west by northwest (by midwest)

city of children no. 3

Parents in Portland always seemed to be apologizing. I would round a corner in the grocery store, only to collide kneecap-to-forehead with a toddler who had waddled off to snatch a secret treat, and a humiliated mom or dad would scoop up the child while mouthing, “I am so sorry.” Never mind that I was equally to blame for not noticing the little one underfoot, or that the parent shared no blame at all. For these reasons and more, something about the ritual suggested more than mere apology.  It felt closer to shame.

This is a side effect of an urban design culture that tends to exclude children and families - everything from two-seat restaurant tables to signs in yoga-studio cafes that warn “no dogs or children past this point.”  A friend of mine visiting with her husband and two kids (probably the sweetest kids in human history, by the way) noticed this exact sign and elbowed me gently while we looked over a menu of raw vegan entrees.  Just as I felt her nudging me, a cluster of sweaty yoga students exited the adjoining studio, and we watched them file past, all of them silent, their postures stern. Several glared at my friend’s kids, who sat scanning the menu, leaning in so their temples touched. They looked like living, breathing putti. Who could be offended by them?

“Nice,” my friend said.  “The bathroom is on the other side of that sign.  What if my kids have to pee?”

Salt Lake City is the precise opposite.  Restaurants post advertisements for family discounts or free kid meals.  Stores offer kiddie shopping carts and “product sampling” days with invitations to “bring the kids.” I have yet to see a sign forbidding children anywhere - well, except the obvious sorts of places.

In fact, my husband and I are the ones on the outside now, with no children and no plans to have them.  A few of his co-workers have hinted that we should start a family, and complete strangers suggest that our VW Beetle (his, really, since I do not drive) is just a “pre kid” kind of car.  “You’ll need a new one,” they say.  “When you have kids.”

Not “if” you have kids, but “when.”