Realities of raising children in urban dwellings

Last week, I wrote about how many of us are still living with our parents with the faintest hope of living on our own in the future. Yet if we do get to move out and start families of our own, a huge percentage will live in highrise urban dwellings.

I have temporarily moved into a second floor home with my one-year-old child, and I have already seen how bleak the future is. Although the houses we are living in is pretty spacious, which is a rare thing, the only play area for kids in most apartment buildings are the parking lots at the bottom of the building or by the street next to the building.

My child, who has spent a huge chunk of his life in a compound home, let us know right away that he did not like this new living arrangement. He spent the first two days literally being ill from the move. He hated that he could only play indoors, that he could not rip the indoor plants apart as he does with the garden plants, that he could not step outside and roam around freely… I could just see it in his eyes that he absolutely hates the idea of it.

I couldn’t help but wonder if this move or moves like this in the future will also alter his personality. At his grandparents’ house, he has a full compound, where he spends his days feeding chickens and chasing crows. I think about how he taught himself to climb gates or how he runs about the compound or the house as if he is on an important mission. How will living in a prison, I mean an apartment, compare?

Do I have to take him outside every few hours to let him run around? But it’s all just a concrete field! Do I let him play with the ball and bicycle in the corridor? What about simpler things; the feel of sun and rain on his skin? Am I driving away the carefree and curious mind by boxing him in a deluxe apartment in the sky?

As his mother, I can see his curiosity and untamed adventurous side slowly dimming away. His play is as limited as his movement. His interest in exploring is met with the alarming “No! No! No!” warding him off dangerous things around the apartment. The only part of the sky that is visible to his little mind is the patch of blue between our building and the next.

I am about to enter my mid-30s. I’m certainly not energetic enough to dress up and take my kid for a walk or to the park whenever he is restless! The older we get and the older he gets, our energy levels are moving towards opposite poles. How will I keep up, then? What happens when we have more children? What about rainy days?

I spent the rainy days of my childhood running around the neighbourhood barefoot! Competing with my siblings about the number of tadpoles we caught or number of mangoes we found. In fact, looking back, my childhood was one long happy rainy day during the mango season! It’s sad enough to know my children will never have an iota of the life I lived in my youth, but it’s worse coming to terms with the fact that the best life we can provide for them now is a childhood of living in an apartment.

As I write this from my second floor apartment, I can hear noises made in the pool by the neighbours’ kids. I do not know them, I have never seen any of them. I do not even peer at the balcony when they are swimming, yet I know which kids these are. The siblings who say “F* you” to each other casually as they splash around. The experience has greatly reduced the chances of my kid playing with kids from the building in the future.