Flop and dropping in Fiji overshadowed the fact that I now have a one year old. ONE YEARS OLD!
He is a toddler. The baby years are behind. I’m too tired to really feel all the feels that maybe I could about that.
Mango, who is so much happier being on his feet and cruising and having a geezer about everything, has mastered a good sturdy walk now and even lets me put shoes on him (it was a no go there for a bit). Of course it means I have a shadow wherever I go. He is there and everywhere in .5 seconds flat and you can bet if the front door opens or the toiler door slips ajar, then he just zips on through and into those zones that send me running.
This day I obviously didn’t run quick enough.
I forgot the golden rule. Silence means trouble.
The loo is his favourite hang out. I’m sure he’ll keep that up right until I start asking him to use it.
So he’s curious (obviously) and messy. Fairly typical traits for his age I suppose but sheesh I’d forgotten how exhausting they are. He is fully dedicated to those causes. He will poke his nose in anywhere that is a bit inconvenient for me and shove his hand in and mess it all around, then probably pull it all out on the floor and wander off down the hallway leaving a trail along the way. I find random pieces everything all over the house. Nothing belongs where it should. This lesson about control is sending my a teensy bit mad. We have something like five TV remote controls about the house but naturally when we finally get to sit and watch something we have to hunt through toy boxes and under beds for just one to even turn it on!
I’ve been asked if he’s talking and I have to say, yes, kinda. He’s not like some babies that announce their first word and say it over and over. He yabbers on and off, and more than his brothers ever did at this age. It’s mostly gibberish and then on occasion he will pull out a big word like any three year old would and it sends us all reeling. The perks of having bigger little people teachers hey?
Mango is still very sweet and smiley but he’s also learned how to put on a ripper sourpuss and scold me real good. He can turn on the fiery-ness when he feels there is a great enough cause. He often calls upon it when he wants to prove he is capable enough to do something by himself. I can sense that’s the nearing two year old in him warming up.
He’s an international traveler now too. Fancy having a first birthday and two days later getting out his passport and jetting off to an international destination? I knew nothing like it as a child. My first trip overseas was when I was 18 years old and I paid for it myself. Interestingly it was to Fiji, and it was with Mr Vick but that’s a story for another day.
Of course he was a complete baby rockstar in Fiji because he is the white buddha baby, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Trifecta in terms of amazingness to the locals. They honed in on him and flapped all the attention about him, hoping to get a mere smile. Mid shift they would flick open their mobile phones and take a picture of him. I was all like, um, huh? aren’t I the tourist here?
He took the attention, of course. He showed very little concern about snuggling up with strangers. I’ve noticed that about Mango. There is a certain comfortableness and trust that he has. Is that a thing with third borns?
If you asked him how his Fiji experience was and he was able to comment I’m pretty sure he would say it was fairly shitty considering he contracted Hand Foot and Mouth disease. Isn’t that bag of fun balls? I think he screamed two night flats. Happy holiday!
The real issue, that is an every day thing, is his night wakings. I kid you not when I tell you that I still attend to his cries during the night three to four times. For the most part I don’t mind delivering the needed comfort that he desires ie. my boobs because he is already proving being small is for a short time and this season will not last, but then again on the other hand I am not managing my sleep deprivation as well as I have previously. Previously I have not had three children. So I am all arms up in the air about it. How long should I keep playing his game? I think I’m going to have to be the one who makes the shift because seemingly it’s not something he is growing out of. I’m such a dummy to believe that that will happen every time.
It’s easy to harp on about the illness, the messiness, the sleeplessness but every so often Mr Vick and I will be watching him and he will turn around and smile at us and say something in his cute gibberish lingo and then he’ll lurch himself towards us for a big squeeze and we comment that this is a precious time. Being one is really special. It’s the best of both worlds. Babyhood and childhood mashed into one. And this in between child can teach us so much, even the third!
Anyone else parenting a one year old?
What age did you first travel over seas?
Today I’m linking up with Kylie Purtell – Capturing Life for A Happy Birthday IBOT special.