Stop the presses and hold on to your hats, Readers! Have we found a way to time travel into a 1940s newspaper drama? No, but how cool would that be?! I mean, feisty fedora-wearing dames pounding the pavement for a story; so cool....umm...where was I? Oh yes, hat holding. Well, hold away because Awkward Mom is at it again! You know how the crazy woman fire-knife-juggled and took all the children to Target? Well, she is at it again; only this time she juggled some chainsaws blindfolded, while standing on an elephant. Awkward Mom took all 3 children to the Henry Ford Museum. (For our non-Ann Arbor readers, she took them somewhere like the Field Museum....on field trip day.)
Bear with me, I swear this relates: Super Preschooler has a Wizard of Oz obsession. Big surprise, right? Daring-do, dancing scarecrows, shiny shoes, and princesses (Glenda being a princess, according to Super P....we'll get to the good witch/bad witch aspect of it all when he is ready for Wicked.); the whole thing is right up his alley. Now, the Wizard of Oz happens to be my first movie memory. Remember when they used to show it on TV once a year? Yep, sometime in the early 80s, there was a young Awkward Mom hiding behind the couch with the Awkward Uncles , trying to escape the flying monkeys. This particular memory urged me to hold off showing it to Super Preschooler, but he tends to have a mind of his own. It popped up on Netflix one day, resplendent in its rainbowness, and he just had to know what it was. So, I turned it on and waited. And waited. And waited. (To be honest, he was utterly freaked out by the tornado and watched that part from the hallway, peering around the door frame in horrified fascination.) The second she opened that door and Oz appeared in all its technicolored glory, he sat down and never took his eyes off the screen. Witches, flying monkeys, apple-throwing trees, lions, tigers, and bears; he loved it all.
Fast forward to sometime this past fall and the Henry Ford Museum opening a "Wonderful Wizard of Oz" exhibit. An exhibit Super Preschooler found out about, who knows how. I blame Awkward Dad. An exhibit that Super Preschooler has seen 5 times now. An exhibit that necessitated the purchase of a yearly museum pass. An exhibit that is about 30 minutes away. An exhibit that has him referring to the movie as "the Wonderful Wonderful Wizard of Oz" (which, frankly, is the cutest thing ever and I hope he doesn't outgrow it for a good long time). An exhibit that he just had to see yesterday, despite Awkward Dad's return to work, Super Toddler's cold, and my complete ineptitude at juggling 3 kids in public. Oz obsessions are strong, my friends.
OK, I am not gonna discuss the car ride. Nothing noteworthy or awkward happens. Mostly because I may have the music on really loud and I may be pretending I am alone.....don't judge. We get there and I am immediately heartened by the lack of cars in the parking lot; I have high hopes of an abandoned museum and, as it is a Wednesday morning in January, they look like they are gonna be fulfilled.
OK, dismount time. Here's how it normally goes: Open the automatic sliding door closest to the boys. Get out. Get the stroller set up next to the open door. Unbuckle Super Preschooler, who is in the middle seat. Dive into the last row (hitting either my head or side) to grab Super Toddler, who is either asleep or playing with something, but always unwilling to leave. Wrestle with Super Toddler for awhile and eventually pull him out of the car seat onto the back seat (hitting either my head or side). Back out into the doorway (freaking out anyone parked next to us) and haul Super Toddler into the middle row. Have long and unnecessary conversation with Super Preschooler about how big boys can get themselves out of their car seats. Lift Super Preschooler out of his car seat. Grab Super Toddler from the driver's seat and plop him into the stroller. Struggle to hear Super Preschooler over Super Toddler's screaming. Wait for Super T. to take a breath and then explain to Super P. that Elmo has to guard the car and won't be coming with us, nor will the Halloween bucket full of 18 action figures. Place Super P. on the standing part of the double stroller, which was not intended for 2 kids. Tell the boys to stop fighting. Sigh. Grab the diaper bag out of the front seat. Push the screaming stroller towards the trunk. Tell the boys to stop fighting. Close the trunk. Sigh. Start walking to our destination. Turn back to close the automatic sliding door. Continue to the destination. Run back to the other sliding door and grab a sleeping Super Baby. Plop Super Baby and her car seat into the stroller. Resume walking to the destination. Turn back to close the sliding door. Realize that door isn't automatic. Race stroller back to van and close side door. Sigh. Lock doors. Trip. Yank stroller out of the way of a passing car. Tell the boys to stop fighting. Take a deep breath. Resume and complete journey to the door of wherever we are going; an hour late and no longer fully convinced we will be welcome here at all.
OK, you can resume your presses and let your hat go, Awkward Mom has to send you on a commercial break. She has been typing with Super Baby on her lap and just noticed a new aroma to the air. Super Preschooler has declared a need for play dough, and no one has seen Super Toddler in awhile. Best dash. Tune in super soon and we'll tell you about toy trains, mold-a-rama drama, and why the Wonderful Wizard of Oz should move their gift shop. Same Awkward Time, Same Awkward Channel!