15-month appointment

Today was Ari's 15-month appointment. Tony ended up staying home since he wasn't feeling well, so it was just us girls headed for the doctor's office. I think the last time I took her to an appointment alone was back in January, because Tony was down visiting his mom. It felt a little weird to be going alone. I made sure to grab her pacifier and her Belle doll (which she is getting quickly attached to) before heading out the door.

First order of business, as always, was weight and height. So here are the stats: she weighs 23 lbs. 10 oz. and is 33" long. And, as last time, those numbers put her in the 50th percentile for weight and over the 100th percentile for height. My little supermodel baby.

I kept her entertained while we waited for the doctor--she was intent on playing with (and ripping) the crinkly paper on the table, while I tried my best to distract her. At one point, I poked her belly and asked, "Where's your belly?" She started glancing around until she finally glimpsed her Belle doll lying behind her and reached for it. I can see how that would be confusing.

The appointment was good and bad. Bad because Ari flipped out every time she had to hold still, but good because she's healthy, growing well, and doing what she's supposed to be be doing. I think the thing I like best about these appointments is being reassured that she's "normal."

"I'm sorry she's squirming so much--she's like that every time I change her diaper or try to get her dressed."

"That's normal."

"She says 'bye' and even waves, but she won't do it until the person is actually, physically leaving, or already gone."

"That's normal."

"There have been a couple days where she's slept in until 10 or 10:30 in the morning."

"That's normal."

"She's a picky eater. I feel like all she ever eats is carbs."

"That's normal."

Not that I was necessarily worried about all these things. Or maybe I was. Maybe I pictured the doctor shaking her head at me and chastising me for not force-feeding Ari vegetables, or waking Ari up at the same time every morning, or still letting her drink from a bottle. It's good to know that as odd as I may think her behaviors are, for the most part, they are normal.

She was thrilled with the thing the doctor used to look in her eyes--she wanted to hold it, and she even "cuddled" it a little. She didn't mind him putting the stethoscope on her leg, but when he tried to put it on her back, she swatted him away. Then when I had to restrain her arms and head so they could check her ears and mouth, she lost it--she writhed, screamed, and generally acted like we were killing her. One good thing that came out of all her struggling was that both the doctor and the physician's assistant commented on how strong she was. Sometimes I think she's freakishly strong for her age.

The shots came at the end, and of course, she cried, but I think half the reason she was upset at that point was because she was already all worked up from fighting the regular exam. She calmed down quickly, and was in a great mood by the time we left.

I took her home, gave Tony the 411 on how the appointment went, and got ready to head off to work. As I left, Ari was in her highchair eating breakfast. I said bye to her in my usual fashion--waving and exaggerating the word "bye", saying it over and over in an attempt to get her to say it back. In reply, she just stared at me.

I walked out the door, closed it behind me, and as soon as the door clicked, I heard her say, "Bye." I pushed the door back open, stuck my head in and called, "I totally heard that!"

Laughing, Tony replied, "She was waving, too!"

Little goober.