Tuesday, April 6, 2010
After a very long morning of "momming" around--running errands--with Will, he and I went to visit Daddy at his office (I had the day off for post-Easter break) to show Will off and then go to lunch. We went from there to the doctor's office for Will's one-year well baby checkup. His stats were
Weight: 17 lbs, 4 oz.
Height: 27 1/4 inches
Head Circumference: 45 cm
That translates to less than the 5% for height and weight, and 25% for his head size. As the nurse said, "At least his brains are growing."
After the nurse left us, Will tried to tear the room apart while we waited for the doctor. I showed him how to push around the rolling chair in an attempt to get him to leave the trashcan alone (which I eventually sat up on a chair to get it out of reach). He was a frantically busy boy.
Dr. Thompson didn't have any great revelations for us. He declared that Will looked healthy and energetic, and that he was either going to be a small kid or he would start to catch up (hmmm....well, I guess those would be the options, wouldn't they???). I glimpsed that Dr. Thompson wrote "playful" in his notes about Will. The doctor did give us the go-ahead to try out nuts carefully. I told him that Will's reflux has been acting up again--with him spitting up quite a bit almost every day again. As I suspected, Dr. Thompson said he would let Dr. Steele--the GI--make any calls about changing his reflux meds. I was hoping he would have outgrown them by this point, but it seems not to be. The only worry that might be is that Will does not have many words yet--Mama is the only solid one; we've heard Da-da once, as well as d-d-d-d for the dogs, and Buh for bye. Apparently they expect 2-3 besides Mama and Dada. Dr. Thompson said as long as he seemed to be understanding what we were saying (which he does), then all is likely fine. He said it's not unusual for boys to be a bit later with their talking . . . Bil was reportedly an early talker (like 9 months), but I was later--not till 18 months. My mom is unclear on whether I didn't have any words at all or just nothing impressive, but apparently she did not consider me to be talking until I went to stay with Granny and Grandpa Smith by myself at 18 months, and Granny called and told her I was speaking in sentences, which turned out to be the truth and not a grandmotherly exaggeration.
After Dr. Thompson left, the good part of the appointment was over, and the nurse came back to administer THREE vaccines (all shots--yuck!). Poor little guy. Instead of getting to nurse him while he was getting them, she had me hold him down on the exam table. He howled, of course, and clung like a spider monkey to my neck.
We also had to go to the lab for him to give some blood to test for lead and anemia. He was very good in the waiting room--charming the old men who were in for their diabetes testing. Will hardly cried at all when his finger got stabbed and milked for two little vials of blood. He was quite offended at the cotton fluff and tape that the phlebotomist put on his finger afterwords, and complained loudly about it till we were out of the parking garage, which is when he crashed.
When we got home, I left him sleeping in the car, and then Rachel came over to keep him so that Bil and I could go out for our anniversary. We had a very nice, peaceful outing, and Rachel said Will was in an extremely good mood, but also crashed as soon as she fed him. She also made the discovery that some of the weird waving up against his face that Will does when no one is leaving is his version of the milk sign, which we had totally been missing. Poor little guy was trying to tell us what he wanted, and we were too dumb to understand! After we got home, and Will woke up, I saw him doing the sign and asked him if he wanted some milk. He got really happy and excited, and then when I handed him the sippy cup Rachel had fixed for him earlier, he reacted with dejected anger, refusing even to hold the cup (usually even if he doesn't drink from a cup, he enjoys fiddling with them). Apparently he wanted his milk from Mama, not a sippy!