six months.

I feel like this post should be titled “Her Life Up Until Now” instead of “Six Months.” Kenzie hasn’t really received a lot of blog time. For the first three months she pretty much cried all day. That sounds like an exaggeration. It is not.

But to me, her beginnings of life won’t always be defined by her fussiness. In fact, the insanity of it all is sort of fading into the deep recesses of mind and those days are becoming harder to remember.

The untold story is that even during those hard months, I knew there was a happy baby in there. She would reveal her true personality by granting us brief moments of smiles and laughter. And they were show-stopping. A smile brighter than sunshine and a laugh that could make you cry. These were giant gifts to me back then, reminding me that greater times awaited us.

We are here. We made it. She is a delight, full of so many lovely things and a giver of joy. She is small and dainty, yet oozes strength and exercises her strong will. I like that combo. Not always, but mostly.

So many qualities make this girl precious. Her gorgeous head of soft brown hair that’s just now starting to curl. Her coffee-colored eyes. Her bunny cheeks and full, pink lips. The way she clasps her hands together and holds them in front of her face as if she’s praying. The way she isn’t quite into solid foods but can throw down a bottle of Nutramigen with the best of them. How she loves her baths and her Sophie and Baby Einstein. How she jumps in her jumperoo and enjoys being strolled around anywhere. How she coos and tries to imitate the sounds you make. Her amazing laugh when you kiss her cheeks, neck and stomach. How she is just now starting to be “steady” when I sit her down or carry her on my hip. Her ballet pose when we stand her up. How she is snug as a bug with in her swaddle and how we can just pop in a binky in the middle of the night … and she goes back to sleep.

She is a doll. My little doll. I die when I get to put her in dresses and stick big flowers in her hair. I think I will dress her in tutus for the rest of my life.

The word “disarming” comes to mind when I think of her. Such a grown-up word for such a little person. But it’s true. It’s what I notice all the time. She disarms people. When I’m at the mall and a huge biker dude with his bandana and leather and big tattoos comes up to me and squeals “She is so precious!” And makes goo-goo noises. When Caleb is pouty and she simply smiles at him and instantly he’s smiling back. When a stranger sees her and turns to complete mush and acts like we're best friends with our commonality being her. When it’s the wee morning hours and I am exhausted and can't keep my eyes open, but she coos quietly with her eyes fixed on mine. And I suddenly want to be awake.

She is disarming. She wins us over every time.

Happy six months little girl. The longer I know you, the more I know without a doubt that I've waited for you my whole life.

(this most perfect song is by Tyrone Wells. Buy all of his cds. Twice. He's really good.)