Apartment Living with Kids - Beyond Mommying

It’s been not quite 4 weeks since we officially arrived in New Jersey. We pulled up in front of the apartment building that would be our temporary home and unloaded all the things from our cars onto luggage carts, artfully placing each item in order to make as few trips as possible.

We opened the door to our 3-bedroom apartment and I took a deep breath. It’s a far cry from the house we left in Florida, but at least we don’t have all the things to clutter the small space (about 98% of our worldly possessions are sitting in a storage unit somewhere in Ohio while we wait to get into a permanent home.)

The last time we were apartment livers was when we first moved to Dublin. When we only had one baby, I had no life obligations and everything we needed was around the corner. This time around is definitely different!

I know there are families all over the world that live the apartment life without a choice. And while some certainly love it, I have to give my respect to anyone who does this whole apartment living with kids thing long-term because it’s certainly not easy all the time (though there are obviously some perks.)

So, if you’ve never been given the opportunity to do the apartment living with kids thing, here’s a general synopsis of what it’s like:

There’s a lot of buttons

We happen to be living in a 26-story high-rise building. The building is nestled into a hill and our apartment is on the 3rd level, 2 stories down from the lobby. We sometimes take the stairs up, but going down with so many tiny legs (and all the things we’re lugging) is too much for my patience so we usually stick to the elevator. Which means buttons. One on the outside and one on the inside.

But, here’s the super fun part of our current situation: we also have to take an elevator to get to/from the parking garage. A different elevator. Yep, every time we want to come or go, I have to manage 2 elevator rides for a total of 4 buttons (which sounds perfect for our 4 kids, right? Ha!)

There’s also the key fob we have to swipe to get into the building from the garage, which is a one-kid job and therefore a mommy-only job after the toddler stood in the tiny enclosed elevator vestibule screeching for 10 minutes when I let big brother do it last week.

It’s like a hotel. Except you have to clean.

Since we like to travel, my kids are very familiar with hotels. And still can’t understand that is apartment is home for now and not a hotel. But I get it, it kind of feels like a hotel. We enter into a fancy lobby then do the elevator thing and walk down a dark hallway with lots of doors and no windows. And because we’re in a temporary furnished place, none of the stuff is ours.

So, I get it. It feels a lot like a hotel. Except there isn’t daily maid service. No one to make up the beds or take the towels for laundering or to clean the kitchen. That’s all me.

Just getting out for an errand is a process.

When you have to take 2 elevators and herd 4 kids a quarter of a mile to get from your front door to you car door, you learn quickly not to forget things. Or to do without.

I don’t think we’ve gotten to the car a single time yet where I didn’t sit down and breathe out a huge sigh of “mission accomplished!”

You figure out what’s really important in life.

Those BOGO Oreos? Do you really need them? Is the super-size pack of paper towels really that good of a deal? (What is the point of even having a warehouse club membership anymore?!)

Because everything you buy involves figuring out how to carry it, and all the essential life things, up to your apartment. And while I travel with a lot of people in my entourage, they’re not a lot of helpful which leaves me doing most of the heavy lifting (literally.)

You quickly realize how loud you really are.

I was mortified when our awesome neighbor in Florida said that he could hear me screaming at the kids. I made my self feel better by convincing myself it was only when both of our back doors were open (right?!) But being in an apartment where you know there are other people living and sleeping directly on the other side of the wall or door makes you quickly realize how noisy your people actually are.

And while I’ve made big efforts to curb my screaming, I can’t say my kids have done the same. And they reach some pretty impressive octaves with their crying. So my only goal currently in life is to not end up in an elevator with someone who can say “oh, you’re the new people in 308 that we hear all the time…”

There’s no space to run around.

Apartments are generally lacking in the wide-open spaces department. Which means that when my kids get crazy enough that I would have just sent them to the backyard in Florida, I have to find a different way to handle them in our tiny space (feel free to leave any suggestions below in the comments!)

I am so tired of the cartwheels and hand stands that end with bruises from falling into furniture. And watching my boys run laps through the kitchen/dining/living rooms while narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with the corners of the walls. Or the incessant hide and seek (for which there are very few useful options for hiding.) Why can’t they just sit down and be quiet for a few minutes?!

Getting outdoors is a thing that must be planned and managed.

My kids spent a lot of time outside before we moved. A lot. Like almost all of the time we were home most days. And no longer having that (plus the cooler weather) is putting a damper on all of our spirits.

We’ve been to the park a few times, but that involves either getting everyone to the car (the process) or walking up a not-so-tiny hill which makes everyone “tired” and grumpy. There is a bit of green space directly below our apartment but from what I can tell that’s where all our neighbors take their dogs to shit so I don’t think I’ll be taking my kids down to play anytime ever.

You’re hypersensitive to the upkeep.

Don’t get me wrong, I was pissed when my kids colored on the walls of our house. But when Pipsqueak did it the first day in our apartment, I cried. When your extra-large security deposit rests on the upkeep of your place, you become hypersensitive to every ding in the paint, line on the wall and crashing of trucks into the baseboards.

Things that used to fall under “normal wear and tear” now make me terrified of losing that deposit money. (And on a side note: who the hell puts white fabric dining chairs in an apartment with 4 kids?!)