If you’d asked me a decade ago if I’d ever move out to the suburbs, I would have grimaced, given you a “girl, please!” look and ended the conversation right then and there. I was a Big City Girl, living in New York City, reveling in all the urban glory and feeling as if there was no other place on earth I’d rather be.
| This? Not interested… |
When we moved to Denver from Manhattan, I was pretty nervous about getting away from the concrete jungle and being swallowed up by suburban life. We were very precise about where we chose to live, picking an area of town that was still pretty hip and happening, yet not downtown, not out in the ‘burbs with cookie-cutter architecture. It was an adorable part of town (Washington Park, if you’re familiar with Denver ‘hoods), with lots of charm and homes a century old. However, we lived on a busy street, full of foot traffic, loud cars and motorcycles idling at our corner, and 8 foot privacy fences. We never let our kids play outside in the front yard without being out there with them, the kids never rode their bikes further than 10 feet without some kind of obstacle. Sure, the fence provided a boundary for the kids in the backyard, and we could let them run loose back there. But Mr. B couldn’t hit a baseball in the backyard without it jumping a fence and rolling into the alley. After 6+ years, we were finally ready for some space.
Enter: our house here in Ohio. The antithesis of urban living. Not that where we live is entirely rural, but on the other side of the street that serves as the boundary for our subdivision? Farms. FARMS, y’all. We have seen deer in the empty lot across the street. There are hawks flying overhead (to which, when asked by the kids what they’re circling and looking for, I tell them “little children who misbehave and don’t listen to their parents.” Gives them nightmares, sure, but it also makes them deliciously quiet for a minute or two.)
Moving out here to the suburbs was a bit of a pill to swallow. So much so that when Mr. B told one of his teachers last year “We’re moving to the suburbs!”, his teacher exclaimed, “Wow, I can tell that’s a really big deal for your family.” Big deal, indeed. I think my fear was that we would move out here and find there was no diversity, no character. Everyone would be driving minivans and playing tennis and show up on our doorstep all fake smiles, stepfordish and all that. But so far, things haven’t been as vanilla as I’d feared. Our block actually has a diverse ethnic makeup, which is great. I haven’t seen too many houses that look the same. The neighbors have been warm and welcoming, even bringing over mass quantities of baked goods and offering advice for pediatricians and grocery stores. Our next-door neighbors even graciously invited us over to their home last week for dinner while we experienced our very first power outage, and appreciated the warm glow of lights and microwaveability from their generator. In Denver? Yeah, we’d be on our own in that scenario, toughing it out by ourselves as they other neighbors waited things out in their own homes. So, I guess there are some cons to living in the urban jungle after all.
Still, there are things I’m not quite accustomed to about this type of living. I’m still not comfortable leaving our doors unlocked. So much so that we got ourselves locked out of the house last week (but, hey, I now know the number of the nearest locksmith, so, BONUS!). Jon is fine leaving the garage door wide open as we take a walk around the neighborhood, and the city girl in me fights the urge to want to run back and lock things down. I still can’t seem to let the kids leave the confines of our house without me being on their heels. Perhaps someday soon I will be able to let go of all of my fear and pessimism and enjoy the security and openness that the suburbs promises.
What’s been your experience with the suburbs? Feel free to share you tips on surviving suburban life…
