I just want to know things without the work of learning them. That’s my big problem. I want to know that Pea is fine without waiting for the doctor or an ultrasound. I just want to freakin’ get more than 70% on my organic chemistry tests minus the hours I spend reading, studying, but apparently not learning more than 70% of anything. The worst part is, I know I’m not learning enough when I read, study, and watch videos about Sn2 substitution and alcohol reactions. What I’m trying to achieve is completion. Life these days is a race to get shit done. Only then do I feel a sense of accomplishment even though it’s served with a hangover of not giving it my all. I want to know how to get my life in order without reading all of the Real Simple articles and Self magazine spam e-mails. Well, really, this is all about my damned organic chemistry grade. I’m 0.03% away from actually passing this god forsaken class. I’ve never felt so academically duped in my entire life. Hate it. Hate it. Hate it.
What I love: Connor quitting his pacifier. It happened last weekend after three warning days of baba banishment. On the day, we took him to the store to pick out a “big boy” toy to signify his departure from babyhood. Toys r’ Us ended up being overwhelming for him, so the entire ordeal involved Z and I shoving toys in his face and him pushing them away. I begged for him to like the Monsters U stuffed animals or the adorable training bike they had. We threw cars and trucks at him. Before we found THE toy, the only thing that captured his interest was a pink Minnie Mouse cupcake cart that he wheeled through the aisles. Finally, we left with this:
‘Rad likes riding in cars, in his stroller, on the wagon, he even likes to ride the dog, but for some reason this toy, ohhoho, this toy must be pushed and don’t you forget it.
The first night sans baba was freakishly easy. We had his put his babas in a box, told him they were now going to be for the new baby, and christened him a big boy, to which he readily agreed. He asked for a baba a couple times before we left the room, but we said no and that was that. Nap time the next day suffered a little – what would typically be a 2-2.5 hour nap was a scant hour long (yes babas, I’m blaming that on you). However, he’s woken up happily proclaiming “No babas!” This statement sometimes sounds like a triumph, other times more like a question. No babas for our big boy. Oh god, he’s a big boy.
I also love the fact that he’s recently started digging this new book. We’ve read it (or I’ve made up the story to keep up with Connor’s lighting-fast page turning) at least three times since this morning. ‘Rado says he’s excited about the baby and he pats my expanding belly and kisses it each night. He has not wavered from declaring that he’s having a sister. In less than a month we should be able to determine if he’s right. I’m excited an anxious about finding out Pea’s sex because it makes this pregnancy that much more real (that and the fact that this summer pregnancy seems to have both shortened and widened every part of me. Honestly, my boobs don’t need any help from you, hormones). I don’t know that I’m ready for that. I recall the pings of regret I had when Connor was first born because it was so much easier to take care of him when he was in utero. I know I’ll feel that way even more when we have a two-year old and an infant to take care of. That first ultrasound is a step closer to Pea breaking out. And we all know the issues I have with pee breaking out.
Connor has started breaking out so many new words and phrases in new situations this week that I try to tell them to parents as quickly as possible before I forget them. When Lola took him to church the other day, he proclaimed “All done!” every time they stood up in the pews. Yesterday after taking a sip of Z’s water, Connor pushed his glass back across the table to him and said, “Here you go.” When Lola was having a difficult time unbuckling him from his car seat, Connor said, “Hard?” When she still wasn’t able to get him unlatched after further attempts he asked her, “Really hard?” The other day when I picked him up from Lolo and Lola’s he told me that Lolo picked dog poop up from the hallway. The kid is forming a memory, people. The gig is up! No more letting things slide here and there because he won’t remember or he doesn’t know what’s going on. The kid knows. The kid remembers. The kid looks good in hats even though he shouts “No pictures!” whenever I try to capture him in one . I’m not sure when the paparazzi started following him, but he already dislikes them.