Sometimes I wonder why we live in New York City. To be fair, I am not alone in asking this. The boys have each requested a change of venue recently. One would like to move to “a rural community because I like silos.” The other alternates between wanting to live with various grandparents and hoping we could all live in the pretend tree house at the playground. And I think my mom never stops asking herself what the $&@% we are doing here.
As a native Midwesterner, I have spent most of my time here perfectly pleased with my surroundings. After September 11, I swore I would have to be cut out of the city with a knife and fork. But then we moved to Philadelphia, so that shows how much I know about it. (Fortune teller: another career path closed to me)
But moving back to New York with my little brood into our cozy den, the city just seems hard sometimes. There’s a lot of schlepping. There are all kinds of stores you can’t go in because the stroller won’t fit. There are a lot of unpleasantly scented elevators to get to certain death on the subway platforms. There’s lots of dog poop. There’s lots of milk to be lugged up to the fourth floor. There’s just a lot of hassle sometimes.
But sometimes, sometimes, the city gives you presents: perfect days just for you. Like the time some TV network flooded an entire section of Chelsea market and filled it with crocodiles to promote some uh . . . oh who the hell knows what they were promoting! The point is, there were crocodiles that the boys could visit at what is effectively our neighborhood grocery store! Real! Live! Crocodiles!
And yesterday, just as sort of an offhand fluke thing, we went to Wonderland! I know, I know, it is a Target Wonderland, but that doesn’t keep it from being awesome! (And free). And it just opened that day, so not very many people know how fun it is. Tomorrow, the entire city will be there and never leave so it will become one of those things that would be amazing, except you can’t see it because there are too many people. (I’m looking at you, High Line) But yesterday, it was amazing and special. Yes, it was wretched excess. But it was wretched excess on a scale that only New York seems to manage effortlessly.
See, this is how New York gets you: once in a while you get the amazing and special things that feel both like they are just for you and that you are part of some larger beating heart. Or a life size Lego pirate ship with a giant ball pit.
Maybe they have these special things where you live, too. Embrace them! I think Philadelphia has them sometimes. (But I refuse to believe that, despite what one of the Mister’s former coworkers swears, Philadelphia has waiters with tuxedos and trays loaded with glasses of wine roaming the city. That can’t possible happen, right? . . . Right?)
So yesterday was a day when I knew exactly why we live (and love it) here!
We’re home. Fist Bump.