18 Month Check-Up

Holy cow. My baby is 18 months old. I could only avoid that realization for so long - eventually, I had to take her to the pediatrician and listen to him tell me that my baby is 18 months old.

The news was (almost) all good at our appointment last week. Abigail is growing like a weed: 24 pounds, 12 ounces (50th - 60th percentile) and 33.5 inches long (90th percentile). She has been growing along this same curve since she was born, so the doctor is extremely happy that her growth is constant and consistent. Abby's heart, lungs, and ears received a "perfect" bill of health. Our only downer was a runny nose - the pediatrician held off on some immunizations, telling us to bring her back in when her nose is dry. (Although, come to think of it, Abby probably didn't mind not getting the shots...)

Dr. Cohen told me that Abby is a beautiful little girl with a pretty smile and a pretty voice. Yeah, yeah, doc, tell me something I don't know. :-) This little girl continues to bring such joy to our lives, and it makes my heart sing to know that she is growing up strong and healthy.

The doctor did, however, alert us to the fact that 18 - 24 months can be a very challenging time for parents of toddlers. He warned us that she may become a picky eater, at some points refusing to eat period. He warned us that she will test our boundaries and, no matter how many times we tell her not to do something, she's probably going to try it anyway. Again and again.

Say it ain't so, doc! Are you telling me that this adorable, kind-hearted little girl is going to become a troublemaker?
This adventurous, daring little girl is going to refuse to listen to the words of caution of her mommy and daddy?
This pretzel-munching, meat-loving, drinking milk like it's going out of style little girl might eventually go on hunger strike?
Oh, doc, say it ain't so...

Well, to be forewarned is to be prepared. So, Carey and I are ready (or as ready as we'll ever be). Abby, be a toddler. Explore. Discover. Play. But know that mommy and daddy are looking out for your best interests. So if we tell you not to touch the oven or give you broccoli for dinner, it's because we love you. You may not like it. You may get mad at us. You may cry if we put you down and cry when we pick you up. But you know what, little girl? We love you. Nothing will ever change that. So if you need to go through this phase, fine. We'll get through it together, with hugs and kisses and blankies and lots of love. Because as difficult as things may be, Carey and I could not imagine our life without this: