Update: Giraffe Butt~

This is a follow up to the previous post about the hazards of being lulled into safety by seemingly kid friendly television shows.

So to avoid explaining the giraffe birth process I channel switched to America's Got Talent - for the most part a family friendly show if the kids don't realize that the acrobat man in high heels and glitter is actually a stripper for gay bars by profession. So tonight we sat down together to watch.....no problems....commercials begin......and a preview for a fall show comes on that ends with a man in bed yelling, "That's not your sex face! I wish it was!" Ugh.

Maybe we need to switch to mad libs before bed and avoid all parts of prime time.

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Giraffe Butt~

I am fairly vigilant about the tv remote control. Jack has parental control settings on the television and I frequently google different shows that his girls talk about to see if the content is age appropriate. I should have been less worried about ABC Family teen soap operas and paid more attention to the steathily treacherous Animal Planet.

Here is what went down:

I was watching tv with Jack's six year old son, desperately trying to avoid watching any more cartoons. So I started channel surfing and came across an Animal Planet show where they were talking about snakes and crocodiles. Win! Boy is equal parts thrilled and disgusted. I am quietly peaceful that I have dodged an hour of cartoons with characters such as the giant gumball head man. Believing all to be right in the world, I set down the remote and go the kitchen for a drink refill.

When I come back to the living room Boy is sitting wide eyed in front of the screen. He looks up as I enter and says, verbatim,

"Whoa! A big giraffe just pooped a little giraffe out of his butt! How did he do that?!?"

I have no idea.

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Cupboard Takeover~

I know I haven’t blogged in a while. I am very sorry but I have been busy slowly taking over Jack’s house, one cupboard at a time. I jest….kind of. I have been busy and most of that busy has been at Jack’s house. Also, I am invading all the cupboards. So I guess I don’t jest. It is completely true.

Reorganizing is a compulsion/skill/flaw that I have inherited from my mother and then chose to expand upon. I cannot count the number of times in my childhood that I have seen my dad open a random cupboard looking for a glass for his Coke addiction and instead finding cereal. This was usually followed by a string of yelling along the lines of “where did the damn glasses go THIS time?” I think my mom dreamed this up as payback for all the times when she would come home from grocery shopping to find a wall ripped out or all the cupboards without doors and my dad grinning and covered in sawdust explaining that he just felt the need to start a project. I can just see her brain working…..you wanna mess with my cupboards without warning? Fine. Good luck finding anything in said cupboards.

Anyway.

I do it, too. Not as form of payback but because I love the way it looks when a cupboard is new and shiny and everything is lined up in a logical order…spices with spices, cereal boxes with cracker boxes, whiskey next to vodka. And I love it when I know exactly what the contents of the cupboards are and exactly where to find them. When you really need a mixed drink the last thing you want to do is shuffle around things hunting for the Jack Daniels. And I love, love, love the entire process of organizing and simplifying.

So slowly I began at Jack’s house. Because of course I have organized my own house so much that I reorganize things that don’t even need it anymore just to see if it is possible that I could invent an even better way to organize the cookbooks. Or the bathroom shelf. Or my closet. I consistently reinvent my systems, always crossing the line between orderly and insane. One of the major perks of a new relationship is a whole new house of unexplored and unorganized territory. Even if something is organized, it hasn’t been organized by me so it is still considered virgin ground. It is like a food addict suddenly moving into a bakery. Pure bliss.

I didn’t start right away, because that would be just crazy. Hi, how are you, I like you, let me reorganize your bathroom closet because you don’t fold your towels the right way. Not the best idea. So I held it in and just kept reorganizing my desk drawers at home. After a while though, I attacked the bathroom closet. I think Jack was equal parts amazed and terrified at the speed at which I whipped through it and moved everything to a new place. I gave him some down time to make his peace with my crazy before I moved onto new ground. Then I warned him about twenty five times that if he gave me the green light to play with the kitchen I would turn it upside down on a regular basis. He, being the brave or naive man that he is, said to do whatever I wanted. Whatever. I. Wanted. Ahhhhh…..

So I have been gutting the refrigerator, completely rearranging the cupboards, meal planning, and banishing clutter as I basically stamped my name all over his kitchen. I was so satisfied that my smile barely faltered when Jack came home that same night grinning from ear to ear over his ‘finds’ at his parent’s rummage sale – which filled his entire truck and included a full size bowling pin, a stuffed wolf wearing a skirt, and foam fingers. Game on.