What matters.
So there's always that feeling. If we bring him we'll be excluded or he'll be ignored. If we leave him at home, we'll be more approachable. But then we have the guilt of leaving him behind. We attended the annual neighborhood block party tonight. All of us. It takes a bit of gumption to roll up to the intersection that's been blocked off for the party. We go every year, this year wasn't the best. I know in my head that I shouldn't let any of my self conscious feelings bother me, I shouldn't let the stares keep me from being myself at all times, but tonight we were tired. And so was the party. Joe left early with Dermot, that made me sad. Nothing there for them. How to you shoot the shit with the neighborhood dudes while holding on to the handles of your son's wheelchair? How do you gather close together and listen to the neighborhood gossip with your mom friends while turning off Dermot's feeding pump? Much of this is being imagined by us...