I will teach her...

Cavan and I are sitting at the dining table this morning eating scrambled eggs and I ask Cavan if she is going to teach Emma everything she knows. Cavan says "Yes!" and proceeds to tell me everything that she will teach her little sister.

I will teach her how to walk outside.

I will teach her how to drink a sippy.

I will teach her how to climb the rock wall on my swing set.

I will teach her how to eat with a fork.

I will teach her how to draw my name and her name with pencils.

I will teach her how to learn her letters.

I will teach her how to put diapers on Betty [her doll].

I will teach her how to lock Spoonsy [the dog] in his crate.

I will teach her how to turn on the big music and the little music [the stereo system and the ipod dock].

I will teach her how to put the [re]cycle in the bag.

I will teach her how to put one leg and two legs like this and flip right off [in reference to climbing of the bench].

I will teach her how to cook in my kitchen.

I will teach her how to rock on my rocking horse.

I will teach her how to climb the stool.

I will teach her how to pet The Boodgies [the cat] so nice.

I will teach her how to vacuum with my vacuum.

I will teach her how to eat eggs.

Those are all the things I will teach her.

Diet (not-quite-derailed) update: Day 4

Quick update on the diet. Yesterday I finished off a bag of Kit-Kats for lunch. I have decided it is much easier not to eat the chocolate if I simply don't buy it at the store. So until all the candy and ice cream has been eradicated from my freezer, I am not responsible for my irresponsible consumption of sweets. Which will be soon because I also finished the container of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream after dinner last night. (Yes, AFTER dinner, not AS dinner!) Now I just have to polish off the bag of mini Reese's peanut butter cups—this should only take a couple of days—and my daily diet will be the poster child of health and wellness.

But despite the aforementioned caloric setbacks, I have been keeping up with my green smoothies. Today is spinach-apple-banana-lime. I actually like this one better than the romaine-strawberry-banana. The lime gives it a nice kick—a kick in the fat pants!

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I will ask you if this outfit makes me look fat, and you will be honest. Even if I get pissed at the time.

I will tell you not to buy me a birthday present, and when you do, my eyes will light up. And when you don’t, I will love you even more for being true to my request.

I will watch the Yankees with you, and you will flip to American Idol during the commericials—and wait for the next commercial to click back to baseball.

I will make you Kraft mac and cheese, and you will make me potato-scallion crusted halibut with asparagus drizzled in hollandaise.

I will feed, change, tickle, bathe, teach, referee and spoil the kids all day, and you will put them to bed while I sit on the couch and veg out with a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.

I will love you because you will do what you love, even if we'll never be rich.

I will love you despite worrying about money every time the 1^st rolls around, and you will work even harder every time I write a check.

I will love you because you will put our children first.

I will love you because you will make our kids scream with hysteria every time you make a fake fart noise.

I will love you because we will be a team.

And you will love me when I am a pain in the ass.

The Green Smoothie Diet

I'm starting the first diet I've ever been on in my life. Yes, I gave birth only two months ago, but I am beyond ready to get my pre-baby body back.

Step One—old habits: I will have to abstain from eating a whole bag of mini Kit-Kats while watching Bravo's The Millionaire Matchmaker as baby sleeps on my lap. And I'll probably have to avoid eating chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and a bologna sandwiches for lunch. Or Lay's sour cream and onion chips paired with half a cantaloupe. Noticing a trend. Apparently my pregnancy cravings did not disappear with my baby tummy. Therefore, I still look like I have a baby tummy.

Step Two—new diet: Integrate one quart of green smoothies into my day. Green smoothie, you say? Basically it is drinking a fruit and lettuce salad. The premise is that most people are seriously delinquent in eating green vegetables, particularly leafy vegetables, which boast super vitamins and minerals and low calories. I know I fall into that category. So instead of eating 800 calories of Kit-Kats (as satisfying as that is), I will drink my greens.

This week's concoction: 1/2 head of romaine, one cup of strawberries, two bananas and two cups of water. This makes one quart, which you should drink in one day, every day. The fibrous texture was a little odd to start with, but since I like salad, the smoothie itself is pretty tasty.

Next week (since you are supposed to vary the type of greens on a weekly basis): 1/2 bunch spinach, four apples, 1/2 lime with peel, one banana, and two cups water. Yields one quart. Drink every day.

Another twist to the diet—it was Hubby's idea. Not for me to lose weight, but he was the one that wanted to start the diet himself. So we're going to do it together.

Eventually I'll have to start exercising, but that is a blog for another day.

Quirky Cavan

Since I am no longer able to update the blog on a consistent basis, I will just have to give you the highlights.

**Cavan is now able to dress herself. When I take a shower she gets dressed in her room. This allows her enough time to practice getting her clothes on without relying on me to help. In addition, it gives me a respite from my own frustration in watching her struggle with finding the arm holes and I get to shower alone. What a treat. But, if I don't lay out her clothes for her, we get some interesting concoctions. Here is an especially fashionable choice: blue shirt, pink tie-dyed skirt, Dora knee pads, green Mardi Gras beads, gray socks with pink puppy dogs, and pink shoes. Funny, the knee pads really connect the blue in the shirt to the pink in the skirt and shoes. She must have an eye for couture.

**Cavan came up to me last week and said, "Mommy, when I get bigger I want to be a mommy just like you." Can you visualize my heart melting?

**When Cavan wakes up in the morning, she comes into my room to wake me up. For the previous four mornings, she has brought in two of her stuffed animals and she says, "Mommy, I brought presents. Here's one for you and here's one for Emma." She is so delicious in the morning—it is my favorite time to spend with her. (Skip to an hour and a half later when the not listening starts). In addition, this morning she climbed in my bed so stealthily, I didn't here her. I was awoken to a little whisper in my ear, "Sweetheart...sweetheart. Open your eyes. Open your eyes honey." Sweetheart is right. A perfect way to wake up.

**We have a sliding glass door and for security there is a bar that slides down into the track to reinforce the lock. I asked Cavan to pick up the bar the other day and she kept dropping it. On about the third try and subsequent fumble she exclaims, "Damn stick!" I said, "Cavan, say SILLY stick instead." She does and I think that's the end of it. Then last night, she was playing Go-FISH with her cousins and her cards kept falling off the table. She exclaims again, "Damn cards!" Her cousins looked shocked, started giggling and told me "Cavan said a bad word." Obviously someone in our house gets frustrated often, and I don't think its me (though I will be paying closer attention to what I am saying.) But the English teacher in me is proud that she is cursing in the correct context! Way to use your adjectives!

Melancholy mom

This was the first week of school. Not for my kiddos, obviously, but for my husband, a teacher. It would have been the first week of school for me too, if I was going back to work. The week to meet my students, to reconnect with my colleagues after our summer vacations. The week to feel productive and intelligent again.

But instead, the scope of my productivity now lies somewhere between doing the dishes and laundry, vacuuming and washing the floor, walking the dog, and constantly picking up toys. Oh and attending to the every need of the kiddos.

My new daily routine: Wake up around 8:30 with the kids. Go upstairs for Cavan's one cartoon and a sippy while I make myself coffee. (Note: I do not like coffee, but unfortunately it is necessary for survival after waking up five times through the wee hours.) Then breakfast. Eggs or oatmeal. Cavan's choice. Then shower time. Emma chills in the swing we have in the bathroom. Then back upstairs to read books and practice our letters. (Cavan is learning how to write and draw). Unfortunately, I have to bribe Cavan with another cartoon to practice her letters, so then comes the second cartoon of the day, during which I make some lunch. After lunch, we go for our daily walk, assuming the weather is cooperating. Upon return, we might play on the swing set, or just go inside for another sippy and a nap. It is now between 2-3:30. Cavan usually sleeps for two or three hours—yes, I know I am blessed with a child that both sleeps till 8:30 AND naps in the afternoon—during which I try to get some cleaning done. That is, if I don't take a nap myself, which all depends on Emma. Six or 6:30—Cavan wakes up. Sippy + supper. Hopefully Daddy gets home by 7:00, though lately he has been delayed. Since Cavan naps, she also doesn't go to bed until about 9:30, so Daddy and I get an hour of couch time before we head down to bed. Of course, don't forget about the six-week-old hanging off my boob all day or riding in my Baby Bjorn or Moby wrap. Sometimes she will sleep in the swing, but on a whole, she likes to be held.

Don't get me wrong, I would not have it any other way. I do want to be home to raise my kids. There is nothing better than seeing the excitement in Cavan's face when she writes the letter A for the first time. And sitting on the couch during Cavan's nap with Emma snuggling into my chest is pure peace. But my brain is feeling left out. I feel like I'm not contributing, though I know I'm doing the most important job in the family. I loved my career and my colleagues. I have worked since I was 15. I feel like I have just given up a piece of me, but at the same time, there is nothing I love more than being a mom. This stay-at-homing is a melancholy transition.

Cavan's Critters: Fred, Charlie, and friends

Cavan has made some interesting friends as of late—critters from the animal kingdom. She has always liked creatures—last year she carried around a dead cicada for a month, as a pet. I finally had to throw it away after its wings and legs all fell off. About a month ago after a rain, she found a giant slug outside on our deck. The slug was about four inches long—brown with black spots. My sister was in town visiting, and she encouraged Cavan to name the slug, which earned the moniker Charlie. They started a silly conversation discussing why slugs don't need to sleep with blankets. The answer: because they are slimy and because they have spots. Duh! Doesn't everyone know that?

Then a week or so ago, I went into Cavan's bedroom to wake her up from her nap. As I was sitting on her bed, I saw a piece of black yarn curled on the floor. When I approached the yarn, it started to slither away! It was a baby snake—black with a white ring around its neck. I had no idea what kind it was, but it was only about four inches long and the diameter of, yes, a piece of yarn, so there was no need to panic. I called Hubby and he came down with a cup and scooped it up. Cavan was so excited. Upon research, we found out it was a Northern Ringneck, a completely harmless and beneficial snake to have around, so Cavan carried the cup out to the garden so Fred, as she named him, could "find his family" amongst the marigolds.

Some people, I'm sure, would have flipped out finding a snake in their bedroom, but a) I am not scared of snakes, especially ones smaller than the earthworms in my garden, and b) Cavan will react as I react, so I didn't want to instill fear in her. She is so curious about everything—I want to encourage that, not squash it, as some people would have done to the snake.

Finally, Cavan now has three butterflies as pets. She got a butterfly garden from a friend—a kit that includes baby caterpillars, caterpillar food, and a butterfly habitat. You watch the caterpillars grow, build their chrysalis, and then hatch as butterflies. Then you feed them for however long you want to keep them and then release them outside. The whole process takes about three weeks, and Cavan's caterpillars hatched a few days ago. We have been feeding them watermelon. The only problem with keeping butterflies is that our cat occasionally swats at them, causing the habitat to take a tumble. I have a feeling that the butterflies will earn their freedom very soon.

Funny mispronunciations

Cavan has a few funny mispronunciations.

Sculpture = sculp-scur
Weasel (as in Pop Goes the Weasel) = Pop Goes the Weeze-gulls
Knife = Ife
Easter (as in Easter bunny) = Beaster bunny
Acorn = Air-corn

Half the time I don't want to correct her because it is too cute.