A note from the Mastiff

Magnus' Log, Aug. 29, 2013

Current Height:  Counter

Current weight: 100lbs 

Drool production:  Copious

Cuteness Quotient:  Mostly.  If you like that sort of thing
Spelling Skills:  Epic fail.

"A dishtowl was danling ovr edg of countr, cleerly ment 4 me, as it had bnn usd by 1 of the smllr personx 2 cln up bakon grees i did my prt to help clean by takin towl outside and devoring entirlee.  flavor was delishus but am feel rathr bloted.   mae snoooz 4 a minut b4 resoomng sqrrl wach"

Vengance

We caught lots of Dungeness crab while we were at the coast.  The Smaller Hooligan is nuts for fishing in any form.  So Crab was the featured (but not the only) menu item for our last night.  We also had rice, and beans, broccoli and fresh rockfish (also from our fishing expedition).  I mention this so that we all understand that no one was force fed crab.

My five year old nephew, Señor Cupcake, would like you to know that crab is horrible.  It is so horrible that when a big platter of it is placed on the table you might want to run howling out of the room and spend the rest of the meal hollering and kicking the wall.  That is what he did and he is very surprised more of us don't do the same.

We pretended not to notice the ruckus.   Actually, that is not true.  We laughed,  which made him madder.  We are mean mothers, but what do you expect?  After the fisticuffs incident between the Hooligans, our nerves were shot.   More crab for us.  And more wine.  Stat.

After the crab was cleared away Senor slunk down stairs and ate a few surly spoonfuls of beans and broccoli.  He was very put out.

Interestingly, his meltdown inspired my previously recalcitrant and grumpy hooligans to become good pals again.  Having someone else act up brought on a rush of brotherly love.

Is this what it's like to have three children?  With just two, you always can consider knocking their heads together if they don't stop squabbling.  My mother threatened to knock our heads together at least once daily.  It was an empty threat, but it got her point across:  Abbey and I were really getting on her nerves. This would be difficult to do with 3. You would need a nanny to help you do the knocking in an evenly distributed manner.  And if you had a nanny, you might not be in the house, listening to the squabbling.  It would be the nanny's problem.

 (Note:  I have never knocked my children's heads todgether.  I have thought about it though.  I have thought long and hard. I would be a terrible nanny.  Do not hire me.)

Later Gump gave everyone ice cream cones. My sister and I refrained from pointing out that when we were children, he NEVER would have let us have dessert if we had thrown a fit during dinner. Of course I don't remember us throwing a fits during dinner, even when it was really putrid, like lima beans and shepherd's pie.  Maybe we were afraid they would knock our heads together .  

I think our children's shenanigans give our parents enormous satisfaction.  I still think my mother is slipping the larger hooligan cash to give me a hard time. Possibly lots of cash.  He loves her shepherd's pie.  He says I should make it.  Grand children are sweet revenge.

The Real Hooligans of The Oregon Coast

The Man Who Lives In My House is on a trip to Ireland with his dad.  They are exploring their roots and drinking Guiness.

To pass the time until his return, I packed up my fatpants, the hooligans, some skateboards and we went to the beach with my side of the family for a few days.  We partook of the usual beach family things:  taffy, sand castles, crabbing, crabbiness (Part of the teen hooligan/mom dynamic.  What fun.)

Overall a good time was had.

There were a few minor incidentents to mar our familial bliss.  Like a teeny fistfight.  Only one punch was landed by the fist of the Larger Hooligan onto the nose of the Smaller one.

Unfortunately for the larger Hooligan (who was fed up with having things chucked at him) the Smaller Hooligan has a bit of a trick nose that bleeds quite easily--like sometimes just from a sneeze.  This does not look good when your mother comes downstairs to see what all the yelling is about and finds the younger child bleeding (slightly) into a dishcloth.

Even if you start limping and hollering about how your knee is probably broken from having a toy car thrown at it, you will not garner much sympathy.

Keeping in mind that it takes two to tango, or fight, I confiscated the cell phone AND iPod  belonging to the Larger and Smaller Hooligan, respectively.  They are locked in my glove box and will stay there until The Man Who Lives In My House gets back.  He will be given a heroes welcome, you may be sure.

In the meantime I pointed out that neither Hooligan has spent as much time reading this summer as one would hope.  It is possible that they are becoming illiterate cretins.  This is unthinkable.  Cretins I can accept, but they must be literate.

So they read.  But they got me back by refusing to read anything but the stash of Us and Life & Style magazines that were at the beach house.

They are now veritable fonts of information about celebrity hijacks and scandals.  They have told me all about Miley Cyrus' and Amanda Bynes' stints in Rehab, Madonna's gold teeth, and Christina Aguilara's plastic surgery. They know way too much about the Real Housewives of New Jersey, too.

They also had a few questions: What is rehab?  What does DUI spell?  What is plastic surgery?  Why would you want gold teeth?  What is reality TV?  Why do people watch it?  How can we get a show?

I had to give this all some thought--how do you answer these questions fully, accurately AND appropriately?  I did my best.

So It surprises me to be in the position of recommending utter trash as a fabulous starting point for Cretinous family discussions on long car trips.  Happy trails.

FATPANTS

Keri:  "So you were in Portland!  Did you shop?  What did you buy?  What did you buy for me?"

Me:  "I did shop, but it was not especially interesting.  I was on a mission for bras.  Do you know how hard it is to find 36A bras?  Especially 36As that are not stuffed with a bunch of foam to make your boobs appear larger.  I just want normal bras that will prevent my small boobs from falling to my waist. I don't wish to look like I've had plastic surgery."

Keri:  "I do not suffer from this problem.  Did you find some?"

Me:  "Yes!  One black, one white, and one electric blue.  And I got these great pants.  They are not tight!  Or Skinny!  I am over skinny pants.  I am all about fat pants."

Keri:  "No!  That is a terrible Idea!  We do not need fat pants, what we need is a diet."

Me:  "Screw the diet.  I love these pants.  My ass crack is safe from exposure and my muffin top is being embraced, not squeezed.  Now wouldn't you like another donut?"

Self Expression

He stole my fur coat.

Actually, it's not fur.

It appears to be made from a couple of bathroom throw rugs.  The garage sale hostess from whom I purchased this awesome garment ( $5) told me she bought it in Paris in 1970, and it was a big hit for the subsequent decade in San Fransisco, where she lived.  

I guess its next phase will be as a big hit in middle school.

I guess having a conformist child would be boring.  But I wish he would ask before borrowing my clothes

It is a good thing his feet are so big.  My shoes are safe.

Selective interpretations

 The Man Who Lives in My House took the Hooligans to see Elysium.  They came home exhilarated.

"It was better than I was expecting," said the man who lives in my house.  "It was very political."

I had elected to stay home as movies with lots of explosions stress me out.  "Really?"  I said,   "What was the message?"

"Blowing stuff up!"  exclaimed the smaller hooligan.

"No," said the Man Who Lives in My house,  "The message was that there should be universal health care and equal access to resources.  It was anti elitist."

"And awesome guns.  I want one!"