Not the post it was suppose to be

Today is Will’s 5th birthday and that is a big deal. Five is just a big deal. We have five fingers, five toes. There are five workdays in our week. We have a nickel for five cents and a five dollar bill and learn to count money in fives. And when their children are at the age of 5, Mothers have to take a long, hard look and realize that they have managed to raise a newborn to an infant to a baby to a toddler to a preschooler to a kid.

This post was suppose to be my tome to my first baby, my boy, the infant I cried everyday over for months, spent hours hooked to a pump and feeding through a finger-tube. The baby I struggled to care for while starting a PhD. The toddler I took away from home before a storm destroyed our city. The preschooler who attended three schools in under a year, spoke two languages, and lived in 3 countries before turning 3 years old. The boy I now look to for help around the house. That guy.

But instead, my arm is weighed down by the heavy head of Kate, who has been throwing up for 7 hours. I’m afraid to leave her side, as she’s so lethargic that I am concerned over her ability to turn her head and not choke when her body decides it’s time for another go. She’s wiped out all her pajamas, most of my clothes, and countless towels, bedcovers, and blankets. It’s going to be a long, long night.

One thing we know is that she won’t make it to Will’s Birthday Party tomorrow.

One other thing I know is that we’re two for two on our lives failing apart right before the Po’Boy Fest; this was the same week Paul had the emergency appendectomy a year ago. I sense a pattern.

So until I can say something more complex and memorable about my darling boy, here is the picture-book account…

Will, fresh out. With antibiotic all over his little eyes. (U of Michigan hospital, Ann Arbor, MI)

Will, eating his first ever cake on his first birthday, New Orleans:

Will on his 2nd birthday. We had a small party in the front yard. Folks came from around the block and commented that this was, “the first post-Katrina party”. My Mom brought a helium tank from Alabama so that we could have some balloons, which Will spent the entire morning popping.

Will on his 3rd Birthday. Argh.

Will, with the little O’Delice cake for his 4th birthday.

Will, today, on his 5th birthday, with his classmates signing Happy Birthday (in French, of course).