It feels very adult to put down a pet. I’ll get back to that in a minute.

But first, your husband wraps the cat in an old beach towel and hands him to you. You tell the kids to say goodbye. (Of course you’ve read all about how to explain death to your 3-year-old. Keep it simple and be honest. He’s not coming back.)

And then there’s your own grief. I wonder what the books say? How are you supposed to feel about a cat? Is this what it feels like when a person dies? I just burst into tears in front of complete strangers. I’ve never felt these emotions before. He lived in my house for 12 years. He was my first baby. I fed him and bathed him in the tub. I injected him with insulin twice a day. I scolded him for peeing on the kids’ toys. I rubbed him, oh did I rub him. He loved to be rubbed and cuddled. Then I, alone, put him in the passenger seat next to me and drove him the three miles to the vet. There weren’t a lot of words; just, “It’s time.” And in a few minutes he was asleep. I kissed the top of his head and touched the white patch under his neck, and walked out of the room.

My cat’s name is Id. He was born in September 1996 and lived with his first owner, a neighbor of mine, for four years. When the neighbor, a dentist, moved to Japan to serve in the Navy I happily adopted Id, a Russian Blue, and his “brother” Ego, a Maine Coon in 2000.

“What are your cats’ names?” was always a very awkward question. “I didn’t name them! I adopted them.” But many people love their names – Ego and Id. According to Wikipedia, Ego “is the organized, realistic part” of the psyche as defined by Freud. “The id acts according to the “pleasure principle”, seeking to avoid pain or unpleasure (not ‘displeasure’) aroused by increases in instinctual tension.” I think that definition is fitting; Id kept things simple. If he liked you, he rubbed against you for hours. If he disliked you, he stopped in his tracks to hiss or urinate on the floor. Unfortunately, this earned him a reputation as a “scaredy cat” or a “wuss” or a cat that is not a people person. Quite the contrary, I say, but perhaps he was just a Mama’s boy. Incidentally, Id’s medical records say his real name was Mouser. Indeed he caught several mice in his day. He proved that he could hang with the big boys.

In fact, he was a BIG boy. In his final days he had dropped quite a bit of weight. It’s hard for me to remember how plump he was in his prime. “That’s the fattest cat I’ve ever seen!” friends would exclaim. I like to say that he was healthy and happy and extra cuddly. The nickname “Butterball Boy” caught on quickly.

Ego, Id and I moved around a lot. Ohio, Illinois, Washington, D.C. And several apartments in each state. The boys would often spend “summer camp” at my parent’s home in suburban Cleveland. They loved the large yard and neighboring woods. I am forever grateful to my parents for watching them anytime I was in transition or living with a roommate who was allergic to cats.

Ego, Id and I together experienced the start of my career, the marriage to my husband, the birth of my two babies and the purchase of our home in Chicago – the place we finally “settled” into to raise our family. As we were starting this new life, Id, closing in on 16 years of age, began declining in health. We put much energy and money into treating his ailments but it never seemed to be enough. He passed away on Thursday, December 27, 2012 with me by his side.

Driving home alone was sad. Coming home to two cat bowls was even worse. As I write this, Ego is fast asleep behind me on the bed. So should Id be. Id, I will miss your rubs and squeaky cries. I will miss your beautiful coat with its grey translucence. I could see silver on the tips of each strand of hair. I loved the small white patch on your neck; my husband called it your bowtie and said you were always dressed for the prom. I’m sorry that the kids took over the house. I hope they were never too mean to you. I hope I gave you enough love and attention. It doesn’t seem enough right now. I hope you enjoyed resting each day in the sunlight on my bed.

Growing up we had many – MANY – cats and dogs. Indoor cats, outdoor cats, adopted cats, shelter cats and at least two dogs that I remember. They are all gone now and it occurred to me just this morning that it was the duty of my father to wrap each animal in a blanket, drive to the veterinarian’s office and help them pass on. My mother and siblings and I would say goodbye and leave the hard part to my dad – the man of the house, the ultimate adult who took care of us and sheltered us from the sad reality of death. He would come home and move on with his day. We never spoke about what happened at the vet’s office. Today, it was I. Alone. All 34 years of me doing what I had to do – taking away the pain of my cherished pet, the boy who brought me such joy and companionship during our 12 years together. Goodnight Iddy, sleep well my sweet boy.

A conversation yesterday, while buckling Elise into her car seat. We had just left the Apple store. It was a frustrating hour-long errand. Tristan was still strapped into the stroller on the sidewalk.

Me: Should I get Nay Nay or leave him on the sidewalk?

Elise: Leave him on the sidewalk.

Me: But who will take care of him if we leave him?

Elise: Mama will take care of him.

Me: But how will Mama take care of him if I leave him there?

Elise: Silence. Presumably thinking.

Me: Should Nay Nay go home with us?

Elise: No.

Me: So Nay Nay should stay there and someone else will take care of him?

Elise: No, Mama will take care of him.

Me: Ok, nevermind.

Elise: Mama, go get Nay Nay.

And then it occurred to me that most of my conversations with grown adults sound about the same.

The next time someone tells me to enjoy my children because they grow up so fast I will punch them in the face. Or, how about this one? When I think about how tough other people have it, I feel better about my life. Yeah, that’s classic.

It’s Tuesday at 8:04 p.m. and I’ve just completed another 12 hours of solo parenting. After I fed and bathed the kids and put them to bed I cleaned the litter box, watered the garden, washed the dishes and folded three loads of laundry. (And before you roll your eyes, let me just tell you that I’m rolling my own eyes. At me. I’m even annoyed with me that I’m feeling this sorry for myself.)

Last week was five days (and evenings) in a row of solo parenting. This week we’ll probably have another five. Weekends are better – I almost always have help – but then the week starts all over again way too soon.

Today was especially bad. I don’t even remember why but all of a sudden I had to step away from Elise. I gave myself a time out. I was even annoyed with the baby today. HE’S A BABY. HE’S THE CUTEST BABY EVER AND CAN DO NO WRONG.

I’m angry, folks. ANGRY. And I’m no psychologist but when you tell me to enjoy every moment or think of the single mothers or working mothers or people who have it far worse than I do it is discouraging me from OWNING MY FEELINGS. And owning my feelings – stating them, processing them – is healthy. It’s better for everyone. It helps me to realize things like, I’m not taking care of myself right now. I don’t have enough breaks. I’m not eating well or exercising enough. Do I have work/life balance? What is work/life balance? When’s the last time I shared my feelings with my spouse? Did he and I ever talk about what a SAHM would entail? Did he know that accepting this job would make him a part-time parent?

And when I can feel those things, process those things, answer those questions (or some of those questions), I’m a better person. I’m a better mom. I’m a better wife. The anger, it disappears.

Oh, and those moments I’m supposed to enjoy with my kids? Let me tell you that when Elise steps out of the bathtub every night and into my arms, her hair is the best smelling hair I have ever smelled in my entire life. She is warm and sweet and for two minutes she lets me hold her like a baby. And Tristan? EVERYTHING he does is adorable. Everything. I spoil that child rotten because he is the sweetest little angel with the cutest four teeth. Every time he looks at me and smiles my heart explodes.

So, yeah, let me take something back – go ahead and tell me to enjoy those moments. Because I do. I promise I do. But also tell me it’s ok to sometimes feel sad and angry and exhausted and frustrated with my life, with my job, because it’s normal and healthy. And I’m a better mom because of it.

The end.

Remember that post I wrote over a year ago called I believe in Chicago Public Schools? If you’re a regular reader you know that we bought a home in the city. We’re here to stay. In fact, I joined our neighborhood school’s Local School Council and I’m really excited about what our new administration is up to.

My kids are still a couple years away from school but we have fun watching the neighborhood kids already gearing up for their first day. They’re checking off items on their school supply list and washing their uniforms. (Yes, our public school has uniforms! I love it.) I have such great memories of picking out notebooks and pens and Trapper Keepers. Yep, I was born in the 70s.

But what about those who can’t afford to spend hundred of dollars at Target? Chicago Public Schools has teamed up with Groupon to provide school supplies to kids in need. I donated $18 — that will pay for a year of school supplies plus a backpack. A donation of $11 will pay for just the school supplies.

Would you guys consider donating too? And post this link to your blog, FB pages or Twitter? THIS DEAL EXPIRES TUESDAY AT MIDNIGHT!!

Thanks, friends. Have a great week.

Nolan is my husband and the father of our two children. He is an attorney and loves reading the newspaper, drinking coffee and watching baseball. He loves being a Dad. He’s a fantastic one, too. I asked him to write something for our son’s 1st birthday today.

Our baby boy, Tristan, (alias: Nay Nay) turns one today. We call him our “sweet guy” with reason: he really is the nicest little man you could imagine. He flashes his winning, four-tooth, bright-eyed smile with aplomb. He bobbles and bounces when there’s music on the radio. If you hold him and ask him to “lie down,” he’ll bury his little head into your chest. Lyrics from his little falsetto chirp and flutter through the house. He frolics with his big sister, Elise, and endures with grace her (loving) abuse. If I get home from work before his bedtime, he’ll spot me from across the house, throw that radiant smile, slap his way down the hall, and stop at my feet to look up expectantly. I think he likes me. The feeling is mutual.

Not that he’s been an “easy” child, if such a person exists. For the first several months, Tristan was uncomfortable after meals and had trouble keeping much down. I wondered whether he’d grow. And then there was the sleeping. For a while, he would only sleep in his mother’s arms, and then only in increments of a few hours at most. I felt helpless, hopeless almost daily. Whether by instinct or sheer force of will, Katie persevered.

Although Tristan still doesn’t particularly care for naps, he now sleeps soundly, reliably through the night. But he’s still an early bird. We took a vacation recently to Stone Lake, Wisconsin (which is a wonderful place, incidentally) and the latest he awoke during our week away was 6:00 a.m. One morning he was up at 4:45 and after he nursed I got up with him. We walked out on the pier, watched fish jump out of the water, listened to the lake and greeted the sun together.

I thought of a poem I’ve been reading to the children lately, In Time of Silver Rain, by Langston Hughes:

In time of silver rain
The earth
Puts forth new life again,
Green grasses grow
And flowers lift their heads,
And over all the plain
The wonder spreads
Of life,
of life,
of life!

In time of silver rain
The butterflies
Lift silken wings
To catch a rainbow cry,
And trees put forth
New leaves to sing
In joy beneath the sky
As down the roadway
Passing boys and girls
Go singing, too,
In time of silver rain
When spring
And life
Are new.

Happy first birthday with love, sweet guy.

A playdate at the Art Institute of Chicago sounds swanky, doesn’t it? That’s why I love this city. Even the renowned museum in Chicago’s Grant Park has something for kids.

GETTING THERE

Yesterday we met our friend and her boys. She took public transportation, I drove. The museum has a good “directions and parking”  section on its site here but I’d like to elaborate on my favorite place to park. The East Monroe Street and Millennium Park garage is “wheel” accessible — your stroller will fit in the elevator and you’ll exit right across the street from the Modern Wing Entrance on Monroe. The entrance to the garage is on Columbus Drive between Randolph and Monroe streets. When you enter the garage, turn LEFT or SOUTH and try to find a parking spot as south as possible. The rows are labeled with letters; anything at the end of the alphabet (R, S, T, etc) will get you close to the elevator. Take it up to the street level and there you are — just steps away from the entrance. It’s not cheap, by the way. Two hours cost me $23 and with my membership I got $5 off. You’ll see below, though, why this was worth it to me.

THE BEST KEPT SECRET

The museum’s Ryan Education Center is a place where families (and other groups, like school groups) can visit for FREE. Do not stand in the long line waiting to buy tickets. Just bypass it and you’ll see the entrance on your left in the Modern Wing. It has a Family Room where kids can play with blocks, magnets, animal toys, or read books, and across the hall is the Picture Book Gallery where you can view original works of art then look at picture books at the table in the middle of the room. You can learn more about family activities on this section of the museum’s website. Scroll down and click the tabs.

Of course you won’t be seeing the Art Institute’s famous Impressionist art or Asian art collection. I recommend saving that for the big kids or adults — you can easily spend a half a day viewing the various collections. If your kids don’t mind spending a few hours in the stroller, by all means pay admission! I think this is why we are members — we visit the museum a dozen times a year and only stay for an hour or so but it’s worth the short visit because we visit frequently.  Learn more about membership here.

EATING LUNCH (or breakfast)

Another reason I don’t mind paying the 20 bucks or so for parking is because we bring our own food. On a nice day, cross back over Monroe toward the elevator/garage and sit on a blanket with your lunch in Millennium Park. You may even catch some music. We’ve been going to Millennium Park for years and have so many great memories of relaxing on a blanket with the kids. Here’s my sweet girl when she was only 6 months old.

Or, go across the street from the main entrance (on Michigan Avenue) and buy inexpensive food at Cosi or Au Bon Pain. Because the museum doesn’t open until 10:30 am we often eat breakfast first close to the museum, then arrive right when it opens.

If you’ve paid admission, check out the museum’s cafe. The food is fantastic and the seating area is comfortable with plenty of high chairs and booster seats.

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There you have it! If you have any other tips for visiting museums with kids, please leave them in the comments. As always, I am not being compensated in any way to write this post.

It’s going to be 104 degrees in Chicago today. Anxiety starts to set in when I think about what I’m going to do ALL DAY with two very young kids. Elise is 2 1/2 and Tristan is 11 months. I refuse to leave the house with them. I’ve bolded below our hot summer “in house” activities.

Our morning routine is the same — milk for all, breakfast, playing with toys in the living room.

Tristan goes down for his morning nap. I hand Elise a disabled iPhone to look through photos. I hate doing this but I know it will keep her attention for 20 minutes while I water the plants, vacuum the basement, fold two loads of laundry and do the breakfast dishes. I think the key to TV, movies or “iProducts” is a time limit. I give Elise a 5 minute and 1 minute warning before we move on to the next activity. I also vow to not give her the phone the rest of the day, and I put that phone and mine on top of the refrigerator.

Up next is finger painting. We use this Crayola product and we love it — it truly is mess free. It keeps her attention for 15 minutes.

When she’s done I ask her to wash her hands. I swear, the key to killing time is asking a toddler to perform a task on her own. I also ask her to pick out her and her brother’s outfits from the laundry I just folded. This kills another 15 minutes. She unfolds everything in the basket and we talk about each piece of clothing but it’s worth it and it’s FREE.

Tristan is awake and we invite friends over. Fresh blood in the house — this works! After snacks we head down to the basement where our playroom is. We play with our guests for about an hour.

Lunchtime.

Naptime for both kids. I rotate toys. This works, friends. Every two to three months I put away every single toy in the playroom (only 10-12 toys) and take out 10-12 new toys from the closet. A few tips: LESS IS MORE. Kids don’t need 100 toys. They tend to get overwhelmed. NEW IS GOOD. They forget about the toys that I’ve hidden in the closet so they feel “new” to them. If you don’t have a playroom or if you’re bored with your current playroom, change it up by moving a few toys into a bedroom or the kitchen. Just the change in environment will stimulate their senses.

Tristan wakes up first (of course) and he’s entertained with music and books. He also doesn’t mind playing by himself with tupperware from the kitchen whereas Elise almost always requires your attention/interaction while playing.

So now Elise is up and this is the DREADED 4-6 pm hour. She discovers “new” toys in the playroom and that keeps her occupied for 45 minutes. When she starts to get restless I strip them both down to their diapers and we eat popsicles on the shaded back porch. They are both a mess so we take an early bath. We call this “play bath” — no washing. They can splash as much as they want and I blow bubbles for them in the bathroom. I take the toys from the kiddie pool in the backyard and put them in their bath.

Before I know it, it’s time for dinner, another (but very quick) bath and bed. I’ve survived another day.

So, how do you occupy your kids when you’re stuck inside all day? Would you mind leaving some suggestions in the comments?

Here are suggestions from a few Twitter friends:

Jen said to build a fort with a card table and a sheet. (love it!)

Lisa had awesome ideas — homemade playdough or bake a cake outside your window in the heat!

Kristi had a classic one — jello shapes!

Janel said to play with shaving cream in pots and pans….another awesome idea.

Helicopter Mom. I want to talk about the term.

Our friend Lisa said she finds it offensive. I don’t disagree with her and I hope she’ll write more about that this week.

I want to tell you how the word made me feel the first time I heard it. It reminded me of the worst of me.

The truth is, when I “hover” over my children — in the living room, in the playroom, on the playground — it comes from a place of anxiety. I feel out of control. I am scared of them. They have control over me.

Nolan calls me a professional mom. He says my “continuing education” is my stack of parenting and child rearing books. Of course, I feel guilty that I haven’t finished many of the books. I haven’t done all the research. I’m too busy practicing as a mom. Maybe I should have studied more before I became a mom.

Another truth: In my heart I know that the only parenting book I need is the one I’m writing in my head, as I go along.

I’m a better parent when I’m not sleep deprived.

When I’m consistent, my children behave beautifully.

When I’m confident, they sense it.

I’m a happier mom when I feel connected with my husband.

I need at least four hours away from my children every week. Maybe more than that.

When I’m relaxed, my children are relaxed.

So forget all the parenting books, the parenting philosophies, the terms. I’m going with my gut. I’m sure there’s a book on that, too.

I am pleased to share with my readers Chicago’s first infertility support group: Shine. But more importantly I want to tell you about the amazing woman who runs the organization. Katie O’Connor and I sat down at my dining room table recently with a (strong) cup of coffee, and with a smile on her face she shared with me her journey with infertility. Her organization is aptly named; Katie is warm, positive and on a mission to find women who struggled like she did. If you struggle with infertility or know someone who does, you must meet Katie.

And here’s your chance…

The organization is holding its Launch Open House on Tuesday, June 26th at 7:15pm at the Dailey Method – Bucktown (1714 N. Damen, 2nd Floor, Chicago, IL 60647). It’s FREE!

The kickoff event will include refreshments and light appetizers and a Q&A with a panel of real women who have gone through infertility treatments.  There will also be a brief presentation to provide information about the membership benefits of Shine. Shine will combine peer discussion with professional guest speaker seminars.

Learn more about Shine’s Open House here and email Katie with questions here: katie@shinechicago.com.

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Here’s more on Katie’s story.

You are the proud mother of 16-month-old Gwen. But getting pregnant wasn’t easy. How did it finally happen?

My story started way back in late 2008…my road to getting preggers was a bumpy one…I went through high points and low points…

It started with my husband (Bill) and I deciding we wanted to start our family, getting off the pill, and ringing in 2009 with a normal annual exam at my obgyn, learning I have a non-existent period, going through preliminary testing, trying several rounds of hormonal meds to help “jump start” my period, nothing working…getting referred to an infertility specialist, going through WAY more testing, getting diagnosed with PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome), to even more rounds of hormonal meds, more than I can count blood works and ultrasounds, and again nothing working…finally getting my period started, turning the corner to 2010, to several failed IUI (the glamorous acronym for Intrauterine Insemination, previously know as Artificial Insemination) attempts, to our first IVF (In-Vitro Fertilization) attempt, including more meds (you name it I was probably on it), shots (in my stomach and my behind), tons of monitoring appointments (blood work and ultrasound), periods of stress, sadness, pain, and general “why me”, to finally in June 2010 the feeling of overwhelming joy, hearing the words “you are pregnant” and finally the miracle of giving birth to my daughter (Gwen) in February 2011.

Wow, that’s an intense story! Throughout your journey you met other women suffering from infertility. What did you learn from them?

Yes, I was an open book during my infertility journey. I work as a fitness instructor and am surrounded by other women for my job. As I was going through my treatments I was very open about what I was going through and because of that many women opened up to me about their struggle. It opened my eyes to how many women keep their struggle silent. And that was my sign that I needed to start a community for women in the Chicago area.

Tell us about Shine. What do you hope to accomplish with the organization?

Shine is a ray of light on infertility. My mission is through experience, passion, and education to provide a place of comfort, community, and support for women living with infertility. Shine was born from my personal journey through infertility and grew out of my dream to create a place for women and their families to come together to share, experience, learn, and celebrate our unique challenges in creating the families we so desperately desire.

What is in included in a membership?

Membership gives you access to our community sessions (both open discussion and guest speakers) as well as specially negotiated discounts at select local businesses (including the Dailey Method and Urban Oasis). Meetings are held in 8-weekly sessions on Tuesdays at 7:15pm.

If you could share one thing with a woman trying to conceive, what would it be?

Celebrate the small victories. The small ones lead to the big ones and keep you positive!!!

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Don’t forget to stop by Shine’s Open House on June 26! More details here.

Everything that is right in this world lives inside a child.

Everything that is wrong — anxiety, greed, shame — lives inside of me. If I let it.

I am away from my phone today. I am still. But I snapped these photos at lunch. Real quick. The phone went back into the kitchen. I needed to capture what I saw.

She looking at me. He looking at me. I sit at the head of the table.

And the only thing I know, all day today, is that everything that is right in this world lives inside of them.