Sky-high heels, even higher skyscrapers, posh downtown clubs and swanky uptown restaurants. When I was a little girl in a teeny, tiny town in Pennsylvania, this is what I imagined my life in the big city would be like. The only time I left my small town was through my imagination and I took every free second to dream up as many glamorous story lines as I could. I pictured New York City in all of its glory, flashing lights, celebrities, designer bags and cosmos. What I never could have imagined is that what my life would really look like is carrying strollers through the subway, diaper bags and bottles. I always thought about what life in the city would be like for me, but I never thought about what life would look like for a child because I never thought I'd have one.
Well, I do.
And now I spend more minutes thinking about the lack of a backyard than I do sipping girly drinks. I always go back and forth about how long I can muster enough energy to balance a high-energy city and high-energy toddler that is growing and growing and growing, and the apartments, well, aren't. I have a list of pros and cons. Seriously. But it always comes back to the same question.
Are children able to be children in a land where cabs roam free?
Over Memorial Day weekend our rooftop pool opened and it has become a daily occurrence to take Connor to splish and splash against views of downtown New York City. His little feet pitter patter against the wooden planks as he makes his way for the shimmering aqua blue water. He chases his lime-green ball in the shallow end of the water and smiles at the bigger kids diving into the deep end without worry. I smile up at the city, towering alongside us. Life seems free and simple floating above the chaos down below.
I always worry about life here for someone so small, but I am realizing that a kid is a kid, well, anywhere.