completely casual

damn...I said I'd post more this new year.

double-damn: I said I'd try and drop some of the melancholy.

ah-ha! I never said anything about not being cynical! *whew* and what a relief that is, because if I'm going to try and get back to occasionally-somewhat-amusing, as opposed to just-plain-blah, then the cynicism is going to hit the roof. A boy's gotta vent somewhere folks, and this is all I've got (which is a pretty sad state of affairs, especially when you consider the fact that I think of this as a little, empty arena in my head [issues I tell ya, issues...] )

Just me, up at a podium looking out over a sea of red, plush chairs with maybe four or five "me"s sitting there, bored to death, wondering when I'm going to get around to the stories about being beaten up by deeply disturbed women in the buff.

Well, flying in the face of my "resolution to be more cynical", I have to post about something nice.

We all know the co-workers and acquaintances that, no matter what the situation, always find the wrong thing to say. Among the DB parents, that trend seems to be amplified. Not that we say the wrong thing, necessarily, but we do tend to be on the receiving end of thoughtless, or downright uncaring, comments.

Thankfully not the case for myself, at least when it has come to friends and co-workers. The other day, however, something very small, yet meaningful happened. A co-worker was telling me how she'd enjoyed my FB status, chuckled aloud and then had that awkward moment we've all experienced: explaining something thats "Internet-funny" to someone that is, you know, actually in your physical presence and not a party of your humorours little digital exchange.

To give context, when we found out that Piccadilly is indeed another boy, I posted my 'baby making materials' for sale, guaranteed to make a boy! (Get it while its hot!) ha ha, ho ho, hee hee haw haw As she explained to me how she had explained the situation to her mother, not the situation, but the context of my post and the sarcasm involved, she said something very simple that, honestly, made my heart swell.

She said, "...this is their third child, and it is their third boy."

That was it. Conversation moved on, joking continued and we all went about avoiding work. Things were as they should be; I had three sons.

Joel was acknowledged, not as a sad memory, not in response to my woe-is-me blogging, or a ho-hum FB status; it didn't come from a friend that has been close to my pain, or even a fellow DB'er. He was acknowledged simply as my son in the most casual of exchanges.

It was a glimpse of normal, of being out of the shadow, a glimpse of a world where I don't have to remind people that he was real.

I know I'll never get there from here, but I'll always be thankful for the peek.

Thanks Ashley.