Bar talk

Last night my mom offered to babysit Mo so we could all go out to dinner. We had a lovely dinner out and then proceeded to a bar that is sort of my local hang when I'm in town. The last time we were there was with Auntie Beth, Sadie and Max for a Giants game. That was three years ago.  On our way in last night, I was immediately greeted by bartenders that I hadn't seen since that visit. We were all excited to see each other and catch up.  "It's been such a long time," they said. "Like three years?" That's about right. I was genuinely happy to see them.  They asked about my Prima Sharon (who's been on crutches and stuck in our house all week), about my husband and my baby.  They remembered meeting my baby the last time I was there. "How old is he now?", they asked. "Fifteen months", I responded.  I could see they looked confused but I just changed the subject. While part of me wants to scream, "yes, my son Max was here! He was such a good boy", the other part of me doesn't want to share him in this context.  It's just easier not to share.  My relationships here - while really warm - don't go super deep and I just don't want to share Max anymore with people who won't appreciate it and him and our story. It feels like a disservice to him. And, I know I keep revisiting this subject - to tell or not to tell - but I've come to see it as one of the struggles that I've finally made some peace with. For a REALLY long time - I told everyone who asked. It was my way of ensuring that his existence was never denied. Now, I only share him with those people that I choose to go deep with. And those people are fewer and more far between.

This is a photo of my crew from our night on the town: