I'm SO not ready for REAL silverware

Liam turned 6 this weekend. On Saturday. And I did okay. I was more stressed about hosting my first Thanksgiving (and cooking my first turkey) on Thursday and having a birthday party for Liam on Saturday (not to mention Black Friday shopping).

I suppose, in my own little way, I kept my mind busy. As long as I was occupied, I wasn't focused on the fact that my first baby, my little "dooder" was turning SIX on Saturday.

We filled his room with green and yellow balloons and gave him a Green Bay Packers blanket, along with surprising him with Aunts, Uncle, Ma'am, Papa and Grandma and Grandpa at his party. And yet, it never hit me. I even lit all six candles and carried the cake to him.

But tonight. At dinner. I asked him to set the table and handed him the plates and silverware and he said, "Mommy, can I have a real fork?" I realized I gave him two adult silverware and three toddler silverware.
"But can't you use the one I gave you," I asked.
"No, Mommy. I'm a big boy. I'm six. I need a real fork."

I don't know what it was, but the "I'm six. I need a real fork" really hit me. He IS six. He DOES need a real fork. And then, I started thinking (which is always dangerous). He's SIX. In ten years, he'll be driving. In eight years, he'll have a permit. In three years he'll probably be taller than me....where is my little baby?? My little dooder?

And I take a breath. Because, only once in a while now, but he still does, after his bath, he asks me to cradle him and sing "he's my baby, he's my baby" like I did when Daddy was in Iraq. He still remembers. I hope he always does. Whether he is 6 or 66.

I have a FIVE year old...FIVE.

I can't believe it. My baby. My little baby Liam is FIVE. I thought it was never going to happen. Because, for the last year, all I've heard is, "But I'm NEVER gonna be fiiiiiive." I tried to assure him that "Yes, honey. You will be five." But he never believed it. I guess I didn't either.

Five sounds so old. As Liam says, "It's a whole hand." I can remember turning five. How is it possible that I have a five year old? I still remember finding out I was pregnant with him.I still remember meeting John Ashcroft at a political event and feeling HUGELY pregnant.

I still remember anxiously awaiting my due date, only to see it come and go. I remember the weekend when we went back to my parents house. I was 38 weeks pregnant and we changed his name. We had agreed on Conor for a name but David agreed with me that he liked William. I said, "We can call him Will." Dave said, "No, Liam." And I agreed. It was a good thing we kept the name a secret, otherwise people would have been calling him Conor and it probably would have stuck. But he is definetly a Liam. For sure.


I remember threatening my OB that I would TP his house when I was over a week overdue. I remember having Thanksgiving dinner with the in-laws and trying to sit through "Walk the Line" at the theatre on Thanksgiving Day. I had to get up and walk a few times. Almost two weeks overdue + theatre seats = one very uncomfortable pregnant woman.

And then my induction date finally came (after a few false alarms). Mom and I went to the hospital and Dave joined us after his shift was over. It was a long night and even longer morning. I remember asking for Clergy to come and say a prayer and a person came in and started in on Psalm 23...not really what I wanted to hear!! I remember being told it was time and my mom yelling at me to "Push, Ra! PUSH!" I remember mom noticing baby's heart rate dropping and alerting the nurses and doctors. I remember signing something, drinking something and being wheeled down a hall.

After 18 hours of labor and an hour of pushing, they had to do a c-section. But I remember hearing him cry for the first time. And I cried. And David cried. I saw him and after seeing he was okay, I fell asleep. I was so tired.

I remember waking up, in a room, with only my father in law there. He explained that everyone went to be with the baby but he thought someone should stay with me. That was so nice. Shortly there after, everyone came in with my baby. I told them what his name was, William Alexander. Everyone "oohed and aahed" over him. And all that hair. All that hair. Everyone stepped out so I could learn how to nurse him. And he nursed for the next two and a half years.

But how is he five? How is this little, stubborn, crazy haired baby, five years old?

Happy Fifth Birthday, Dooder. No matter how old you get, you'll always be my little baby.

Mommy "The Princess"

Last weekend we had a Bowman family get together for our birthdays. David and his dad share a birthday, and mine is 6 days later. It makes it easy to do it all at once! Grandma Bowman asked Liam what kind of cake she should get for me, and Liam said "A Princess Cake!"

Today, when I informed him that my birthday is tomorrow, he informed me that I should have a mermaid cake. I said, "Mermaid?" He continued, "Yeah! And I will stir it with a pogo stick!"

Being the only female in the house does allow me to have Princess status. But I'm not sure if I'd want to eat a mermaid cake stirred with a pogo stick. Sorry, Liam.