Oliver Update: 18 Months

As Oliver marches past the 18-month mark, he continues to be more fun and engaging. We can point things out to him and he takes note, and in turn, he points out the world to us (even if we still don't really know what he's pointing at). We can take him to the Children's Museum and he's a participant now, not just an observer. While his walk still has a "toddle" to it, he has more stamina for walking than we think. When visiting national parks and monuments on our trip to Santa Fe, Oliver walked much of the trails by himself and only needed a lift on the steep terrain. He has so much more mobility, and he's started trying to climb on things, so his sense of adventure is picking up.

But this increasingly fun phase has simultaneously been challenging, at least for me as a parent. Even two months ago, Oliver didn't have much opinion on what he did or when. Sure, when he was hungry, he wanted to eat, or when he was tired, he wanted to sleep, but otherwise, whatever mom and dad wanted to do, he was game. Suddenly he has a more vested interest in whatever he's doing at the moment - playing with his toys, engrossing himself in some household object, like dishwasher, bouncing around his crib after a nap, running up and down the sidewalk - but clearly doesn't understand yet time or urgency. He doesn't know when we have to be somewhere or the concept of being on time. He doesn't understand that food doesn't magically appear on the table, so therefore mom needs to end outdoor playtime to go inside and start dinner. He doesn't understand that the kitchen serves a function and isn't his personal playground. Every transition, however minor, like me needing to get into the kitchen cabinet he's happily opening and closing, to potentially enjoyable on his part, like snack time, has the potential to turn into a screaming fit. If I were able to let Oliver do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, for however long he wanted, I'd never wrestle a screaming, writhering kid back into a stroller, or elicit a floor head-banging tantrum over getting pajamas on or getting dressed for the day. There'd be A LOT fewer tears on Oliver's part and less aggravation and cries of "What do you want?" on my part, but Oliver would also spend all day in a soiled diaper in his pajamas and grazing on snack foods, our house would look like a disaster and we'd never go anywhere.

So I try to employ the suggestions from my early childhood education class about preparing kids for transitions and then brace myself for violent disapproval. I give reminders about expectations, dish positive reinforcement and employ timeouts with consistency. Not that the guiding behavior process goes swimmingly, and I've discovered that I'm not always the calm and composed parent I thought I would be. Some days I just have less patience for listening to whining and witnessing tantrums, while other days I'm more in tune with anticipating bad behavior and have better luck with redirecting.

But I know this behavior is typical for this age. And surrounding the frustrating moments is a whole lot of sweetness. Like the way Oliver likes to climb into my lap to have a story read. His four-teeth, gap-toothed grin. The way he mimics mom and dad doing everyday things, like when he tries to brush his own hair or put his socks on by laying them over his feet. When he toddles away, turns towards us and waves an arm towards himself as if he wants to say, "Come on guys! This way!" And of course there are those moments when I see I still have a bit of baby left in him, like that I can still cradle him in my arms, even if he's no longer a seven-pound, 20-inch-long infant, or like when I put him down to sleep wrapped up in his sleepsack, clutching his giraffe lovey and sucking softly on his pacifier.

After our trip to Santa Fe, where we carried Oliver in the Ergo more often than usual, we were convinced he had gained weight. Yet, although he supposedly grew three inches in the last three months to a bit shy of 33 inches, (the doctor said last check-up's measurement or this one had to have been off) he still topped out at just 23 pounds. But he's following his growth curve exactly as the doctor hoped he would.

I wasn't told what the questionnaire I was asked to fill out was about, but friends have told me that at 18 months, kids are given an "autism screening." I answered questions regarding how Oliver reacts to light and sound, how interested he is in other kids, whether he makes eye contact, points out objects, etc. I assuming there was no cause for concern.

What I did report as the doctor went through his development checklist with me is that Oliver still doesn't say any recognizable words. He talks to us, points at lots of things and has "conversations" with his friends, but he doesn't say anything that sounds like adult speech. He comes close with some words and we still wonder if we're just not paying enough attention when he babbles to interpret words. The doctor clearly hesitated in even mentioning that according to the guidelines, Oliver is considered speech delayed, because Oliver did just turn 18 months, and it's between 18 and 24 months that a child's speech really takes off. He said it's not unusual for a child who doesn't say anything at 18 months to have a 100-word vocabulary at 24 months. He didn't even tell me at what point we should truly be concerned and what action we would take in that case, but said that the important part is that Oliver is doing everything else that helps build language development. He engages you in "conversation," points at things and speaks, even if it's still babble, wants us to name things and understands what you're telling him. For my part, I'm truly not concerned for the time-being. We'll see what the next six months bring.