. She is a local author who has taught preschool for over twenty years. Son1 had her for nearly two years until we moved. She has loved our son like her own child, and set very high expectations. She is ohana to us.

We invited her to dinner. She insisted, though, on cooking local Hawaiian dinner. I called to let her know we were running late. We were surprised when she told us a whole group of folks were waiting. We were having a homecoming dinner, of sorts. It was like a family reunion. At least this time, we remembered not to come empty handed. Arriving with gifts is to show Aloha.

We were blessed by her dinner. We were sent off with more Aloha, more plane trip gifts.

Returning to Hawaii brought the Aloha spirit to the forefront of our minds. It reminded us of what it means to Live Aloha. It was a beautiful way to leave the United States.

I don’t believe that our kids are too young for all of this traveling. Our family escapades impress them far too much. They are learning Farmer Family Economics 101:

Weigh the risks against the returns.

But when I am asked about all of the traveling, I keep some of the harder times to myself. The exhaustion does not outweigh the adventure. Still, I am no different than any other mom. Don’t we all make decisions that involve risk? I am not the amazing Wonder Woman that has traveling down pat.

On the flight to Honolulu I pestered the crew many times asking how much longer. I all but begged for mercy. I stood over 3 hours of the 5 hour flight with Son3. I walked the aisles. I avoided our seats at all cost. Believe me, I had brought 813 things to distract him. I was armed. But Row 39 did not care. They were ready to skin me alive. I cannot imagine why. I was behaving myself!

After a whole lot of huffing, puffing, and giving me dagger eyes, they loudly ordered adult beverages. Nothing took their edge off. Finally, Dr. Romance disappeared and returned with 2 more adult beverages and kindly suggested they they were to “help them cope with our two year old.” All of the passengers around us were so apologetic because Row 39 was intense. No parent likes hours of public shame. But traveling with kids is not something we are willing to wait to do until they are older. So we suck up the hours on a plane.

In true Farmer Style we drove straight from the Honolulu airport to our favorite local Hawaiian plate lunch. (Plate lunch is local favorite with meat and starch.)

With a packed restaurant, Son2 let EVERYONE know he was jet lagged. So Dr. Romance and I ate in shifts. Our whole family was starving, so one of us held Son2 while the other ate. It was uncomfortable, but it worked.

Our time in Hawaii was brief and our kids needed to adjust to a new time zone. It was best to maximize our daylight hours after lunch. With bags still in the trunk, we rented boogie boards at our favorite beach.

Every face was all smiles…until Son1 staggered toward me with a mouthful of blood, and a new window in his face. He lost two of his baby teeth in the ocean, forever. We gave him the choice to risk getting back on his board or sit it out on the beach. He wiped his eyes and chose the ocean. His gummy grin made me so proud!!

Our day seemed like it was now finally going right. All three boys were in the water. Dr. Romance was the Hero Man to his sons and the king of the waves. I tried taking pictures, but Dr. Romance knew I needed a different camera lens from the car. All of a sudden our keys to our rental car were missing. We searched high, low, and deep in the sand. Finally, I felt like maybe we had done this day all wrong.

Dr. Romance checked the car. It was still locked and he could see our things through the window. He walked straight to me on the beach and in moments, he plucked the remote control out from beneath the sand.

After a day that cost our family the price of a couple of adult beverages, unfinished plate lunch, two lost teeth, and a stomach ache from missing keys, the risk of traveling with kids was worth the return.

I bet your risks make ours look tame. What is worth moving you out of your comfort zone?

I attended a pre-BlogHer conference called Pathfinders. I hesitated to sign up. I worried that I am not “big enough.” I called Dr. Romance and he told me that was ridiculous. Who wouldn’t pay $60 extra to spend a day in small session with The Pioneer Woman? He is always logical over emotional. For that, I am blessed. So I booked the extra day at BlogHer. So Ree, together with Kathryn Finney, from The Budget Fashionista co-led my morning workshop and an afternoon workshop. The day was sandwiched listening to Sandra Miley and Jess Weiner. And I took notes like a mad woman.

My two favorite quotes from Sandra Miley were:

“Every flock starts with a single bird.”

“The tall poppy is the first to get cut.“

Do those words make you think? I drank them in yesterday. They dance through my thoughts this morning.

The morning sessions started with screen shots of early blogs from the workshop leaders. We heard their milestones, their family stories, their failures, and their success points. Also, we heard why they have chosen to limit themselves from certain TV offers and even speaking engagements. We heard how Kathryn has two cell phones, one for her site, and one that is personal. She knows which to answer in the middle of the night. We heard how Ree chooses to spend as much time on the ranch as possible. This is first, because of her family, and second, because it drives her content and her brand. Their wisdom warmed me.

The afternoon session was dedicated to the women in the room. And yes, we asked very personal questions about our own writing, our own journeys, and our own needs. And Ree and Kathryn were authentic in their advice. I learned as much from the other participants as I did from Ree and Kathryn.

My biggest takeaways are these:

*Always, always, family and friends over blogging.

*A blog redesign does not have to be frequent. More important than design is content. Content. Content. Content. Content got them where they are now.

*There is a huge, huge difference between a web designer and a web developer.

*Know WHAT to invest in your site.

*Relationships and your own integrity to yourself matters.

I could go on, and on, and on, and on. And on.

I teased Ree a little bit about hugging me, since we ARE cross town college rivals. She said she should have known by my blue dress. And I said I should have known by her red necklace.

The Pioneer Woman and I at BlogHer 11

After Pathfinders, I was SO glad to go to dinner with Jen. We hung all day together at Pathfinders, too. I knew her online but we had never met in person. We hit the Burger Lounge in the Gaslamp Quarter for dinner, and rounded out the night with a BlogHer 11 Party.

Yeah, I was so tired this morning, I blew off the 630am 5k and breakfast. I am heading to lunch now. How is your TGIF?

Our time on the West Coast has been precious. It has been far from perfect, though. We have lived like gypsies between hotel rooms and family guest rooms for nearly two months. Life has been genuinely cramped and tiresome. Our family has lost privacy, routines, and expensive shoes. But this is a summer we will all remember. It is the summer that we recharged our batteries before a new and strange kind  of life we will soon call OURS.

I have been away from here for sometime. Partly, it is because I know what lies ahead the first few months after a move. I know what is coming, and I know the best way to prepare is to drink in the fullness of life as we know it now, because I have no idea what the coming months will hold.

We have been on wild adventures since we landed on the West Coast. We whizzed over the Golden Gate Bridge singing in an open air firetruck. We explored the Redwoods, and rode a jet boat in Oregon. The kids have played Go Fish with their great grandmother, and stayed up way too late with cousins. They have drawn pictures with their grandfather, and eaten their grandmothers’ home cooking. Dr. Romance and I have literally spoken hours that turned into days in the six thousand miles we drove this summer. I needed this. Dr. Romance needed this, and so did the kids. We needed to recharge, to reconnect with family and friends that we have missed while we lived in Massachusetts.

Our lives in Tokyo are unpredictable. And for THAT reason, we needed to recharge, to prepare for the unpredictable.