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Greetings from Avenue Z

Those of you who are familiar with New York City know all about the East Village and the Lower East Side. As the avenues go further east, they lose their numberical designations and become alphabet letters: Avenue A, B, etc. It’s called Alphabet City and it used to be a pretty rough area. Now it’s just kind of funky with a lot of “character.” I used to live near here so I consider this neighborhood my home. However, I guess I didn’t really consider how suitable my “home” was for my new life. With Child(ren).

I’m staying on Avenue B. I booked this through a friend who knows the owner. It’s billed as an “apartment hotel” and I thought, “Golly gee! That sounds fabulous. All the comforts of home (laundry, fridge and microwave), coupled with the comforts of a hotel (little soaps in the bathroom). And the price. Whoa. How else could I find such a bargain in the city? You know where this is going, don’t you? Heard of something sounding too good to be true?
I survived the plane ride as the lone adult supervising two little people (more on this later) and was met on the other side by a very nice driver with a sedan fitted with 2 infant seats. We crossed the bridge into Manhattan and I kept pointing out all the sights to the girls, my excitement growing. Pulling into my old ‘hood, I immediately started planning my smoked salmon pig out at Russ & Daughters, my shopping spree at Old Navy (don’t laugh. We don’t have it in London.), my long walks along the East River watching elderly Chinese people exercise. And then we arrived at our destination.
Looked nice enough. Clean front door. But where’s the doorman waiting to greet me? Oh that’s okay, I don’t require a doorman building. I’m a mom with jam handprints on her shirt. I’m not fancy. To my happy surprise, the owner appeared like magic, ready to escort me to my lodgings for the week. As I walked into the lobby I automatically turned to find the elevator. And saw garbage cans. And a very steep, narrow, long staircase. I’m in a walk up. Third floor. Two infants. One slick double stroller. Total weight about 75 pounds. Awesome.
I’ll tell you how it’s all worked out once I find my Advil. And my back brace. And strap my ankles. The learning never stops, does it?

Dr. Lara Zibners, Oct 24, 2010

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