Adelai is Two!

Dear Adelai,

You are two years old.  I can barely write any further because that sentence alone makes me speechless.  My girl is growing up. And wow, have you grown up.  

This past year, you started to keep pace with your brothers.  In your first year, you were gentle and reserved.  You watched your brothers with a sense of almost pity and with moments of disdain.  They played in dirt, jumped off couches, crowded you with overly excited affection and built stuff.  You seemed perplexed by this.  This year, you jumped into the clan of Garland kids with both feet.  You love them and look for them all day long.  You can often be heard saying “Where’s Chaze? Where’s Jutin?” Your favorite thing to do with them is to run up and down the hallways yelling and screaming.  Your face is lit up with joy.  You also love sitting by them, lying in daddy and mommy’s bed with them, and you particularly follow Justin wherever he goes. 

But you are all girl.  I remember watching you lay eyes on a doll for the first time and your face lit up with glee.  You take care of your babies all day.  You are constantly wasting boxes of diaper wipes washing their faces over and over again.  You love to color and have recently fallen in love with princesses and Strawberry Shortcake.  You hardly ever willingly wear pants and repeatedly call yourself a princess throughout the day.  In short, you know who you are. 

 The first year of your life, you were gentle and unassuming.  You were hesitant to meet physical milestones, quiet and you cuddled a bunch.  You didn’t speak much and could easily be described as reserved.  And then you weren’t.  You are sassy, young lady.  Sassy.  I have no idea where you get that from.  (Your mommy is so passive!) You hold your own with your brothers.  You are a force to be reckoned with.

You have a tendency to attack people when they aren’t doing as you command.  This includes lifting your arm up with the intent to assault and running across the room to complete the crime.  And you don’t just hit once, you hit over and over again.  As you are being carried into time out, you continue your assault on your victim until you are placed in your room.  You then scream, stick out your tongue and slam the door.  You can then flip the switch, flash a dimple and ask nicely for your demand.  Usually you are asking for something completely insane, so when the answer is still “no”, you scream again, attempt a swat, end up in your room and slam the door again.  Then you come out happy and life moves on. 

Your favorite word and clearest word is “NO.”  You don’t yell it, you just state it firmly and frequently.  All the time, really.  You haven’t really gotten a hold of vocabulary yet, but Daddy and I understand you because we’ve learned the Adie language.  You are up to two word sentences, but they have to be the right words.  For example, you have “No, Mama” down pat.  Love that.  Right now I think I’m fine with your vocabulary, because based on your blossoming sassiness, I’m just fine with your inability to express yourself.  Heaven help us when you actually can say what you are thinking.   

You love water and over the past year, your heaven is in the bathtub.  That is, until you started pooping the tub a few weeks ago.  Now you don’t like it so much.  Whenever I ask you if you’d like to get in the tub, you instantly say “poop?”  You also are on the verge of potty training, but can’t quite get the order down.  Right now, you poop your diaper, secretly take it off and then sit on the potty.  You’ll understand that this is not a great moment for me when you’ve smeared feces on the toilet, the carpet, your clothes and then you are remarkably unhappy with the results. 

Your laugh is perfection.  Straight from heaven.

Sometimes (all the time) I want to beg God to freeze time when you are sitting on my lap, all cuddled up.  At bed time, you whisper “nigh, nigh, mama.  Luhyu.”  I think probably if I never had another moment on the planet, I could stand before God and be grateful just to have had that one moment with you.  You and your brothers are the delight of my heart. 

These words just seem stupid because I will ultimately fail to express how you light up a room.  I’ll fail to express how the very sight of your smile when I get home from a stressful day at work washes all the unimportant stuff away.  I won’t adequately be able to tell you that you motivate me to be an authentic woman of God because I want to live up to my own personal standard of who is worthy of  being the mommy of Adelai Makena.  I look at you and think about all that you deserve, and then I look back at myself and think “Wow.  I have work to do.”  Because I know from the depth of my soul that God gave me you with an intention to raise you up in righteousness.  And can I admit that I feel like I still need more “raising up”?

I get told over and over to “enjoy these years with her because woe to you when she’s a teenager.”  In reality, I think it’s more like a life long sentence of loving a creature so much that you simultaneously must have a goal of independence and self sufficiency, yet deeply desire a life long connection and an ultimate moment when I get to hold your hand within the gates of Heaven.  I don’t care if you ever speak clearly.  I don’t care if you ever hate me, if you struggle, if you succeed beyond all imagination.  What I do care about is your eternity.  Sometimes as I see you walking out into the world, my prayer is simply that God would grab ahold of your heart.  That you would love Him early and that He would be the delight of your life.  Because my Adelai, I’ll fight hell for you.  I will fail at many things (like turning your clothes pink or forgetting a bunch of stuff), but I am resolved to not fail at this.  And don’t hesitate to remember that you got your sassiness from somewhere.

My sweet baby girl....it’s an honor to be your mommy. You inspire me. You humble me.  You make me laugh and you show me yet another sign of God Almighty in a tender hearted, fiery little girl. 
Love you Adie-Mak. 

Love, Mommy

A Routine Shiner

She sat in her hospital crib, suddenly laughing hysterically at a simple toy.  It was clear that she was feeling the effects of the medication she had received as she swayed from side to side. She tipped over into the pillow, flashed her dimples at me and giggled.  Her smile takes up so much of her face, and I noted the curls in her hair as she grabbed my attention like she so easily does.  I reached to pick her up, but she nonchalantly said "no" and went about her play.  I noticed that she was beginning to drool from her lip, so I quickly attended to her as she folded her tiny body over to press her face into the mirror on the toy.  She was delighted by her reflection.  I was delighted by her delight, even though her ever increasing independence in the world was, at times, tough to accept....or should I say, tough to celebrate.  She owns me.

I tried to appear carefree for her for a few minutes until I realized that she wasn't looking at me anymore.  Then  I stopped.  No sense in pretending that my heart wasn't burning in my chest as the doctors ran through the simple, routine procedure.  The anesthesiologist told me how he would care for her and was completely taken by her grin.  "Are you trying to win me over, young lady?  You had me at your first giggle."  She brightened as if she somehow understood and then sunk into her pillow further with pure glee.  Her laughter filled the tense room. Not a care in the world.

As they were preparing to wheel her away, I overheard a surgeon giving a family a completely different scenario.  "This is a risky situation" and "we'll keep you updated on the progress if we make any...." As they wheeled my girl away, my eyes filled with tears as I was full of gratitude yet couldn't stand the image of her happy little carefree body being whisked away from her mommy.  She never looked for me.  She was growing up.  It's the kind of security that comes from being well-loved...knowing that your mommy will always be back...always come for you.
I will always come for her.

The 30 minute wait turned into two hours.  In retrospect, I think God just shielded me from this knowledge, because I didn't really notice.  The doctor came and explained that it had not gone well.  She was missing a tear duct in her eye that was responsible for 70% of the drainage in the eye.  He explained that she might have to have some kind of extensive surgery, but I didn't listen to anything he said.  I pictured her hair, recently having exploded into curls.  Her inquisitive eyes.  Her fingers...her toes. He gave me a reassuring smile, but I give that smile to patients all the time after I've given them a pep-talk.  I know it doesn't mean much. He left and nearly immediately, they called for the mother of Adelai Garland. I rose from my chair trying to hide the anxious desire to push down grandmas and shove people aside to get to her.

I entered through double doors and there were children lying in beds, along the walls.  Some were sleeping, some were moaning as they woke up, some were sobbing.  I saw Adelai being held by a nurse.  Her eyes were visibly swollen and, under her left eye there was a dark purple bruise forming.  Blood sat on her lip, flowing slowly out of her nose. Her eyes were closed, but she was whimpering and sort of flailing around, yet without much effort.  I said her name and she sort of lunged in the direction of my voice with a sob. I caught her, clumsy in my attempt to scoop her with all her wires.  She fell into my body with a sigh and was unconscious again.  Her breathing became calm and she was home.  I am still her home.

Her head still fits perfectly under my chin.  Her body bends perfectly into mine, as if God created me specifically for what her body would need on this day.  We blended like puzzle pieces.  As I sat and rocked her, I remembered what it was like to be pregnant with her and then to hold her newborn body as she lay like this....so trusting and so peaceful.  I hugged her tightly and took deep breathes for her, helping her to regulate her breathing further.  Her oxygen saturation got back up to 100% and they were pleased.  She woke up a little further, lifted her face suddenly off of my shoulder and stared at me, about 5 inches from my face, as if confirming that it was really me.  She was reassured and dove into me again.  Back to sleep.  It is really me.

Over time, she woke up further and suddenly, a switch was flipped.  She became angry and irritable.  She threw stuff, shoved me away as if I had made her hurt and sobbed inconsolably.  She screamed, ripping off her band-aid that eventually took the place of the IV and bled all over her favorite blanket.  A patience lives in me that is not my own, because I simply sat for awhile as she tried to hit me and waited for her.  Then, she reached for me again and I delighted in her return.

She has a black eye now.  The world has dealt her a blow.  She has spent the day content with staying on my lap for hours at a time.  When she is in pain, she suddenly turns on me, but she finds her way back to my lap.  I am her safety.  She will forget that tomorrow, but it won't change the fact that I am her home.

And when she forgets it, and then remembers it, I'll smile knowingly, with a heart bursting with love.  First, because I'm a mommy and I live for her.  But second, because I do that to my Abba Father all the time too. When I get a black eye and remember to run back to my Home, His heart absolutely bursts with joy.

I should probably remember that.  You should too.

Conspiracy Theory

I have been on a mission for 17 months to get my daughter to say my name as her first word. 

It's true.  I worked with moderate effort to get my boys to say Mama, but both said "ball" clear as day way before they ever uttered the name of the woman who carried them for 40 weeks and then had them cut out of her body.  But I'm not bitter.  I'm awesome like that.  Totally graceful, totally not self centered.  A real mom.  I just want them to be happy, healthy and great contributors to society. 

And I also want them to remember that I am the most important person in their life.  Is that so much to ask?

So with Adie, I realized that I needed to step up the effort.  And I bumped it up several notches.  But she has been speechless for 17 frickin months.  Much to my dismay, she has created an entire language of grunting and squeals that every person understands.  Do you know how many times you have to say MAMA in 17 months when you feel like her first word could come any day? 

By the way, she has been saying "Hiiiiiii" upon greeting people for about 2 months, but I refuse to acknowledge that.  Clearly it was a fluke.  That would be a stupid first word, so it's not a contender. 

And Chris? He pretends he doesn't care at all.  He never says his name, and relies on me to introduce Dada to the mix.  Big mistake, Mister.  Because secretly?  When you are gone?  I call you "That One Guy" and "The Biological Contributor To Your Genetics".  Gotcha.  I did say I was on a mission, didn't I?

So my dream came true.  She has been saying mamammama for awhile, but finally a few weeks ago, I heard her yell "Mama! Mama!" when she wanted out of her crib.  And it has become consistent and I have lept for joy every time.  She probably thinks that "Mama" is the word to say when you want the tall lady to stop everything, scream and clap her hands furiously with a big smile on her face. 

And suddenly Chris is not feelin it.  His mouth dropped and he feigned pessimism.  "I didn't hear mama at all" and then "she thinks everything is called mama" and then "I can't friggin believe that she can say mama and NOT DADA". 

So he's gone into overdrive and I've caught him enrolling Adie into DADA boot camp.  Too bad she's so stubborn that she just stares at him.  I bet she is thinking "Why is Biological Contributor To My Genetics saying "dada" all the time?"

We also happen to play a lovely game in the Garland house where "No Nose" has to change poopy diapers.  Who ever touches their nose last after someone yells "No Nose changes diaper!" has to chase her down, pin her down, and engage in 5 minutes of a poopy wrestling match with a 17 month old who squeals like a pig. 

This morning, I promptly yelled "no nose!" and laid my head on my pillow, victorious. 
"No way!" I heard.  "She can make her own choices now.  Adie?  Do you want MAMA or dada to change your diaper?"  Chris said, ever so smugly. 

I thought I had been duped.  So screwed.

"DA." She yelled.
Both of our mouths dropped.
"Did she just say Da?" Chris asked, clearly flabbergasted.
"Yep." I said, totally delighted in my daughter. 
"This is a conspiracy.  A Garland Woman Conspiracy." He said, totally defeated twice over as he stood up to do the duty. 

That's my girl.  Nice try, That One Guy.  Nice try. 


 

Adelai Dancing

Adelai Tap Dancing

Adelai loves to dance, and she's developed this little move that she does that melts my heart.  Check it out.  It brightens my day every time. 

She's Not that Innocent

This blog title is two-fold.

1) I just stole internet from my neighbor to write this blog.  That's a first for me.  I'm a criminal...but let's face it.  It was a long time coming.  They have these two small dogs that bark in tandem so that the result is one continuous bark that makes me want to go over there and pound on the door one of these times.  SERIOUSLY?  Who wants two small dogs anyway?  And if you want them so bad, let them out of the garage.  We want our giant dog Ringer to be quiet so bad that we let him sleep on our bed, under the covers.  Get desperate, people.  So I stole your internet.  Sorry 'bout that.

2) We are also talking about our gorgeous girl with the crooked teeth smile and the double dimples that make you want to give her knives and other sharp objects just because she looked at them fondly.  Oh, really?  You want to take out every single silverware out of the dishwasher and throw them all over the kitchen? Okay. 




Adelai is almost 14 months old, and she's recently developed a mental illness.  It's no use denying it, since I have the degree to prove it.  Adelai has PICA.  I'm not sure that all letters should be capitalized, but when you are eating completely strange things on a repeated basis for a substantial amount of time, I think the name of the disorder is probably worthy of all caps.   
So.  In the last week, Adelai has ingested

•  a significant portion of several (at least 4?) Nerf balls
• 3+ crayons
• a portion of a plastic fork

Now, if you have never housed 2 young boys for a significant amount of time, you are probably wondering why Chris and I didn't just remove all of the Nerf balls in the house.  That's an excellent question.  One worthy of explanation to you, as well as the DHS caseworker that is no doubt headed my way since I disclosed above that I'm a criminal and that my child is totally out of control. 

The answer is actually quite simple.  If you had come to my door 2 weeks ago and asked to borrow a Nerf ball, I would have looked a bit puzzled and stated "I'm not sure if we have one.  Let me look around.  Probably not though."

But Adie has found at least five.  FIVE.  TO EAT.  LIKE A CRAZY PERSON. 
Of course I grabbed all the balls out of her hand.  But she kept finding more.  It's like the boys have a stockpile of stuff that I probably don't even realize.  And Chris and I are out-numbered.

Then I had this really ridiculous thought the next day.  I didn't want to throw away these perfectly good balls (except for the significant chunks of missing foam stuff out the side), because it was probably just a fluke, right?

Wrong.  I saw her in the playroom the very next day.  She spotted the ball from across the room.  Romantic music began to play and everything became slow motion as she gleefully charged the ball and immediately took a big bite out of it.  The following day, Chris told me that Adelai came walking up to him with puffed out cheeks; when he pushed on her cheeks, chunks of Nerf ball fell out and she laughed hysterically. 

So the Garlands can no longer own Nerf balls, thanks to crazy Adie and her addiction to eating foam.  Makes me want to pull her aside and whisper "Adelai.  We already have a crazy person in the house.  Please stop competing.  Justin will not lose, baby girl."

And a quick note about the eating of the plastic fork.  This also sounds like remarkably poor parenting on my part.  For the record, she was sitting on my lap and I was talking with several adult women.  Not a single person noticed that she was eating a fork until a lovely girl pointed out that part of the fork was missing.  And yes, in fact, one of the prongs was missing and never was to be seen again.  Can this really be my responsibility?  I've never had to instruct my children that forks are not part of the meal.  Who saw that coming?

So back to the Nerf ball.  She ate chunks out of all those balls on the same day that she ate at least two crayons.  So naturally I thought she was probably going to die and called the doctor's office.  The nurse put me on hold three times.  Obviously they have not received this particular concern  very often.  She said, super slow..."Okay....so..your 13 month old...ate...how many Nerf balls again?" She then went directly to the doctor (a first for the Garland home with a triage nurse) and told us to call poison control. 

And hey, guess what?  I have that number memorized.  So depressing. 

So I called poison control, and the lady BURST OUT LAUGHING FOR AT LEAST TWO MINUTES. 
Not joking. 
She was actually really nice, but seriously. She calmed herself, apologized and said  "She's going to be just fine.  Neither are toxic and both will come out exactly how they came in, so you're in for some interesting diapers, sweetheart."
Then she seemed remarkably careful to ask for my zip code, reassuring me that none of the calls get reported.  Clearly she thought I was no longer in the running for Mother of 2011 Award. 
"Oh, and Jess?  You should memorize this number because I'm sure we'll be talking again."
"Actually, I already have your number memorized because I have a wild three year old who is trying to make me crazy, one day at a time."
"Oh sweetie.  Now you have two."

Crap.

My Adelai

Dear Adelai,

You are turning 12 months old next week.  It honestly blows my mind that you are nearly one year old.  Feels like just yesterday that the ultrasound tech told me that you were a girl.  I had been coaching myself on how to respond if the tech told me you were a boy.  Because oh, how I wanted you.  I knew I was missing somebody and I knew I was missing something.  And I knew, walking into that ultrasound that if you had been a boy, I would have spent my whole life loving you just the same, yet missing something. 

When the technician said "It's a girl!",I instantaneously burst into tears.  Not the cute weepy tears, but the sobbing, snot filled tears.  I think I even immediately attacked the tech, saying "You aren't kidding me, are you? Are you sure?  How sure are you?" Then we had this incredibly awkward moment where she showed me your...ahem...body parts and I walked away from that appointment with absolute glee. 

I couldn't wait to see your beautiful face.

And when I saw your face, I loved you immediately - meaning, the moment that my eyes saw you, I loved you with every ounce of my heart.  It's the kind of love that transforms a mother's heart into something brand new.  As in, one hour before you were born, I thought I'd be overjoyed to see you.  The second you were born, I was overjoyed at the prospect of giving my life for you.  I was 100% willing to do whatever it took to guard you and nurture you and love you all the days of my life. 

You found your place quickly....right on my chest, burrowed under my chin. 

We spent the first 72 hours of your life just like this.

I was a bit concerned that you'd be crushed by your brothers.

But you really aren't.  You handle them with innate skill.  As if they are basically your entertainment, and if they happen to flip you around and drag you around the house (that only happened three times), you are just fine. 

You are a trooper.

So you came into our family like a breath of fresh air.  Previously I had been gravely outnumbered.  It looked grim.  I saw smelly boys with potty talk humor and many sport programs on TV in my future.  And I wondered how a baby girl would handle it.  But Chase, Justin, Mommy and Daddy all agree:

You are our princess.

So I loved you at sight, but the more I learn about you, the more I'm in love with you all over again.  Funny how that works.  I think one of my favorite things about you right now is your disposition.  You are literally so gentle.  All year long, you have learned things very early, yet held out to use your skill until you are 100% certain that it will work out.  Recently that applies mostly to walking.  We've all seen you walk.  In fact, both Daddy and I have seen you lift a stool up over your head while standing without support.  But nevertheless, you aren't 100% confident, so you aren't about to do it.  And it turns out you'll walk without a second thought when you are moving towards food.  (You love food.  Really a lot.  Like, more than anything.) But, for now, you book it old school by crawling.  You actually did that with crawling too.  You didn't crawl for the longest time, and then suddenly you just crawled across the house like it was no thing.  It's as if you have this thing you are working on, and it's in your back pocket until you've worked it out in your head.  And you won't budge until you are ready.

Right now, you race around the house like a pro with the walker.

And every time your brothers "toot" and consequently nearly die from laughter, I look at you and wonder if the boys laughing at "toots" might break your gentle little heart someday.  You honestly look offended already. 

And you are happy.  Everyone always tells me that you are so happy.  I love that about you.

My happy girl.

But my all time, most favorite thing about you is that you already know how to hug.  You come crawling over to me, out of the blue, pull your self up and lunge your body towards me.  Then, you rest your head on my shoulder and you talk.  Sometimes, you hug me so long that we dance to music and sing and you say "mama mama mama" the whole time. 

So, my sweet girl, Happy Birthday.  If you had anything to do in picking me as your mommy, I'm so thankful.  God's fingerprints are all over you and I can't wait to see all that He has planned for you.  It is my honor to be charged with raising you up into a gentle woman of God. 

And one more thing. 

Adie, I don't know everything.  Actually, if we are being honest, I pretty much know very little.  I know I will mess up a lot.  But it won't be because I didn't want to be perfect for you.  It really is because I really need Jesus every single day - all day long.  I hope you know that, as much as I'm head over heels in love with you, God loves you so much more. 

And Adelai? I pray for you every day.  I pray that 1) you will grow to love God with all your heart and 2) that you will grow to love God with all your heart, despite your imperfect mother.  And all I have to say about that is that, by the grace of God, we will get through this...you and me (and some other people too, like your daddy...but nonetheless...you and me.)

I love you with all my heart, Adie-girl.  Words will never tell you the full extent, but I'll spend my whole life trying to show you. 
Love,
Mommy

The Dawn of the Personality

There is this moment when a baby makes the transition from blob-in-your-arms to terror-on-the-floor.  For the majority of their first year, babies are fairly black and white.  They are 1) easygoing or 2) not easygoing.  That's about it.  For the most part, barring any developmental challenges, they all smile, they all poo, they all laugh and they all melt your heart.  And you are sleep deprived, but you love the blob, so you are happy about it. 

Or you are drinking coffee by the gallon, so you're happy about that.  Either way, it's nice. 

Here's the way my blob started:


And here's what my blossoming wobbler looks like now:


 So I love her.  Oh my gosh, do I love her.  And she's turning into this little girl, and as she grows, I'm starting to see who she is.  And I'm already planning an entry for her birthday (end of April), so I'll do my best to contain myself here....but suffice it to say that being Adelai's mother has completed me.  Being a mommy to a girl is inexplicably full circle. 

She's now 11 months old, and we've entered the phase where limits have to be set.  It's pretty interesting when this happens, because it reveals so much.  The limits aren't anything horrible - the Garlands are easygoing and we basically have rules around not putting electrical stuff in your mouth, not playing with knives...you know, the basics.  And we do our best to not torture the animals, so we frown on putting thumbs into the eye sockets of the dog and cats.  But other than that?  The world is your oyster, Garland child.  Do some damage. 

When Chase hit this moment and we said "no, Chase", he slowly put the offending object down and looked at us....for like 10 minutes.  And his chin may have quivered a bit, but it was more a sense of pondering...as if he had a litany of retaliation, but his one word of "ball!" wasn't going to cut it.  So he remained pensive.  And 4 years later, he's still pensive and I'm waiting for the day when he unleashes all these ideas and I'll be hit with a wave of deep thoughts.  It's coming. 

When Justin was told no for the first time, he took the offending object and slammed it on the ground as hard as he could and then hit me.  Need I say more?  It's yet to change.  When we play baseball and he misses 3 balls in a row, he hits the bat on the ground and does a toddler version of cussing himself out.  Chris and I have to constantly help him to sooth himself.  He's got a hair trigger temper and he always has.  We are trying to learn how to patch holes in the wall now so that we can be prepared.  It's coming. 

So Adelai?  Today I came upon her putting part of the computer cord in her mouth.  And I swear, I just quietly said "Adelai, no..." from across the room.  And I'm not even joking, she turned around, made eye contact, dropped to the ground and burst into tears.  And it wasn't the kind of tears wherein the child can recover.  This was the kind of tears where life has ended, the soul has been mortally wounded and there is no hope for redemption.  She. Was. Devastated. 

I scooped her up in my arms and she layed her head on my shoulder (a rare moment these days since she's so interested in the world) and literally sobbed.  Snot on my shirt, tears running down her face...sobbed.  For two minutes.  And I kept saying "baby, it's okay! I love you. It's okay." But she just cried and cried and cried.  She eventually calmed down, but now the computer cord is like kryptonite and she won't come within 10 feet of it. 

It just cracks me up.  Maybe she inherited my terror of getting in trouble.  But then it seems Justin inherited my temper.  And it also seems Chase inherited my affection for thinking for hours.  So where is Chris in the genetics? 

They do seem to have a deep rooted love for doughnuts and chocolate milk.
 


I bet they will end up living in a van down by the ocean. 



Adelai

Every time I start to write an entry about our little girl, I can never finish it.  It's not that there is nothing to report.  She is growing, she is beautiful, she is delightful, she is amazing.  I guess I probably stop myself because I'm afraid that if I really wrote about this adorable little girl, it might sound like I love her the best. 

Mommy guilt is a tough one sometimes.  If I post something about the joy that is Adelai, you'll be able to scroll through this blog and see that I write all the time about crazy Justin and sensitive Chase, but you'll see me gush about this girl and I can barely contain myself.  I'll just keep going and going.  And going.  She is seriously wonderful.

I am realistic though.  I've been around a few blocks as a mother, so I know that realistically she just hasn't developed the ability to voice herself.  Therefore, she's untainted.  She has plenty of years to join the ranks of her brothers and I'll be ready.  Maybe.  Okay, it'll take me off guard.  But for now, here is a little information on this lovely girl.

Adelai (pronounced Ad-duh-lye...rhymes with pie...for the 99% of the world that can't pronounce her name) is a girl.  I know right?  Who knew the Garlands could have one of those?  Did you know they are different than boys?  I think God gave her to me because he saw my life and said "Dude.  This is hysterical, but it's time to give this girl a break."  Adelai is patient.  She can wait a good 5 to 10 minutes for whatever she needs.  It's as if she came into the home and spoke Chinese and the rest of us just don't get it.  Patient?  What the heck?  Is there something wrong with her?  Why isn't she crying? 

Not only is she a girl and patient (and yes, Chris, you can have both- I just don't), but she is mostly content with whatever.  The boys came out and were pretty much on the move.  Both sat up by their 6 month check up, both were crawling by 9 months (Justin was actually running at 9 months), and Chase was walking at 11 months.  I knew Justin was way early, but I thought that was pretty much normal.  Adelai, on the other hand can't be bothered with physical stuff.  She is 7 months old and I'm still trying to encourage her to sit up.  She falls often, and it's a bother to try and get her interested in anything besides people.  She loves to watch her brothers and she's pretty happy with constant eye contact. 

But if you can't do that, it's okay.  Just whenever you return, she'll be delighted. 

It's almost creepy. 

What else can I say?  She kinda likes food, she loves to cuddle and she has an enormous rear end.  For the record, I know that is thoroughly inappropriate, but seriously if you know anything about our boys, you know that having junk in the truck region is unheard of.  I wonder if she is really my kid?

She loves to sleep and she loves her feet.  I think that covers it. 

She's a bright warm light in my life, and I'm just overjoyed that I get to be her mommy.  I hope I do her justice.  I'm a little worried that we're going to struggle, mostly because she seems to be my exact opposite and I think maybe I should be the student in this situation...but nevertheless, being on the other side of a mother-daughter relationship feels full circle.  Before she was born, I didn't really think I was missing anything.  I think it was about 4 seconds after her birth that I realized exactly what I had gained.  It's safe to say that I'm a huge fan of Miss Adelai Makena.