Isabella had her 1 year checkup last week, and she's grown quite a bit from her 9 month checkup.
She's 30 inches long (75th percentile), her ginormous cranium is now tipping the scales at a whopping 47cm (moving her up to the 90th percentile) and most exciting of all, she weighs 20 pounds, and 1/2 an ounce, putting her in the 50th percentile. To this point, she's hovered between the 15th and the 25th percentile for weight, so for her to finally hit the 50th is fantastic. Must be all those Twinkies and Slurpees I've been feeding her.
In addition to her physical (knee caps still present, by the way), she had to have her blood drawn to check for anemia and lead (this is a standard blood test in my state). If you've never taken your baby for a blood test before, let me advise you to bring another adult with you. A friend who had just taken her 1 year old for a blood test gave me this advice, and so I brought my great aunt with me, not for moral support, but to pin down my poor, flailing daughter as the phlebotomist gave her a fingerstick (no tears!) and then pushed enough blood to the tip of her finger to fill two vials (complete screaming meltdown). If my aunt hadn't been there to hold her arm during this process, I'm certain Isabella would have cold-cocked the very kind and gently phlebotomist who I'm sure doesn't derive much enjoyment from making babies cry.
Surprisingly, this tiny fingerstick produced enough blood on the bandage Isabella was supposed to wear for the rest of the day to give the appearance that my daughter had knawed off the tip of her finger rather than received a small pinprick hole for bloodwork purposes. It was so grotesque-looking I almost couldn't look at it, and attempted to cover it up with another bandage, which didn't work so well.
And needless to say, following her afternoon nap, I found the bandage chucked onto the floor of her room. Apparently, Isabella couldn't stand to look at it either.