We experience no greater happiness than stumbling upon one of the city’s iconic street fairs while strolling outside with our little ones. “No thanks – I don’t like fried dough,” said no child ever.
Spending a few days in the suburbs arduously loading our babies in and out of car seats gives us a newfound appreciation for the ease of running errands in the city.
The UES Mommas Facebook group is our holy grail for parenting advice, product recommendations and exploitations of nannies behaving badly. And although we won’t admit it, we love watching the Oscar-worthy drama unfold when moms go head-to-head over the most controversial topics.
We enter the bus at the rear so that we won’t have to fold our strollers. If the bus driver didn’t see it, did it even happen?
We get annoyed when we see people leisurely walking down the sidewalk hand in hand. We know you love each other, but please don’t monopolize the only passageway separating me and my midget psychopaths from the tranquility of nap time.
We are equally agitated by clueless pedestrians who stop suddenly in front of our strollers. People driving cars know such deviant behavior leads to getting rear-ended, but many pedestrians still remain oblivious. Learn some sidewalk etiquette and keep it moving, amateurs!
Choosing between Uppababy and Bugaboo is a critical decision that requires multiple visits to Giggle or Buy Buy Baby, hours of second-guessing and countless revisions to our baby registries. After all, we need all-terrain vehicles capable of conquering demolished asphalt (thanks, Second Avenue subway construction), maneuvering around potholes and schlepping to Bloomingdales even in inclement weather.
We’ve all been there – we reach the crosswalk just as the countdown clock arrives at single digits. Enter creepy pedestrian, abruptly violating our bubble of personal space while marveling at our sweet defenseless babies. I’m flattered that you think my baby is adorable, but that doesn’t authorize you to caress her perfectly dimpled hand with your filthy meathooks. Within seconds my baby’s hand (and your germs) will be inside her mouth. Gross!
We can change a diaper anywhere, including the back seat of a cab, park bench or even on our laps . . . in the dark and with both hands tied behind our backs.
The effort we put into our friendships with other moms is directly proportional to the child-friendly amenities provided by their apartment buildings.
There is nothing more exciting than discovering a new restaurant that offers the ultimate brunching bonanza – both bottomless mimosas and high chairs.
We attend the “Cry Baby Matinee” at the City Cinemas East 86th Street theater, a rite of passage for all East Side moms. Rather than sneaking in candy from Duane Reade, we arrive with an arsenal of sippy cups, Puffs and Cheddar Bunnies, all of which will most likely end up on the floor.
We can multitask better than any of our suburban mom friends.
The city sandbox is no replacement for the beach and we loathe this playground Petri dish. Really, what’s in that thing?
We know the precise locations of every Mister Softee truck within a 2 mile radius.
Summer marks the beginning of sprinkler season in most of Manhattan’s public playgrounds. In addition to water shoes, we buy several pails, shovels and watering cans even though our kid will most likely just poach water toys from other kids at the sprinklers.
Our children think that “lobby” is a number between 0 and 1.
We go to great lengths not to disturb our sleeping children – a note on our doors asking deliverymen to “knock softly,” expensive soundproofing of walls and windows, and then the doorman rings the buzzer to alert us to a food delivery, except we didn’t order food and he buzzed the wrong apartment, and now the kids are awake and screaming. Ahhh!
We scoff at the ultra-competitive world of New York City nursery schools, but inevitably spend hours making spreadsheets comparing the philosophies of education, tediously filling out elaborate applications, writing extensive entrance essays, and subjecting our children to playgroup interviews.
On rainy days, our children flock to this Upper East Side hangout, where they abandon their strollers and run like untamed antelopes through unassuming masses of people. In this real-life representation of the Lord of the Flies, children often decimate everything in their paths, leaving behind a scattered trail of toys and books. Barnes and Noble, thank you for your unwavering patience and for graciously hosting even our most mischievous little ones. Love, the Moms of the Upper East Side.