Popcorn Universe Presents: How to Take Your Child to a Museum as a Single Parent

Well, kiddies...it's time to break out that good ol' How-To manual and dive into something that can seem totally mundane, yet ends up being the most challenging four hours of your life.

Popcorn Universe Presents: How to Take Your Child to a Museum as a Single Parent

Part 49.

This time, I will teach you how to take your small fat child to a museum while juggling all those things entrailed...er...entailed as being a single parent. If you thought jugglers were good, wait until you get a load of these 89 steps.

So without further adieu or doo doo, let us begin, shall we?

How to Take Your Child to a Museum as a Single Parent

Materials:

1 Small fat child
1 Poorly designed stroller
1 Purse
2 Coats
2 Kid's Gloves
1 Kid's Hat
2 Size 6 Rain Boots
1 Nikon D200 Camera that never stays on your shoulder
1 Bag of Malt-O-Meal Cocoa Roos
The Internet
1 New York City
1 White Lace Bra
1 Disney's "The Jungle Book"
1 Debit Card


89 Simple Steps:

1. Wake up to the sound of Kaa from Disney's "The Jungle Book" singing "Trust in Me".

2. Imagine a yellow rattlesnake using awesome karate to destroy Kaa while saying, "MINE MINE MINE!"

3. Smile warmly, giggle, roll over and try to sleep some more.

4. Wake with a start because you feel something small and prickly going up your nose. Realize quickly that this just so happens to be your small fat child's fingers.

5. Swat her hand and tell her "No". Respond with a muffled "ok" when she says, "I want breakfast."

6. Ask her what she wants.

7. Get up and groggily pour her a bowl of Malt-O-Meal brand Cocoa Roos. Pour a bowl for yourself. Note that the clock says 7:30 - you should be able to sleep in on a weekend.

8. Go back to sleep with your bowl sitting on your nightstand without milk. Through a hazy fog, realize that you forgot to pour milk into your small fat child's bowl too.

9. Groan, get up and fix your epic failure.

10. Go back to sleep while your cereal sogs and your child merrily munches away.

11. Wake up half an hour later to the smell of meal-fluff and freeze-dried choco-powder having turned to mush in your bowl. Eat it because you're bachelorette and that's what they do.

12. Get up for good this time. Muse that you have a lot of chores to catch up on: dishes, laundry, vacuuming, etc.

13. Wave it off and say, "I'll do it tomorrow." Realize at this point if you're not going to do chores, then you REALLY have nothing else to do.

14. Note your small fat child's presence when she comes out of your room, holds up the bowl and says, "More?"

15. Consider turning her into a lawn dart for waking you up this early.

16. Reconsider.

17. Pour more cereal, watch small fat child dart back into room, then sit at computer.

18. Pull a Pooh Bear and think, think, think. Go "AHA!" or "EUREKA!" every so often, just so it sounds like you have an idea despite your epic failure to actually come up with one.

19. Surf the Interwebinet for ideas.

20. Go "Eureka!" for real when you suddenly remember that New York City is the cultural capital of the world...I.E., museums!

21. Remember suddenly that the only reason why you haven't BEEN to the museums yet is because you're deathly afraid of the subway.

22. Panic.

23. Get your towel and say, "It's going to be ok."

24. Relax. Go to your happy place.

25. Pick a museum, then change your mind to a different one - it truly is woman's perrogative to do so. If you're a man, well, you'll stick to your guns anyway... just decide to pick a place near a pizza joint because all that "intelecktual" schtoof makes you hungry.

26. Just kidding. There are quite a few sexy bachelors out there who are working on their Masters' in History.

27. Drool for five minutes. Shake your head and make the "Ayyie Ayyie Ayyie" sound like they do in cartoons.

28. Inform your small fat child that you're going to a museum for the day. Be exceptionally happy that they readily agree and are totally ramped up to get going!

29. Take an hour and dress VERY nicely. You haven't been out of your cave for a long time so you'll need to feel like a woman again, even for only a few hours. If you're a man, just try to find a shirt without too many rips or stains in it. Don't smell the pits.

30. Just kidding again, you incredibly hot and irresistable dress-shirt and sweater vest-type you. *drool*

31. Try to convince your small fat child to put her boots on her feet CORRECTLY, to put her coat on right-side up and to actually let you do her hair. Offer a Scooby Snack, then threaten time-out if there is non-compliance.

32. Stick her in time out for three minutes.

33. Finish the job and give her a Scooby Snack anyway. She needs her vitamins.

34. Grab your purse, Nikon D200 camera and your child. Get out before your house beast asks you where you are going.

35. Come back and pet the cat.

36. Drive to the Staten Island Ferry. Wait thirty minutes for the next boat. Show small fat child the fish tank. Tell her no, those fish cannot come home with us. No, they aren't for eating either.

37. Board the boat and walk in circles for thirty minutes. Keep small fat child entertained by pointing out all the different boats which could potentially become a hazard to navigation.

38. Sing "Anchor's Aweigh". Realize you don't know ALL the words so make them up as you go.

39. Marvel at how fricken' cold it is. Ponder global warming. Think of Al Gore. Laugh.

40. Disembark in Whitehall on the Manhattan side. Catch the second elevator down to ground floor and purchase MTA Metrocard.


41. Ponder how to get disfunctional baby stroller through turnstyle. Make it work with a lot of findangling, flahoolaggaging and geezohoosafecks.

42. Carry stroller down three slights of stairs with child inside. Groan when the camera slips from your shoulder. Fix it.

43. Find the right platform for the right train. Wait approximately ten minutes. Pick up child's boots as she takes them off. Put them back on. Repeat.

44. Get on train. Get squished. Get squished more. Find yourself like being in a sardine can. Breath.

45. On second thought, don't breath. The homeless dude in the corner smells.

46. Laugh when you pass Fulton Street.

47. Breath through one nostril. Half of the smell is not half bad.

48. Wonder what Confucious would have said about that one.

49. Pick up your child's boots *again*.

50. Wait approximately one hour. Get off train at 79th Street. Ask street vendor which way is Central Park. Grumble when he mocks you by saying that a giant flat bed moved Central Park three blocks east of you.

51. Punch him in the face. In your mind, of course.

52. Run three blocks in high heels. Grumble as the camera slips off your shoulder. Replace it. Repeat step until you reach American Museum of Natural History.

53. Pay $15 dollar admission with debit card.

54. Tour museum like two kids in a candy store. Take many photographs. Marvel at all of the historical wonders - past, present and future all colliding like some warp in space and time...where the individual cultures of the world have no semblance of boundry except in their multi-cultural context...become subdued and awed and humbles at the rapid fire of the bioelectrical impulses flashing across the synapses of your mind as you endeavor to soak in the...the...

55. Ask yourself why those stupid teenage idiots are laughing at the phallus on one of the "Early Humans" wax displays. Glance at it and say to yourself, "Well, I've seen worse..."

56. Roll your eyes and become annoyed.

57. Note the camera has, again, slipped from your shoulder - this time, taking your bra strap with it.

58. Grit your teeth and fix it.

59. Note that the small fat child (yourself included) is hungry. Find a tiny little frufru cafe inside. Inquire as to where the food court is.

60. Bear the tortured cries of small fat child as you leave frufru cafe.

61. Enjoy gleeful smiles once you reach the food court, some half a mile away. Pant in your shortness of breath.

62. Buy pizza and apple juice. Balancing the tray in one hand,your purse and both coats on your arm, plus that God-forsaken camera on the other shoulder and maneuvering the malfunctioning stroller with that hand, guide yourself and your small fat child to a table.

63. Exhale only when you've set the tray down. Grab paper bag to ward off hyperventilation.

64. Try to convince small fat child to eat as suddenly she's not hungry. Pretend to eat her pizza.

65. Works every time.

66. Eat quickly and go back to the museum. Again lose yourself in the fantastical wanderings of you mind and spirit...soar with the birds to expertly displayed in their taxidermied (is that even a word?) skins that one could swear them to be real...walk in the footsteps of ancient man, swim with the massive blue whale while avoiding the giant squids (not that you'd...really...WANT...to do that...), run with the lions and gemsbock and grow with the shards of crystals brusting forth from their quartz prisons and....and...

67. Note that the small fat child has grown fidgety and whiney. Realize idly that it's two hours past naptime.

68. Continue to take pictures throughout. Note that they look funny for some reason.

69. Realize it's close to four o'clock and sunlight is fading. You've never riden the subway at night.

70. Panic. Repeat steps 23 and 24.

71. Begrudgingly leave the museum. Find the wrong subway and climb aboard.

72. Groan when small fat child kicks off boots, gloves AND hat.

73. Fix the hat and the gloves. Get thrown forward when the subway lurches. Have some complete stranger roughly drag you back to the feet.

74. Note that he's touching you too long. Swat his hand and tell him you know karate.

75. Fix boots.

76. Switch trains. Switch trains again.

77. Get off the train you're supposed to be on, realize mistake at last minute. Watch in unremitted horror as doors slam shut and train shoots off like a bullet.

78. Panic. Repeat steps 23 and 24 if necessary.

79. Catch next train and do it right this time. Get off at South Ferry. Wait thirty minutes for next boat to arrive.

80. Board ferry. Mock the announcer as he goes over safety regulations for the millionth time, copying instructions word for word like Tom Brokaw. Walk in circles. Sing "Anchor's Aweigh".

81. Say, "Aw, forget it." Think of Al Gore and laugh again.

82. Disembark at St. George, Slip Number 5. Realize you don't have your military ID on you and ponder how you'll get into the secure parking area without it.

83. Explain situation to guard and sigh with relief when she lets you through. Buckle small fat child into car seat quickly and drive home as fast as humanly possible with a cop car on your tail.

84. Note that you're only doing 30 miles an hour. Sigh intermittenly. Realize your bra strap has fallen again. Ignore it this time.

85. Get home, put child to bed, and lie down for a quick cat nap.

86. Wake up .5 hours later to the soft touch of bristly kisses onthe back of your neck. Murmur in delight to your lifelong love and roll over in eager anticipation.

87. Meet cat face to face. Sigh disdainfully and throw the house beast to the floor.


88. Get up and decide to write an instruction book. Take an hour and half to do so. Note that the reason your pictures look so funny is because the ISO was at 120 the whole time while you were in a dimly lit museum.

89. Cry.


And there you have it in 89 simple steps! Join me next time when I teach you how to bake a Devil's Food cake with Napalm and a blow torch.

Now I am going to bed...WITHOUT the house beast.

By the way, ladies...don't dress up with this supreme awesome hotness to go out...




...when you'll only come home looking like this: