The last few days before the move happened so fast. We tried our best to enjoy Max's first birthday, the city and our first home together, empty as it may be. Before we left Chicago, we had we said our goodbyes to all our dear friends who we have collected over the last five and a half years. It's a bit like curating jewels––pick only the best and keep them close to you; there's even a diamond in the rough sometimes.
We threw a "Farewell, FurFur" bash at the dog park in the neighborhood. She ran like a beast one last time with her favorite dog ever, Titus, who she grew up with. They chewed on each others' hind legs like it was the first time.
We took Max for one last, leisurely spin through the ol' neighborhood on his new push buggy that I bought off another mom for a steal. He thinks he's going to drive himself all the way to D.C.
Max and I made a visit to the local police station to get his infant car seat checked before our long road trip, where the Man in Blue told Max, "Don't be bad for momma when you grow up, okay?" That went over real well.
Then we headed to the West Loop, the neighborhood where I had my first job in Chicago at that interactive firm, and played with one of Max's pals one last time.
Later that last night, we drove through downtown Chicago and had apps at Devon Seafood Grill, one of our favorite happy hour spots (before the baby, you know). Max wore his best "I Love Chicago" bodysuit, a thoughtful first birthday gift from one of my wonderful Chicago mommas. We wanted to swing by Prentice Women's Hospital just down the street––where I delivered Max––and where my girlfriend had just that afternoon given birth to her second baby. But she was just a wee bit busy and all, you see. Then we went back to our empty condo where our good friends in the building cooked us our Last Supper, a deliciously spicy Indian meal, and we hung out on their couch talking about Zombie Apocalypse scenarios in all seriousness. It was pretty much the perfect end to an era.
We threw a "Farewell, FurFur" bash at the dog park in the neighborhood. She ran like a beast one last time with her favorite dog ever, Titus, who she grew up with. They chewed on each others' hind legs like it was the first time.
We took Max for one last, leisurely spin through the ol' neighborhood on his new push buggy that I bought off another mom for a steal. He thinks he's going to drive himself all the way to D.C.
Max and I made a visit to the local police station to get his infant car seat checked before our long road trip, where the Man in Blue told Max, "Don't be bad for momma when you grow up, okay?" That went over real well.
Then we headed to the West Loop, the neighborhood where I had my first job in Chicago at that interactive firm, and played with one of Max's pals one last time.
Later that last night, we drove through downtown Chicago and had apps at Devon Seafood Grill, one of our favorite happy hour spots (before the baby, you know). Max wore his best "I Love Chicago" bodysuit, a thoughtful first birthday gift from one of my wonderful Chicago mommas. We wanted to swing by Prentice Women's Hospital just down the street––where I delivered Max––and where my girlfriend had just that afternoon given birth to her second baby. But she was just a wee bit busy and all, you see. Then we went back to our empty condo where our good friends in the building cooked us our Last Supper, a deliciously spicy Indian meal, and we hung out on their couch talking about Zombie Apocalypse scenarios in all seriousness. It was pretty much the perfect end to an era.
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