Hot Child in the City

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.

Mind Your P's and Q's

I hopped on the subway at 59th Street and Columbus Circle. I had Connor in his lime-green "subway stroller," which translates into being small, nimble and commuter friendly. I had just picked up a strawberry shortcake from Whole Foods to surprise my husband with one of his favorite post-dinner treats. It was hot and the air was sticky against my skin. My sunglasses were sliding down my nose and Connor's hair was beginning to curl up in a fight against humidity.

As the screeching slide of the train came to a stop, I maneuvered onto the subway car and took my place standing in the corner. On days like today I miss driving. Air conditioning. Private space. Spot to store my bags of groceries that were beginning to sag my arms down like wilted flowers.

In the corner of my eye I caught an ugly stare from a lady in pretty shoes. I knew the type. The kind of New Yorker that equates children to animals, just in better clothing. I had nothing to worry about. Connor loves riding the subway and has never thrown a fit (eep! except for that one time when he was a newborn). In any case, the heat had subdued him into submission and a tin of Cheerios finished the job.

As the car jerked to a stop at the next station, I explained to Connor we were passing through 42nd Street, where Times Square is, the hot dog vendors and the big, indoor ferris wheel. I noticed an emptied seat, so I clutched the wobbly stroller, dragging along my paper bag of delicate sweets along with me. A man with dark glasses and purple flannel brushed past me, vigorously diving into the seat. Whatever, I thought. Nothing like a side of decency to go alongside my dessert.

As we bounced and lulled on our ride downtown, I thought about what I often think about here - how out of place I sometimes feel with a child. The city is wonderfully large, but so many times it seems to shrink, unable to accommodate someone of even a small stature. As the heat swirled around me, the bodies of people hopping onto the subway smushed me deeper into the train, I felt stuck, suffocated almost. 

When the train lurched into my stop, I squeezed through the hoard of people, barely crossing onto the platform before the door whirled shut and the train sped off. I felt defeated. Alone. Less than the lady with the pretty shoes and the gentleman, ahem, man, in the purple flannel. 

As I bounded across the crosswalk, I saw a bouncy-haired brunette brush shoulders with an equally suave gentleman. Irked, I guess, that his step was thrown off sync, he turned and shouted an obscenity at the lady and went right back to his phone call.

I guess sometimes the city isn't big enough for any of us...

I Heart Paris

I fell asleep the night before with the French-style windows open, so the cool breeze outside would puncture a hole in the stuffy air of the hotel room. The next morning the breeze brought in more than a chilly draft. The smells of Paris early in the morning when bakers are humbly bent over wooden tables creating fresh, flaky croissants and piping hot crepes for the morning crowd tickled my senses awake. Outside the picturesque Eiffel Tower peeked out from above nearby buildings, willing my eyes to open. Next door, the cheese shop was coming alive; the owner bustling down the street with a box of steaming baguettes. These are the sights and sounds of Paris. And every morning I woke up feeling as if I were in a dream.

I have arrived back from my trip to the City of Light. I wish I could better capture in words or photographs what an absolutely enchanting city Paris is. The grand architecture from a time gone by makes you feel as if you have been transported into an old black and white romance movie. The charm oozes from the cracks in the cobblestone streets and rises from above the banks of the Seine. Melt! I was breathless for most of the trip.

I took in as much as I could. I drank kir into the wee hours of the morning where fashion designers Karl Lagerfeld and Yves Saint Laurent used to frequent. I ate macaroons in Coco Chanel's favorite tea room. I was a cheesy tourist snapping shots of the Eiffel Tower. I cruised the banks of the Seine, both by foot and boat. I marveled at architecture for hours, from the Crillon Hotel to the Opera House. I smiled at the Mona Lisa. I ate crepes at midnight, dawn and many minutes in between. I perused tiny clock shops in the outskirts of town and swooned over high-end fashion houses on Avenue Montaigne. I lost myself on some of the most darling streets I have ever seen. I dreamed of driving a light-blue Fiat. Mostly I just spent time pinching myself that I was in this wonderful city.

I definitely left a piece of my heart in Paris and felt a bit heartbroken at having to leave. I have a stamp on my passport to remind me that, yes, I really was there. {Oh, and I may have brought back a pair of Chanel shoes as a reminder, too! Swoon!} But, would you like to know the best cure for mending the sadness of a lost love? Touching down to views of the Empire State Building and one adorable itty bitty city baby waiting for you at home! Happy face!

Is there any city or place that you have left behind a piece of your heart?

{I have uploaded the rest of my Paris pictures on the Facebook fan page, so stop over!}

American Girl in Paris: Part Une

I believe it was the beloved Sarah Jessica Parker who said, "Sometimes the best thing about living in New York City, is leaving it." I'm going to try that theory out myself today. I'm saying au revoir to America for a bit and am skirting across the pond to Paris by way of Amsterdam. Squeal! I have been daydreaming about this trip since my days of sitting through elementary arithmetic class, so even if my flight happens to be cancelled or that crazy volcano starts spewing out ash, I'm pretty sure my excitement could just float me right over the ocean! 

I'll try to do some live reporting from the City of Light, but rest assured that if I fall off the radar for awhile, that I am probably studying the Mona Lisa at the Louvre, noshing on cheese and baguettes in the Luxembourg Gardens, driving through the French countryside to the Champagne region, staring at the Eiffel Tower or lounging along the Seine with a good book. Oh, you might also find me hustling my husband for some Chanel on Avenue Montaigne. Swoon!

I'll miss you dear readers. Au revoir for now! I wish I could pack all of you in my suitcase and we could sip champagne and gaggle over French artists. For now, I'll share some photos I have been pining over to prepare me for this sweet city!

{Photos via Sea of Shoes, Cup of Jo & Apartment 34}

Would You Live in NYC? First Edition

New series, loves! I am having a whole host of visitors this summer, so I've decided to morph into journalist Andrea when they are here and quiz them about what they think about life here in the Big Apple. First up:

Who: Kasey, my super splendid friend

Age: Twentysomething

Location: Orlando, Florida

Number of visits to the city: A handful, mostly to visit me! Yes, I'm blushing!

Journalist Andrea: If you could pick a neighborhood to raise a child in the city, which one has appealed to you?

Kasey: I think wherever there is a lot of parks, so I think Tribeca. Maybe like a runner up would be, like, Greenwich Village.

What do you think would be the hardest part about raising kids in the city?

Maybe kids would be a little bit overwhelemed by the hustle and bustle of the big city. Sometimes maybe it is an overload of sights and sounds and people everywere and maybe it isn't the best area for a little kid to kind of start off in. Maybe that is why a lot of times parents prefer the suburbs because it is quieter and there are more open spaces. That is what I woud think because the city is so in your face. 

What do you think would be one of the best things about raising kids in the city?

There is so much to do, like seriously. You would think that there wouldn't be stuff for kids, but while there is a plethora of places for adults, there is a lot of stuff for kids to do, too. Even the museums would cater to the smaller crowd by having special programs. I kind of noticed that. You go to Central Park and there was a fair there and different festivals. There is a kid-friendly element to more events in NYC than people realize. You would think the Met is very hoity toity, and you just stand around and look at pieces of art (which is great for me) but even they try to have something for kids.

Are you a brownstone, loft or doorman building type of girl?

I don't like compartmental type living situations, so I think I would prefer a loft. I like wide open spaces, big windows. I would feel less claustrophobic. It seems very artsy, too. 

Do you have a favorite NYC experience? 

Walking over the Brooklyn Bridge, especially as the sun is going down as the cityscape begins in light up, is really a magical experience. If I'm in a shopping mood, there's no better place to pull out the credit card than in Soho. I also like to walk the Chelsea highline through the Meatpacking District and then continue walking on through Greenwich Village. I also think the walk along Fifth Avenue past Central Park, near the art vendors, is really nice. You would think the cliche walk through Times Square where all the hullabaloo is would be the best walk, but I tend to stay away from there.

If you could live in New York City, what would your dream job be?

If I had the voice and the guts, totally a star on Broadway. But in reality, I probably would be an editor for a lifestyle magazine, such as Real Simple.

As a single girl, would you ever consider living in the city?

Yes I would. It would be easier to deal with some of the struggles involved with being a young artist living in the city on my own, not worrying about taking care of anyone else by myself.  

The verdict: Would you ever live in the city with a family? 

This is where my practical side would kick in. If I had the means to raise a family in a nice part of town, such as a brownstone in the West Village, then I would consider it. But, honestly, it would be overwhelming enough to make it here on my own, let alone taking care of a family on top of that. 

If you had a dream spot to live, where would it be? 

No matter where I settle, it needs to be near the ocean, but not necessarily my current home in Florida.