Some people frown on Suburbia. I know because I was one of them. I was not excited to move out of the city. When we did, we took baby-steps; kept an alley and stayed in the county but eventually, I resigned myself and now live in full-blown Suburbia. Complete with the dreaded stereotypical chains of Panera, Coldstone, and 3 McDonalds that I could bike to (if construction wasn't so bad), matching Odysseys for every house, and the shameful diversity of a bag of marshmallows (we are actually the token minority being non-catholic / non-republican).
Despite all odds and to my own chagrin, Suburbia has won me over. I love that we have lots of different groups of friends (I never thought that would happen outside college) who play late-night cards, stop over when the front door is open, text for evening walks, carpool everywhere, kid swap, and truly know our family. I love the pre and post parties planned around PTA and town events. I love that the adults carry solo cups when we Trick or Treat and that some houses replenish the "adult treats". I love that we band together when a house floods or people need a hand. I love that countless, soccer, baseball, gymnastics, etc. outings are actually fun and that it feels like a chance to catch up with friends while our kids learn team-work and run themselves exhausted.
The total absence of anonymity was one of the reasons I originally disliked Suburbia, especially in my less discriminant youth but now, as a parent, it is wonderfully comforting to know that my children always have an eye on them. I love that my kids can safely walk/bike anywhere within a mile radius because we know someone on every block who is watching out for them (my kids are less enthusiastic and call it, "The Moms' Network of Undercover Spies").
Yesterday evening was gorgeous and as I was driving to a late work function:
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| Just One More Reason I've Grown to Love Suburbia |
I saw a well dressed man, walking down our suburban streets, calmly pushing a stroller. In the stroller was a heavily confined & very unhappy small child ---and the man was drinking a beverage out of a Target bag.
I know the story. I know that Mom has had quite enough and that Dad just came home from work to not only an inconsolable child but a crying Wife/Mother. I know that he has had quite a day himself but that he silently packed-up and strapped-in The Screamer, grabbed a beer from the fridge ("concealed" in a couple of old plastic bags) and decided the only thing to do is let this poor kid tantrum himself to sleep while Mom has a moment to shower. I know because we've been there. We live in a place where we all have been there. No judgment. No looks of horror out the open windows at the screaming child. Nothing but empathy-- and a little sigh of relief that it isn't me this time.
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