ok, so we live in an apartment complex… technically it’s “base-housing” but aesthetically speaking, it’s a very lovely apartment complex.  4 story brick buildings, lawn crews who plant fresh flowers bi-monthly (i kid you not), a playground for the kiddle-dids literally right outside our door… it’s pretty… to look at.

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ok, so we live in an apartment complex… technically it’s “base-housing” but it’s an apartment complex filled with families, who have a kid if not multiple kids, and animals (and yes, i am including myself in this “family” summation).

i HATE it.  actually the word HATE does not even touch on how much i disdain living as a family in an apartment.  paul and i lived in an apartment when we were first married…  wait, no, that’s not right, first we lived in a house with 4 of his roommates and slept on an air mattress after we were first married…  THEN, we lived in an apartment.

i digress…

apartment living as a single person or as a couple (in my experience) can be great, fantastic even.  no worries about mowing the lawn, fixing the leaky faucet, reattaching the gutter that fell off the side of your house during a storm.  just get the rent check in on time.  that’s all.  occasionally you have to put up with a crappy neighbor, or a weird one who feeds all the local cats in the small town that you live in…  but for the most part, i found it to be pretty cool.

apartment living as a family SUCKS.  honestly, i have never in my life encountered so many inconsiderate people.  and my hope was that one would think, “hmm, i have a kid… a kid who makes NOISE.  perhaps i should regulate my kid when in the communal areas of the apartment so not to disturb the multitude of families who ALSO have kids living in the same building.”

but no.  no.  no.  not in this apartment complex dear friends…  we have the “door SLAMMERS.”  we have the “basketball in the stairwell is a good idea while babies nap-ers.”  we have the “jump rope in the hallway after 7 pm when babies go to sleep-ers.”  we have the “let’s construct a cardboard space shuttle in the main hallway with our 3 kids and discuss painting it AS LOUD AS POSSIBLE-ers.”

and i know i am not guiltless in this noise-contribution by any means… i mean have you met the magoo?!?

so when i shlep up three flights of stairs weekly (sometimes bi-weekly) with a 22 lb magoo, diaper bag, and 5 eco-friendly sacks (yes, i just said “sack”) of groceries, we are not quiet.  not by a long shot.  plus, the magoo is going through a squealing/squawking phase right now.  i know he’s heard throughout the building during those times of day.

however, we do not lack common courtesy in the way that i feel others who live in this apartment complex do.  the cleaning crew of the complex in which we live has not (i repeat not, as in neglected to) cleaned up cat vomit that has been in the stairwell of my friend’s building FOR TWO WEEKS.  granted, this should have been accomplished by the owner of said cat (again going back to my point about common courtesy), but dammit cleaning crew!  don’t just vacuum and dust and windex your way around that shit.

this week i was a complainer to the housing department.  i was “that mom” who complained about the cleaning crew going through the stairwell of the apartment building with their SUPERSUCKVAC and yelling to each other in conversation during the magoo’s naptime.  granted, i had addressed this exact situation with the cleaning crew directly on previous occasions, but this. was. it…  i was hot.

so i, once again, approach the crew.  i tell them there are 3 little ones who take both morning and afternoon naps in this building, please come back during lunch time, when the kids are awake and not being disrupted by your SUPERSUCKVAC or loud conversation about your wife’s meatloaf.  one crewman in particular holds his hand up as though to silence me (note: DON’T EVER EVER EVER hold your hand up as though to silence a woman.  she will cut you and leave you bleeding for wild dogs to eat your remains. ok, maybe that’s just me, but still. don’t do it.)

i am yelled at by mr. hand-holder-upper “lady, i’m doin my job. call the housing dept.”

“sure thing sir. can i have all of your names please?”

they give me their names.

i then proceed to get on the phone with the housing department, but sit in the stairwell during the call so that the housing department can hear just exactly HOW LOUD it is in my building with these nut jobs working… i also brought the baby monitor with me so that the housing department representative on the phone could hear the non-napping, screaming magoo as well.  cuz i’m sweet like that.

the nut jobs get walkie-talkied by the housing department rep and told to leave my building.  i rock the magoo back to sleep.  done.

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!!! (or so i thought…)

in moving to the next building, i hear (from my third floor window) one of the nut jobs yell “DON’T FORGET THE EXTENSION CORD!!!”  and then i hear the magoo wailing…  and then i hear the following…

“man… that building 5 bitch.”

so yes, i get back on the phone, ask for the same housing department representative and give her a blow by blow of what just took place.  i am told “oh i am so sorry ma’am” (don’t call me ma’am.  i’m only 28!) and “we will address this in a meeting immediately when the crew returns.”

fantastic.

i have not seen the cleaning crew around here since the beginning of the week.  and i hope for their sake that my husband does not see them, lest they desire to be mauled by this man…

that's right bitches.

that incident aside… apartment housing for families sucks for a few more reasons…  there’s no private outside play room for your little ones.  you don’t have a backyard where you can watch your child play out the window while you uncork a bottle of wine.  there’s no inside communal area for your toddler to… well, toddle, because its all taken up by your neighbors strollers, kid’s bikes, helmets, (and during the winter) snow saucers.

i’m learning of this thing called a “lack of privacy,” as well.  exterminators desire to enter your apartment at their convenience to spray for insects.  ok, i hate bugs as much as the next person and i stand on furniture when i see one and squeal til paul kills (and flushes it because we all know if you just put it in the trash can, that little shit will come back to life and crawl its way out.)  sorry exterminators, you will not enter my apartment at the time of your choosing, lest you desire to be mauled by this animal…

yes, exterminator man, i will go straight for your junk.

dear readers, please heed my warnings…  DO NOT live in an apartment once you begin to spawn children.  because if you do, your bottle may be permanently up.