The Small Dog Rebellion

It seems like most people have a dog in the city, but because space is limited (reason #1 why we did not bring Zoe – thanks to the Engstroms for giving her such an amazing home!!!), most of those people have small dogs – yorkies, toy poodles, shitzus, terriers, pugs, and french bulldogs seem to be the favorites. It is quite the commitment to have a dog, with the hefty pet deposits (our apartment charges one month’s rent… reason #2 why we did not bring Zoe), the poop scraping off of the sidewalk, and I hear walking dogs in the winter is quite a beating.

I’m wondering if because of this commitment, owners are more committed to the relationship with the dog – and by that I mean that most owners tend to treat these dogs as children. This includes strollers for their dogs, frequent conversations with their dogs, unrequited explanations for the passerby of why their dog is doing such-and-such, dogs (and cats) in little suitcases or large purses for easy travel on the subways and busses, and I even saw one athletic looking woman taking a brisk walk in Central Park with her dog in a sling. Really. I rather enjoy this part of culture here in Manhattan and am kind of sad that I don’t get to participate in it – if just for the hilarity of it all.

These small, pampered dogs do not seem to appreciate this love and affection that their owners so lavishly bestow upon them. Out of all the things that I get to observe in the city on a regular basis, one of my favorites is what Logan and I fondly like to call the “small dog rebellion”. For example:

PULLING with all their little might on their leash in front and to the side of their owner – to where it looks like their collar will surely slip right down and off their skinny fuzzy bodies, and their 3in legs are moving so fast they look like a blur. In this instance, their owner walks with giant steps trying to keep up, leaning backwards lest they be propelled forwards, and sometimes frantically pulling the unsuspecting dog out of the way of an oncoming stroller that would mean certain death upon impact.

SNIFFING incessantly at some unknown substance on the ground or wall of a building and not giving in to the polite requests “what are you doing? Lets keep walking sweetheart…”, rubbing their noses and then entire bodies on that aforementioned spot while their owners face grows more and more disgusted.

WAITING, patiently, as their owner becomes impatient, for a certain doorman to bring them a treat. The dogs remember every building where there is a friendly doorman, and will sit or lay down on the sidewalk in front until the doorman notices and rewards their good memory. Maybe the more surprising thing is that their owners in this situation are perfectly content to wait with their dogs for this treat, chuckling and explaining to everyone passing by why they are not continuing on their brisk walk, but blocking the entire sidewalk instead.

And – for my very absolute favorite – STOPPING. Absolutely stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, and refusing to walk any more. I’m not sure if the dog is just exhausted and feels as if it cannot go on, or if they have decided that they do not like the direction this walk is taking, and is choosing to give a clear sign that they do not approve. Either way, they win this battle every time. The embarrassed owners of larger dogs in this situation resort to cooing, “good girl, lets keep going, you can do it, that’s a good girl” while the dog lays there motionless. And equally embarrassed small dog owners make the same non-commands to their dogs while tugging them along, trying not to look like they are dragging and scraping their 5lb pet across the pavement. The dog itself plants its four tiny paws firmly and tucks its tail, and often will lie down on its side so that it looks like it is being treated inhumanely. This rebellion seems especially ironic to me when the dog is being walked by a professional dog walker, which you know is being paid not a small amount to walk this dog in the middle of the day while their hardworking owner is away.

I suspect that these types of rebellion are what fuel the stroller/purse/sling business here in the city.

Apartment Living

The population of our apartment building is pretty interesting – our neighbors are a mix of young single professionals and elderly singles who have lived in the building “forever”. I discovered the probable reason for this is that there are mostly one bedroom units in the building, and only a few two bedroom units, which we are living in. I figured that it would be easier to meet people and connect with them if they were in the same life stage as us (a young family), but I am enjoying this unexpected twist. Because we are the only family in the building, we are memorable (for better or worse) so as we are trying hard to know and remember the people we meet, they remember us just by default – we’re the ones with the kids.

One of the issues I was anticipating was the inevitable loudness of my children being a real inconvenience to my neighbors… it does not seem to be a problem. Most of the people are out of the building all day long at work, and then the kids go to bed early enough that there’s no disturbance. The only time I worry is Saturday and Sunday mornings where surely my friends in 2C, E, and F(and especially 1D) are wanting to sleep-in. I don’t feel so terrible about this though, because the people in these apartments tend to party into the night – which we can clearly hear – so it seems like a decent trade off to me J.

A few gracious gifts that the Lord sovereignly gave us in this building that I had no idea I would truly need, are an elevator and laundry in the basement. These things were not on our list of must-haves when we were apartment hunting, but I can’t imagine how I would make it without them! We’re only on the second floor, but still, that one flight of stairs is too much to carry my clumsy stroller down. And then with carrying groceries or various packages – the elevator has become a staple in our existence.

When I lived in Brooklyn the summer before I got married, our apartment did not have laundry in the building, so my roommates and I would lug our one bag of laundry to the closest laundry mat (about 4 blocks) and leave it there for the time it took for it to wash, then come and do the dryer transfer and wait. We would have to make a morning or afternoon of it in order to get it done, but it wasn’t too inconvenient.

I cannot imagine doing that now – as a family of 4. It would absolutely be too much work for us (carrying 6 loads weekly: darks, lights, whites, kids, towels, sheets/duvets ßalternating either the kids and ours each week) while pushing the stroller; or requiring Logan to use on of his days off to get it done – a hassle for him and a pretty lame option for me and the kids. I’m sure we would resort to sending the laundry out to be done, which would be very convenient (even with my current laundry situation) but they charge by the pound of laundry, so I’m sure we would at least double what we’re currently paying on our basement machines. To add to the blessing, our laundry is only $1.50 a load – apparently the cheapest around, everyone else we talk to are paying $2.50 a load.

When we came for the weekend and had a crash course in securing Manhattan real estate, we applied for 2 apartments that we much preferred to this one that we eventually were able to lease (at 6:00 Tuesday afternoon – we were leaving Wed. morning at 6am). The first apartment that rejected our application was a three bedroom railroad style walk up with a full kitchen that included a dishwasher, two blocks from the park and around the corner from an Italian restaurant and an Irish pub – pretty dreamy. The second was a third floor walk up with a giant kitchen (again, with a dishwasher) and room for a table, a claw foot bathtub, tons of closet space, a fireplace in the master, and tons of beautiful molding details and lighting from the 20’s – super cool. Neither of these options that we considered to be perfect had either an elevator or laundry. Thanks, Jesus, for saving us from ourselves and always knowing what we need!!!

I LOVE this City!

I had a rather difficult day in the city last Thursday. It was one of those days where everything seems to go wrong . All of you know how that goes…

Calvin had peed through his diaper the night before, so I had to do laundry that I was not expecting. I try to do laundry once every 5 days, and it costs about $15 to wash all the clothes (If I sent the clothes out to be washed, it would be about $30 – you pay by the pound). This diaper explosion resulted in an extra 5 trips up and down the 2 flights of stairs, the boys following precariously behind, and then the inevitable extra trip to the convenience store on the corner to get more quarters because the comforter didn’t dry in one cycle like I was hoping. $7.50 in quarters later (each wash and dry is $1.50, it took two washers and two dryers to fit the sheets, duvet cover, and comforter, plus the extra dry cycle…) Calvin can once again sleep in a clean bed.

The boys were on eachother’s last nerve from being in such close quarters, so I let Eli pick an outing and he picked going to an action figure and comic book store in the East Village, which sounded awesome. So we packed up and planned on making a day of it – took the subway all the way down past Union Square, and started walking a couple of blocks to find the store. The streets I picked to walk down just happened to be lined by alternative stores all selling a variety of bongs. Eli thought they were awesome and we stopped at most of them to look at the skulls or bright colors or whatever… it felt slightly awkward walking among all the hipster college kids with my toddlers and huge belly, gazing at bongs. Pretty funny and uncomfortable.

I can’t bring the stroller onto the subway by myself because it’s too cumbersome to carry down flights of stairs in the moving crowds while also trying to keep Calvin from tumbling down and Eli from licking the handrail. And so, if we ever take a subway trip, the boys have to walk. They were getting tired of walking down the creepy streets so I was coaxing them and baiting them with the closeness of the action figure store, when we came to the address… and it was a Ramen restaurant (did they only serve Ramen noodles? I didn’t check…). The store had closed. So I’m stuck in the heart of the trendy East Village with two very disappointed and exhausted buddies. We decided to go back home.

A 30 min subway ride later, we got back to our apartment where Eli promptly had to poop. I did not realize, however, that Calvin had clogged the toilet earlier with his poop, and so the toilet started overflowing while I plunged frantically and called our “super”, Manny, because this was the third time this has happened since we moved in and I felt like he should help take care of it this time…

I called Logan to let him know that things weren’t going so well, so he came home to fix the plumbing problem and then we joined him going back to the office b/c he had seen a comic book store close to the Empire State Building that we thought might salvage the day. In the 86^th street subway station, we passed a pile of vomit on the floor on our way to the train. When we reached the comic book store that Logan had only seen the display windows of, I discovered that it was filled with porn, so we stayed only in the toy isle – which sported some pretty busty super-women… And the city suddenly felt sinister to me.

Needless to say, I put the boys to bed early.

I think that days like these are what make people want to move to the suburbs. Luckily, I’ve lived in the suburbs, and I know that there are still inconveniences and setbacks and moments where it feels like everything is working against you. While the things I faced I would have not likely faced in Wells Branch, I’m not likely to have to deal with car trouble or hiding piles of fire ants or door to door salesmen who interrupt dinner or even a constantly growing yard while living on the Upper East Side. I’m so thankful that I know this.

In conclusion, I love this city! I have loved it for years, and I continue find more reason to love it. Because of that, I think it’s easier for me not to blame these inconvenient days on my circumstance, but instead to take them in stride. They are for my sanctification – that I may grow in patience, and fight the temtation to put up walls around myself and my family in hopes that I would not have to face these things. I want to IMMERSE myself in them instead! I want them to cause me to have a softer heart towards the people who live here. I want to grow in my desire to see these 8 million people know truly who Jesus is, and to see renewal come to the streets. I love this city!

The Old Man is Snoring

It has been raining and pouring on and off since we moved up here, which has been pretty fun. There was even a tornado in Brooklyn the week we moved up, which sent the city into quite the standstill. The majority of the damage was just broken trees, but it was an ordeal because public transit to get on and off the island shut down, which made me very thankful that we are not commuters to the city. Logan and I felt like it was pretty ironic that there was a tornado (and there have continued to be tornado watches this week) because we figured we had moved away from that kind of crazy weather!

Rainy days in the city are just as bustling as sunny ones, even in mom-world. The kids and I for sure do not have the wardrobe or extra stroller equipment for them, however. I need to find some lightweight raincoats for the boys, and a rain cover for my stroller. I’m really looking forward to getting some rain boots for myself – it has been confirmed by some of the women here that I should go ahead and splurge and get good quality ones, which I was wanting to do anyways J. I’ve been wanting to buy them every day that it has rained, but I can’t decide whether to get turquoise or black… any votes? I really want the turquoise, but the black ones are more practical, dang it.

Since we don’t have a/c in our apartment we keep it cool and keep the air moving with the windows open and fans on in each room. I figured that would be all that we would need, but I didn’t realize how muggy that would make our apartment. And I mean it’s humid in here. Cool, but sticky. My hair has never been worse. In the morning I feel slightly like I’ve been camping outside – not terribly, but slightly. It makes me think of mornings after campout at Buckner when the only thing you can think about when you wake up is how much you can’t wait to take a shower.

I desperately need to remember any humid weather strategies I had developed in college for my hair, because it’s bad. Like a lion for sure. Honestly though, how do you recover from walking 10 blocks in the rain? When I figure it out, I’ll let you know…

Let's Talk About the Weather

We visited Manhattan a few times this summer for Logan to interview and then for us to search for an apartment, and it was hot. Not 110 degrees like in Austin, but somehow it feels hotter – probably because you just can’t escape the heat. Businesses just don’t blast the cold air like in places where warm weather is a part of more of the year. And it is super expensive to keep your apartment constantly cool, so it’s pretty standard to only turn on the air when you are home, which means you come home to a sweltering apartment and then wait patiently for it to cool off.

All that to say, I’m very thankful that we moved in the fall. Especially because we decided to wait until next spring to purchase air-conditioning units for our apartment (no, A/C does not come standard). It has not been very cold, yet it seems like everyone is dressing as if it is winter – an Austin winter, that is. Everyone has already busted out their long pants and long sleeves and cardigans and scarves even – and I still feel like it is warm enough to be wearing tank tops. Really. The kids are all bundled up too, but if I leave the house with my buddies in light jackets so it doesn’t look like I have neglected their physical need, Calvin is sweating within the first 5 minutes.

I always felt like in Austin people would wear their summer clothes way after and way before the weather really allows, and I’m feeling that way about fall/winter clothes since I’ve been up here. I’m guessing people are just excited to get to wear the stuff they’ve stored away, and drink pumpkin spice lattes. And since in NY, surely people have larger winter wardrobes than summer ones, they want to start wearing them sooner – just like in Austin people have much more substantial summer wardrobes and therefore try to wear short sleeves well into January.

I, some days, will continue to wear my racer-back tanks and open toed shoes – because it is hot when you are walking around and pushing a stroller and growing a human at the same time, for crying out loud. Other days I indulge my self and wear my favorite scarves and sweat. I have not yet busted out my boots (although I am anxious to do so!) because it just seems like overkill to me…

The New York Freak- Out, Part II

The other side to the coin of reacting to someone’s need…

Obviously, I love my buddies and hate it any time they get hurt. But lately, I’ve noticed that my compassion for them when they do hurt themselves from doing something that maybe I just told them not to do (maybe) or that was completely irrational for them to do in the first place (how much rationale do I expect from a 4 and 2 year old? Maybe I expect too much…), is a little low.

This has come to my attention as I have tried to teach Eli a little more compassion for his brother. If Cal gets hurt, Eli’s first reaction is “I didn’t do it!” instead of going to comfort him. Which I recognize is at least partly a result of how I’ve trained him, and partly evidence of how frequently Cal’s cries are a reaction to something Eli has done J -and visa versa. I’m trying now to model and train for Eli to react first to Calvin (or anyone’s) hurt by caring and comforting them, regardless of who is at fault.

That should seem obvious, but I see how great of a need there is for that kind of compassion here in the city. People are often numb to other’s cries. And it seems like there is good reason for them to be, actually. For example: when we were here looking for apartments, we came upon a man at the 86^th street subway stop who was wildly crying and clutching at his leg which had a great gaping wound in the skin. Everyone passed him by. No one stopped to help, they all pretended, uncomfortably, that he was not lying in their path, bleeding and begging.

I didn’t know what to do. I knew money wouldn’t really help, but surely we could call him an ambulance? We were with my uncle, and he commented that what we were doing with our church was more effective than anything we could do for this man in the moment, and in response to other’s reactions, he explained that “sometimes, your New-Yorker overcomes your humanity” – which I felt was a very genuine and helpful observation. I dreamt about this man several nights, and genuinely prayed for his healing – regretting that I had not helped in any way.

Yesterday, walking towards the 86^th street subway stop with the boys, I saw this same man, in the same condition, behaving in the same way. His wound had not healed, it looked completely unchanged. It was at least a month after my first interaction with this man, and to see him in the same state may have been even more unnerving than my first encounter with him. Either he had gotten no help and the money that had been thrown in his cup had gone in no way to assist his healing, or this was a show that he kept up and put on. Both options are disturbing.

The reactions of the people passing by reminded me a little of Eli’s “it’s not my fault!”, “it’s not my problem”, “he did it to himself”, “I’m busy playing with my nerf gun (insert: any form of business that we consider to take precedence over showing mercy)”. It is my hope that his reaction instead would be that of Christ – “I will take your burden” “I will pay the price that you deserve”, “My love for you can heal your hurt.”, “I am ALWAYS here for you.” I hope that by the grace of God I can model that reaction for him, within my own family and in our city.

I’m asking Jesus that my compassion for others would not be numbed by experiences like this, but that it would only be deepened. That He would give me wisdom in how to be like Him, the example he gave of the Good Samaritan, in these situations. I don’t yet know how to handle them, especially with my two toddlers in tow – but that should not deter me from showing mercy. It certain that there will be, but I hope for many more opportunities to not just feel compassion, but to comfort someone in their need.

The New York Parent Freak-Out, Part I

On Logan’s first Friday off from work (yay!) we went to the Museum of Natural History. The church actually got us family passes to this museum as part of a welcome present – super generous and greatly appreciated! This museum is actually very nostalgic for me because we would go with my grandparents pretty frequently when I was a kid. It was one of my grandpa’s favorites, and therefore mine as well. Lots of vivid and fond memories for me surrounding this place – the maze of life-like animals, the breathtaking dinosaur skeletons, the giant whale... All pretty unforgettable, and magical as a kid. So I have been really looking forward to taking the buddies there. The central park carousel and the museum were the two things we baited the kids with as we talked to them about moving to the cityJ.

We had a fantastic time! Calvin’s favorite was the exhibit with the giant whale, and Eli’s was the dinosaurs. There were more interactive computer stations than when I was there last, and the kids especially liked those. We definitely bit off more than we could chew thinking we could explore the whole place in one morning. We didn’t get to the ancient mammals, and Eli really wanted to see a woolly mammoth. Next time. Logan and I would love to go back on a date to really check out the Haden Planetarium – so much information to think through! Not very toddler friendly though… at least until Logan and I know enough to be able to talk through the exhibit with them.

We stopped to have lunch at the food court where we ate the typical pizza and chicken fingers that you would expect (there were probably better options – like the salad bar – but on a kid day, is it really an option?). And as we are trying to coax the kids to eat their lunch (as if we had gotten them a giant pile of vegetables) a catastrophe happened. I mean a catastrophe! The little girl – who was celebrating her 2^nd birthday at the museum with her parents and grandma – sitting at the booth across from us bumped her head. Yes it’s true! She bumped her head! The horror! The agony!

To her parent’s credit, the accident didn’t look pretty. She was standing on the seat of the booth, and slipped – bumping head on the table before falling under it. It would have, could have, been comical except for how her family reacted to the fall. It was as if she had fallen of a cliff. They scrambled to rescue her from the great abyss under the table, and then proceeded to pace in front of the booth for a full 15 minutes with the girl screaming and crying.

It was a perfect opportunity to teach the boys politeness and what “staring” means. But who could blame them for staring, really – it was as if the family wanted to be an exhibit to watch and analyze. Eventually, a woman who was a certified nurse came over to inform the family that the bump on the little girl’s head that was accompanied by a reddish hue was perfectly normal and in fact a good sign of her body healing herself. It was only then that the mom took her daughter to the bathroom to calm down, and the dad and grandma recovered at their table.

This whole interaction reminded me of my childhood… The theatrics! The colossal concern for physical safety! The raised voices and frantic reactions! The embarrassed but slightly amused looks from people watching! It made me thankful that I began my parenting “journey” in Austin around laid back and practical moms who knew how to distinguish between a real emergency and just a bump on the head. I enjoy parenting much more because of it. I’m thankful that I got to watch other moms handle difficulties with humor instead or horror. Hopefully, my kids will enjoy more and feel able to handle any situation because of it. I feel like my life is so much richer because of the relationships I have gotten to have with all of you!!!

The Phantom Cat

Until a couple of days ago, I was convinced that the previous tenants of our apartment had owned a cat. A fluffy white long haired one, probably. Every time I vacuumed the floor, there would be what looked like white cat hairs stuck in the vacuum bristles. I told Logan my cat theory, and of my surprise that I could still be finding and cleaning up so much of this animal’s fur that was left behind. He responded with his own theory, that it is not the evidence of a phantom cat, but it is actually our new rug shedding. Unfortunately, he is right…

Our new-place purchase for this apartment is this awesome rug from CB2 – it’s a medium gray color with a wide stripe down the middle of off white spots in an abstract grid pattern. I love it. The 5’7’ size fits perfectly in the angle of our two couches and it defines the “living room” in the living room/eat-in-kitchen combo that we made the middle room of our place. I don’t regret the purchase because it’s a killer rug, but oh the vacuuming!!!

This living area, which consists of the rug, a play table, our couches, and our two side tables, is where the kids and I spend the majority of our time in our apartment. As a result, we kick up a considerable amount of fuzz from the rug – it seriously looks like hairballs! By the end of the day there is a thick layer of fuzz clumps littering the exposed carpet area, and sneaky clumps that have found their way into every other corner of the house. Especially under the kitchen table. Anything dropped on the floor is immediately covered in this “hair”.

And so, I have resigned myself to vacuuming once a day. This really is not as much of a chore as you may think, because the surface area that I need to cover is not large. I usually get it done while Logan is washing the boys up in the tub, and it takes all of 7 minutes – including the time spent pulling the vacuums out of their hiding spots in my closet, and then stuffing them back in between the extra paper towels and the laundry soap. The carpet issue is actually a great excuse to keep me on the ball with cleaning, and in a space this size it really only feels relaxing to me if it is not cluttered or even remotely dirty. It is also probably helpful that I have plenty of hormonal nesting energy motivating me!

Can it be true?!?!

Yes, I have a blog. Not only that, but I have blogged. Be utterly amazed!

I promised most of you that I would start one now that I have moved out of your everyday lives and into your occasional thoughts, because I miss each of you terribly and am more than motivated to stay in touch across the miles! So, I figured I'd start a blog specifically chronicling the adventure of my transition from suburban Austin to up-town Manhattan. I guarantee that my entries will be full of slightly insignificant ramblings and the occasional retelling of a monumental moment - just as our every day conversations would be if we were at Chick fil A or any park :).

As I continue to meet new people through the church and chance meetings throughout my days walking around with the kids, the most common question that I get asked (after: "are those YOUR children? is that your THIRD coming soon?!?") is: "so, how are you adjusting to the city?" And it seems like most people that I have talked to have a considerable adjustment period, filled with disappointments and occasional tragedies and inconveniences. We have definitely experienced all of these. But our love for the city and for the people who join us in calling it home has far outweighed those things in our minds - almost to the point where they are not thought of as negative, but rather just all part of the ride. The city feels like home - and our new lifestyle, "normal", which I believe is the grace of God in our lives for sure.

Well, I miss you all terribly, and I hope that really we can keep up our friendships in some way through the delightful inter-web :). Love!