Eighteen Months

A year and a half.  Six months until TWO!  As always seems the case, it’s incredible how time flies.  And for once, we actually had their well-child checkup on their actual “birthday,” so I have both stats and stories for updating.

Daniel, my big Baby A, is just shy of 25 pounds (24lb 14.5oz).  But the pediatrician was onto something when she commented that he looked leaner. Apparently much of Daniel’s growth has been vertical, as he grew nearly two inches in the last three months, up to around 32″ tall.  That puts him right at about the 40th percentile for weight, and 50th for height.

Daniel has become quite outgoing and friendly, and showed that right from the get-go when he walked up to our doctor and asked her to pick him up.  He says “hi” to everyone he sees, and frequently will repeat it until that person says “hi” back.  He loved showing off the words he knows, the list of which is up past 30 now.  He proudly pointed to his nose, eyes, and ears, and to mommy, daddy, and Rebecca (or, in Daniel-speak, “Nee-nee”).  Everything else checked out well, and the doctor pronounced him healthy and an absolute genius.  OK, so maybe I’m paraphrasing.

One of the very few concerns we have with Daniel is his drooling. He’s been a drool-monster forever, but I feel like he’s starting to approach an age where maybe he shouldn’t be going through 2-3 shirts every day, simply due to drool. (Mealtime messes not included.)  Our doctor said the drool itself isn’t inherently a very bad thing, except if it seems to interfere with language (which it does not, Daniel’s words are reasonably clear for a kid his age), or if there also seems to be an issue with chewing food.  Ding Ding! Aha!  That was the next question on my list. Daniel has a weird thing where he doesn’t seem to chew very well, despite having a full set of 16 teeth.  The doctor was not terribly concerned, but suggested we could always get an evaluation from Early Intervention to see if he qualifies for a little occupational therapy.  I think I’ll give them a call, just in case.  Either it’ll be nothing at all and I’ll be reassured, or he’ll qualify for and start receiving services. It’s a no-lose situation, I feel.

My little peanut Rebecca does not appear to have suffered for all the times she seems to skip meals entirely.  In fact, she put on a bit more than a pound and a half to reach 20lb 10oz.  Woo, 6th percentile! The measurements would suggest that she only grew about a quarter of an inch in height, but she had no interest whatsoever in sitting still, so about 30″ was just a best guess.  It only puts her at about the 10th percentile for height, which I think underestimates things just a little.

Rebecca has been extremely wary of strangers the last couple of months. If she knows you or is comfortable, she’s very independent and outgoing, and will happily get a book, shove it in my sister-in-law’s boyfriend’s hands, and climb up into his lap so he’ll read it to her.  But if she’s feeling uncertain or doesn’t remember who you are… she’ll give you the stink-eye, big time.  She had no interest in speaking to, or even looking at, the doctor.  She only wanted to cling to me or M, and screamed bloody murder when so much as approached with the stethoscope (not unlike the barrette fiasco).  It was hard to get accurate measurements as she was so busy screaming as though we were about to poke out her eyes with a sharp stick.  Oh my lord, does that girl have the capability for absolute rage.  Ever since she was a newborn.  Quiet, calm, and then red-faced in anger.

When she’s comfortable, though, Rebecca is all over the place.  She shrieks (often to wake Daniel up when she’s done napping… Daniel is not always as well-rested as she claims to be), she talks to herself and to us. She initiates chasing games with Daniel, yesterday it was each of them with one end of the dog’s leash, running circles around the first floor and giggling.  She loves to dance, she loves it when I sing the alphabet song.  “More, more, more” she signs, and I have to keep coming up with more songs to keep them awake when we’re driving home before naptime.  Her vocabulary is nearly as good as Daniel’s, give or take a few words, though Daniel is at a stage where he much more actively repeats everything I say.  Rebecca, you can tell, knows exactly what’s going on. Her receptive language and ability to follow simple directions is incredible (“go get Daniel’s other shoe, get mommy’s jacket, get Rebecca’s hat, etc.”  she has no problem distinguishing each item). But she plays her hand close to her chest a lot of the time.  She’s clever and calculating.  Trouble, I tell you.

I wrote an entry yesterday for HDYDI about whether or not things get “easier” as they get older.  And I maintain that there’s no real answer.  Some things get easier, some things get harder.  But despite the temper tantrum that Rebecca threw for about 30 minutes when we got home today, I really do like this age. Every new skill makes things more fun, even if it also makes things more challenging.  As I said yesterday: hard is always hard, bad is always bad. But good keeps getting better.