life of an ex-suburbanite
Tuesday, April 27, 2010 at 1:07PM Welcome darling readers to my lovely new Internet home, Stories from the Stoop.
A little over a year ago I was a card-carrying, suburban-Stepford wife. That membership has long expired. I have since said goodbye to white picket fences, homeowners associations and that one particular neighbor who was always competing with me for Yard of the Year. My husband, Greg, my itty bitty city tot, Connor (who is now almost 20 months) and I, packed up and headed for greener pastures, well, okay, maybe not 'greener' pastures, literally. We traded in our backyard in the suburbs for a stoop in the city. Views of perfectly primped hedges for views of the Statue of Liberty.
When we pulled into Flat 521 as suburban refugees, our life stuffed in boxes in a U-Haul, and a fragile baby, still gummy, squishy and new in tow, I had no idea if we would make it.
We did.
Our trip down the yellow brick road to the Emerald City over this past year has not always been easy. I had meltdowns in the subway trying to maneuver through a sea of black suits with a stroller. I had worries about trading in home ownership of our little blue bungalow, to rent a shoe box-sized apartment in the city. I spent sleepless nights wondering if a city this big, would swallow up a child so small. I also had moments of pure bliss when Connor and I ventured out for nightly strolls to see what color the Empire State Building was and when he made his first French girlfriend at the fountain at Washington Square Park. I smiled as I teetered in tall heels past the skyscrapers of the city, tackling the world of New York City publishing from a cubicle in Times Square. I swooned with delight as I celebrated the first year of my son's life in Central Park, a symbol of our new life. In the end, not only did we make it, I have never felt so alive.
People come to the big city with big dreams, and I was no exception. The first year here was spent working, working and working. I assisted on photo shoots with A-list celebrities, worked from sun up until sun down and then sun up again, dined at five-star restaurants and ogled at shoes in the windows of Fifth Avenue stores. That first year, all I saw were the glitzy bulbs of New York City, blinding me to the realities of actually settling in here.
That year has passed.
This is year two. Now it is time to make this city home, to plant roots. It is time to make the big decisions. Is this the final stop for us? If so, where are we going to buy and adjust to life as city dwellers - Tribeca versus the Upper East Side, Park Slope versus Brooklyn Heights? Will I snag that dream brownstone I have so admiringly conjured up in my mind? How am I going to secure a spot for Connor in a top-notch school? Or the bigger question, how am I going to afford it? I know this city is big, but does it have the space for my family to grow? Am I going to continue pounding the pavement as a working mom or let my free spirit reign and settle into life as a full-time freelancer?
Onward we go to Year Two. Stay tuned...
Reader Comments (2)
...so lovely.
Wow, just reading this now after your latest post. So interesting. Another year under your belt.