How do you raise children here?!

Id like to say "I get this question a lot" in a good way, but I'd be lying.

I'm asked by people who come to visit me in the city with children in tow, "how do you raise children here?!"

Those asking usually have dark circles under their eyes with frazzled wind blown hair and bags of American Doll and Disney Store items. 

I know this look well. It's a cross between frazzled, worried and confused. I call it "Frarriedused."

The answer is, "the hell if I know."

Raising kids anywhere is tough. Raising kids in NYC is like a contained circus that brings in wild jungle animals to stir things up.  

I have cried. 

Because I have been that tired. 

Garbage trucks at 4:30am wake your children. Even if you live on a high floor. Even if you have a sound machine. 

My son gave up his nap at 18 months because my building was rebricking outside our apartment unit.  The building did not provide notice so I did not make alternate arrangements. Out of nowhere we heard sudden loud drilling and a bunch of men outside my living room window. Followed by a baby crying. A baby who would never nap again. 

An added element to living in NYC is being in front of people all of the time.  It makes child rearing in NYC a touch more stressful. My son doesn't pitch a tantrum in the back of a car. He does it on a street corner.  

Taking your four year old child to pre-school on the NYC bus becomes entertaining when your child begins to pole dance while singing Old McDonald Had a Farm. 

People don't find it amusing or cute at 7:30 in the morning. 

I often feel like I'm juggling cats. 

Getting strollers through doors, down and up steps and in and out of subways becomes an Olympic sport.  Putting babies in cabs, while cars around you beep and beep and people wave with the middle finger make you not want to leave your block. 

Like anything else, you figure it out. 

So how do I raise my child here? I just do. I pray a lot for safety. I pray for sanity. 

I just keep going.