My "Don't Wanna Be" Five -Year-Old

Five years ago today, Dave and I were blessed with our baby boy. I was absolutely shocked to have a boy. I felt certain I was having another girl and was content with that. There were no sons on either side of the family, so I was sure we were meant to have daughters only.

I'll never forget that final push; our baby arriving; blessed relief; hearing our baby's healthy cry; Dave cutting the umbilical cord; and finally remembering to ask what we had.

And Dave very quietly - I honestly think he was choked up - telling me we had a son. I remember my doctor (she was the same doctor who attended the delivery of all of my nieces) saying that the "the mold was broken - we now had a boy in our family".

I remember my mom and youngest sister crying as I called them first to tell them. My mom had a grandson. My sister had a nephew.

I remember Dave's sister exclaiming in delight, "I KNEW IT!" There was finally a boy to carry on the name.

I remember the feeling I had of having a son, and a daughter. The Million Dollar Family. A firstborn girl. A son to carry on the family name.

I remember how happy I was that my husband had a son.

I remember the hours that I walked the halls - it was a slow labor, even for my second - arguing with Dave (getting rather ticked at him in the midst of my.....ummm....discomfort) over a girl's name. We had already settled on Seth for a boy, but I was certain we were having a girl.

And I remember Dave telling me a while later that he had believed that God told him we were having a boy, but he just never told me. And to think that man argued with me over a girl's name while in labor. I mean, why couldn't he let me pick any ridiculous girl's name I wanted if he knew we were having a boy anyway, just to make me happy? I tell ya, sometimes men deserve a good smack. :)

My adorable Seffie, at 7 months of age. Unlike his sister, he changed dramatically in his looks as a newborn until now.


One of the most recent pictures I have of Seth, taken in February at the Phoenix Zoo. The little cutie pie.

We had a birthday party last night for Hannah and Seth. It was a late night, but the kids went to bed happy. However, today, his actual birthday, wasn't quite the same. He was a grump all day. Now that the sun comes up much earlier, he cannot sleep in. Consequently, I made him lie down this afternoon. When he woke up, he called me, so I went in and snuggled him for a bit. I reminded him that he was now a big FIVE-YEAR-OLD boy and no longer four.

"I don't wanna be five mom!"

Surprised, I asked why he didn't want to be five.

"Because I don't wanna be six! And six comes after five!"

Shocked even more, I asked him why he didn't want to be six.

"Because when I'm six, I'll lose my tooth! And I don't wanna lose my tooth!"

Tonight in church, the little goose drew me this picture. Of ME. His Mother. I felt special.


Signed by the artist himself. And I ask myself: Did I have bags under my eyes today? Particularly in my left eye?

Either that or I ran into the door frame.

At least I was much, much slimmer. And that works for me.