Toddler - Free to Good Home

7/25/2015


I have just found Reuben hanging out my bedroom window throwing all my belongings to the ground, two stories below. This has happened before and I can kind of cope with losing my make up and moisturiser. However, when I go to sign for a parcel and the postman tells me that my bras are in the front garden – that’s where I draw the line.

Last week John Ross, one of my loyal readers at work, asked me why I hadn’t updated in a while. He asked if I had locked Reuben away in a box. My reply – I wish. It has been the exact opposite. Reuben is so far out of the box he can’t even see the box. He has hit new levels of crazy in the last few weeks and quite frankly I couldn’t write a blog post without writing that I wanted to kill him. Last night he threw a shoe at my face because I wouldn’t let him stick the hoover in my dinner. This is what I’m dealing with people. As soon as Reubs developed toddleritis I knew that this stage was going to be hard. But I didn’t know it was going to be hoover in my dinner hard. Give me that sleepless newborn back any day. Here’s some of the antics he has been up to. Only some though, because I have blocked out a lot of them in sheer pain.

 

Dating – It is a very sobering thought to realise that your one year old goes on more dates than you. This week he had a Starbucks date with Amanda-Jane and Niall, followed by a romantic dinner with Amanda-Jane the next evening. You can’t beat chicken goujons by candle light. The date ended with AJ dramatically tipping the table and Reuben picking his dinner out of the carpet. Still better than any date I’ve been on.




Breakfast with Cacie
Dinner with Amanda-Jane (shoutout to Vicki
who had BOTH monsters all day)
 




 


This was cute until the gang chased everyone out of Starbucks

Screaming – He screams all the time. Like ALL. THE. TIME. Can someone please tell Reuben John Finlay that it is possible to communicate without screaming? He doesn’t need to clench his fists, close his eyes, and scream blue murder every time something isn’t going his way. He is so irrational. Yesterday he couldn’t get the wrapper off his ice lolly, so he threw it down and screamed until his throat cracked, and all of a sudden he had what sounded like a smoker’s voice. I can see a reality TV show in the making. Me, the clinically insane mother and Reuben, the smoking toddler.


Only way to shut him up

Hyperactivity – I’m not even sure if that’s a word. But it’s my nice way of saying my son is a psycho. An absolute psycho. I have cut out chocolate and sweets to see if less sugar = less crazy. This has been hard on me too, I need chocolate. I need chocolate very much. Reuben could be playing away. Then every once in a while he stops what he’s doing and runs around in circles, screaming at the top of his lungs, and then he’ll go back to whatever he was doing…as if nothing happened. He is a little Tasmanian devil.


He dresses himself now, and he owns it.
I was late for work.


























Inappropriate behaviour – Not only is he hyper, but his behaviour can also get a little weird. He is a creepy old man sometimes. He grabs my chest in public, slaps my bare bum when I’m getting dressed, and chases me down to lick my legs. I’ve realised that he just does these things for attention, and he’s harmless. But we get some strange looks in Tescos.

Inappropriate adventures – If you know me, you’ll know that ‘exhausted’ is a permanent personality trait of mine. So you will understand that I don’t always wake up easily. And by this I mean – sometimes I’m dead to the world. The other morning I woke up and Reuben was nowhere to be seen. So I walked to the bathroom and realised the front door was wide open. I ran as fast as I could whilst simultaneously having a heart attack as any mother would. I found him  standing ACROSS THE ROAD on the footpath trying to take his pyjamas off. Standard Reuben.
Also this morning I woke up, seeing no Reuben, I ran towards the front door. I realised someone had left the ladder to the attic down. And there was Reuben, sitting up in the roof space, eating a banana. What a ninja. Part of me considered leaving him up there.

 
Sometimes I think of Reuben as a 17 year old. You know when you are at that awkward frustrating age where you are caught in the middle. You are so close to being independent. So close to being an adult and doing what you want. So you push the boundaries. But in reality you are still a child. Reuben is caught in the middle. He’s thinking 'I can walk, I can talk, I can feed myself, I can dress myself, the world is mine' - and on the other side, less than a year ago he couldn’t do any of these things. He’s caught between thinking he can be on his own and feeling like Mummy's little baby. So he's pushing the boundaries. And pushing my laptop keys as we speak.


Nonetheless, he's lucky he's the cutest and most perfect little human
 I have ever met in my life, even with the attitude. 





 

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