Rectangles are not squares

Every parent thinks his or her child is a super genius, but we all know this just isn't true. We can't help it. We're parents. It's our job to think our kids are the best and smartest at everything.

But I would be lying if I didn't admit that Kassidy is one super smart cookie.

Why can I be so sure?

Because only my poor daughter has ultra-perfectionist parents. Yep, even Brady is way more of a super smart perfectionist than he appeared to be in high school. He tells me that was all an act.

So when my students would gripe that I was a hard teacher, I would tell them to be glad I wasn't their Mom.

Because Kassidy, well poor Kassidy has been taught that roosters and chickens are different animals that make different sounds, that a goat and a sheep say different things, and that light green is actually different from green. And light urple is just funny.

But my absolute favorite is what her perfectionist Daddy taught her. That a rectangle is not a square, and an oval is not a circle. And to our amazement, Kassidy actually knows all this.

Amazing.

My recently turned 2-year-old counts to 10, knows most of her ABCs, knows about 50 animals and their sounds, knows at least 10 colors, points out all body parts, knows about 10 shapes and symbols, understands opposites, gives Massey commands, and picks up and sings almost any song she hears (her current favorite is a nice little tune by Mumford and Sons).

I think this genius child is the result of a game we've developed where we draw chalk shapes and symbols on the back porch of the barn, call out a shape, and have her step from one to the other, stopping also to point out color, sound or any other interesting tidbits.

I have to think that we're on to something.

Next up - rhombus.

Mother/daughter shopping trip

Last week I loaded my munchkin in the truck and headed to town for the day. 

I was seeing what it felt like to be a stay-at-home mommy and getting out of Brady's hair so that he could do manly things like weed eat and round up fence lines.

Double win.

I also wanted the chance to stop in and visit one of my favorite Aggie professors who would be in Namibia for a month by week's end.

So like every other trip into town, I packed quickly and efficiently for the 35-40 minute drive, knowing I'd be away from the house for 5-6 hours or so.

Diapers. Check. Milk. Check. Extra clothes. Nah. Kassidy stays fairly clean nowadays.

Boy was I wrong.

I forgot that trying to park on campus was harder than giving birth. And I should know.

After circling around West campus and completing a handful of U-turns, I heard the gag from the backseat.

Stupid sugary fruit loops for breakfast.

No problem. I've cleaned a gross child before.

But usually I have a change of cloths. Super Mom fail.

I do the best I can with a handful of wipes, show off my adorable and very stinky child to an office of professors, and quickly haul butt to Freebirds for lunch, where my still adorable and very stinky child decides she's upset she can't unwrap her burrito all by herself, so she proceeds to fling it across the restaurant, only to remain upset because she still wanted to eat her burrito.

So I did the only rational thing I could do; I scooped the refried beans and cheese back in the tortilla and handed it back to Miss Tantrum. I'm sure she's eaten worse in her lifetime.

And once we were finished, I treated Kassidy to a new $9 outfit at Old Navy. Because when you forget to pack extra clothes for a trip into town and your child pukes on herself, your only option is to go on an impromptu shopping trip.

But what really amazed me was when we finally got home and Brady took a double take at his daughter and asked, "Is that a new outfit you bought Kassidy?"

Who says men don't notice things? Mine usually doesn't, but for whatever reason he has a keen eye for new additions to Kassidy's wardrobe.

So then I had to tell him the story.

And then he had to rub in the fact that I should've packed extra clothes.

Awwww Man

Ever since Kassidy could hold her head up, we've tried establishing our bedtime routine.

It goes something like this:

Bath time

Chase naked baby around the house time

PJ time

Comb out tangles time

Mommy/daughter snuggle time

Milk time

Story time

Prayer time

Good night kisses time

And finally off to bed time!

And from the beginning, after we finish reading our book, we fold Kassidy's hands, bow our heads, and say our good-night prayer together as a family, ending with a very loud, and very proud, A-men.

And Kassidy's favorite part is the very loud, very drawn-out A-men.

Until the other night, when she enthusiastically waved her folded hands out in front of her, scrunched her little nose, and very loudly and proudly said

Awwww Man.

Sorry God, that's just Kassidy.

The same Kassidy that also likes to run away from her Mommy after bath time so she can cook in the nude.

I live with a leprechaun

So this post is for my new friend Bill. Bill stumbled upon my blog just the other day, started reading, and stayed hooked on my awesome humor for about an hour.

And then he told me this.

Kudos to how you and your husband get the most out of every moment.

And Bill's right. No matter how crazy or stressful our lives may get, finding joy in the small things and making those simple moments a memory to last a lifetime is a blessing. 

And Bill telling me this reminded me that I missed blogging (the past few months have been hectic to say the least). Because my blog is a reminder of how I want to live every moment of my life. And how even the smallest moments may be ones you'll never want to forget.

So thank you Bill for reminding me this.

So after more than four months on hiatus, I'll leave you with this.

I live with a leprechaun.

You know how every time you dry a load of socks, and there always seems to be one lonely sock left at the end, and we blame it on the damn leprechauns?

I found the leprechaun. She's about 31 inches tall, blonde hair and full of personality.

Because while on a hunt for my missing bra, I found these instead.

My missing flip flops.

Unfortunately, my bra is still MIA.

I blame the leprechaun.

Privacy

Today I found myself locked in a itty bitty bathroom with a 55 lb. dog and a 26 lb. child.

This was not by choice.

All I wanted to do was go to the bathroom like any normal person ever wants to do.

But before I knew it, there I was, sitting on the toilet, dog's head resting comfortably on my lap as my child tries to crawl into it as well.

And I couldn't even call for help because Kassidy was smart enough to shut the door behind her, meaning that Daddy couldn't hear me.

So, I did what any resourceful Mom would do. I finished my business, trying not to accidentally elbow my guests in the process, put on my big girl pants (literally), moved Kassidy to one hip to wash my hands, petted Massey on the head, and opened the door to freedom.

And I won't lie. I was a tad impressed with myself in the process.

Just call me Martha Stewart: DIY Rustic Christmas Stocking

I have been officially sewing since January, and by officially, I mean that I have sewn a Pebbles costume for Kassidy for Halloween, two taggies for two very well-deserving little babies, and finally — Kassidy's Christmas stocking!

I won't even tell you that every time I approach a new sewing project, I usually have to sew at least one, sometimes two, practice projects first. Okay, I guess I will tell you. Because it's too funny not to.

Just ask Kassidy how her first Pebbles costume fit. Because, well, it didn't.

And Brady forced it over her head anyway. Poor baby. We had to literally cut her out of it. And limit her food intake in the process.

Nevertheless, as soon as Kassidy was born last July, I knew that I wanted to make her Christmas stocking, because I am a snob when it comes to Christmas decorations. And because I can never find exactly what I am wanting. And it's stupid to spend $50 on a stocking that I am not 100% in love with.

Too bad I was too hormonal and inept last Christmas to get her stocking made in time, but this year, I had no excuses. After thinking about making it since the first of this year, I finally sat down to make it about a month ago, and after only screwing up the first weekend of work, I quickly found my groove and produced this.

Not too shabby, huh?

So that you don't give me more credit than I deserve, I bought the burlap stocking with jingle bells at a discounted price from Old Bryan Marketplace last Christmas, so I did not have to make the actual stocking. But I did sew the patches, cuff, insert and add all the bling, so for that, you can give me credit.

In case any of you are curious how this beginner actually pulled this off, here's the step-by-step process.

First, I traced, cut and sewed the stocking insert. I used a khaki-colored fabric.

Then, I traced, cut and sewed the patches for my stocking using a red and white plaid fabric.

I used a red rose-patterned fabric to make my cuff.

Which I then hand sewed onto my stocking insert.

I used green embroidery thread to attach my patches to my burlap stocking.

Once my patches were on, and my stocking insert was stuffed into my stocking, I made a bow out of green velvet ribbon and sewed it to the edge of the cuff, adding a metal K button with some hot glue.

I also added conchos because I like conchos.

And then I hung Kassidy's stocking on the mantle with her Mommy's and Daddy's stockings (that were not sewn by me).

See how well they coordinate?

Just remember. If I can do this, anyone can. Anyone.

A vintage Christmas

I know that all of you who normally receive my awesome Christmas cards in the mail are heartbroken this year, but in order to make sure I stay on budget even through the holidays, I am sharing my card electronically with all of my Internet-savvy friends and family.

Next year, things will return to normal. Promise.

Why, you ask? Because starting in January, I will be returning to what I love best — as Marketing and Communications Director with the City of Bryan.

I'm very excited about this opportunity and cannot wait to return to what I am meant to do with my life.

Teaching has been an awesome experience, and I will miss my kiddos, especially the ones that say that dardnest things, but communications and marketing is where I belong.

So until next year, you'll just have to enjoy my Christmas card via my blog.

And look forward to snail mail in 2013.

Sophomores say the dardnest things

I've heard plenty of crazy comments from my kiddos over the past 12 weeks, so I've tried to remember a few of my favorites just for you.

These actual conversations with 15 year olds should make you smile. And hope that you never have a 15 year old.

Makeup leads to babies

At a home football game a few weeks back, I had the wonderful opportunity to hang out with some of my kids from class. They are all obsessed with Kassidy, and I had promised them during the day that I would make sure they got to hold her at the game. Fast forward to game time, in which one of my male students decides that Kassidy is the cutest baby he's ever seen. As I'm responding to comments about how pretty her eyes are, I happen to say that when she's a teenager, she shouldn't need to wear a lot of mascara because her eyelashes are so long.

And then my favorite male student, while holding Kassidy, looks right at me, directly in the eyes, and says:

"Makeup leads to gawking, gawking leads to kissing, and kissing leads to more babies, and we can't have any of that."

And then he adds that he wants to have a baby right then and there so his baby can date my baby.

And then I take my baby back from him and go home.

Smuggling children

Another one of my favorite Pre-AP students is begging me in class one morning to bring Kassidy to class one day so they can all play with her.

Me: "I wish I could guys, but then you would get nothing done all day."

Student: "Oh come on, Mrs. K. Bring your daughter to school one day so we can play with her. I can get her in. I'm Mexican."

Me: "What does being Mexican have to do with this conversation?"

It starts with a V

And my all-time favorite conversation took place with a student who always comes into my class and announces that he neglected to take his ADHD medication for the day. He does this a lot, so I finally ask him why he never takes his medicine.

Me: "What type of medication are you on anyway?"

Student (with a serious, thoughtful look on his face): "It starts with a V. I think it's called Vagisil?"

Me (laughing): "Sorry, son, but you're not on Vagisil."

And, what's really sad is that he never realized why I was laughing so hard.

The life of a first-year teacher

Yes, I'm alive. Promise. But in transitioning to the new job, I have realized that every day, I am more and more behind. And every day, I better get my butt moving so that I can mold the youth of America the following day.

So, I'm a little over two weeks into teaching, and I must admit that my experiences have been pretty dang interesting.

I never understood why teachers wore those lovely lanyards around their necks. I mean, they're not really a must-have accessory. But, on Day 2, after a certain teacher — ummm, Mrs. K — locked herself out of her own classroom, I quickly decided that lanyards were not only fashionable, but functional.

And, it only took less than two weeks for me to get my first poem from a student. Granted, he had gotten into trouble with the rest of the class, and he wanted me to know he was sorry and that he really liked my class, but it was a sweet poem nonetheless. And he made sure to close it with "Please don't hang this up." Ah, kids.

You wouldn't believe what gets a classroom of 15-year-olds going either. I mean, we can be reading a cuss word in Of Mice and Men, and then they can't stop laughing.

Or, during my awesome denotation/connotation lesson where we discussed word connotations and their more negative counterparts, you would think I gave each student a new car because they were allowed to use the word "slutty" compared to "promiscuous" or "druggie" compared to "substance abuser." Hey, whatever makes them remember a concept, right?

And yesterday my kids had a nice laugh when I came to school without a voice. And I still haven't gotten it back either. But I couldn't help but smile when one of them said, "Mrs. K, isn't that ironic that you lost your voice?"

"Why, yes. Yes, it is."

And then he told me my hair looked beautiful.

And then reality slapped me in the face again, and I got back to telling my kids to sit down and be quiet and work on their group activity.

All without a voice.

Matching lunch boxes would be so darn cute

As of today, the opportunity to walk into school together with my husband carrying matching lunch boxes increases exponentially.

What, you say? Oh, yes. It's true.

After seven years with Texas A&M, I am leaving. Leaving to teach a bunch of 16-year-olds in Franklin. I am about to become a sophomore English teacher, which means I am going to change the world one grammatical error at a time. Or at least try.

And I am going to make sure my students know that it's okay to begin a sentence with the word "and." And that you don't have to stick with the five-paragraph rule when writing. And I plan to post a lot (not alot) of English-related cartoons and funnies around my room. Who says you can't make learning fun?

Gosh. My poor future students have no idea how much I love my red ink. And I just bought a whole new box of red pens to get me through the year. I hope it lasts.

And Brady and I will get to carpool to school together. And eat lunch together (if we choose). Drop off and pick up Kassidy together. Heck, even work out together.

Let's hope this professional career change doesn't make my marriage end in divorce.

Or matching lunchboxes. Because that would just be ridiculous. Or would it?

And even though I've already posted my awesome good-bye video to Facebook, I actually still have some extra awesome friends (you know who you are) who starred in my awesome good-bye video that don't have Facebook accounts, so this is for you guys. I smile every time I watch it. And laugh. A lot (not alot).

12 Months with Kassidy

This time last year, I went from being a very large woman without a baby to a still semi-large woman with a baby. Oh, and a tornado. Yes, the night I had Kassidy a little twister visited our ranch.

But on to more important things. My baby is one! And the blanket she is sitting on in her 12-month picture was made by my mom just for Kassidy. It is made of some of my old dresses from when I was a baby. Pause for "ahhhs" now.

And she is such a little toot. Literally, on the day of her birthday, she decided to not only say her first word, but add three more to her vocabulary. And what I count as her first word is exact repetition of what Mommy or Daddy says and being able to identify with that word, because if I counted any babbling from my child, she would have been "talking" at two months.

So, she now continues to pull bows out of her hair and say "bow," grab a book off her shelf and say "book," finally refer to Massey as "puppy," throw a ball to Massey and say "ball," point out any duck and say "duck," and say "boo" when she hides behind a blanket and tries to scare you. Tries is the key word here. And over the last few days, she's learned "cat" for our kitties.

So, we have a talker on our hands. And a dancer. And a diver.

Yes, a diver. She's still not quite walking on her own yet. She can stand by herself and has been able to take up to about eight steps to get from one piece of furniture to the next all on her own, but she still looks like a little wobbly drunk. And she's learned that if she tries to walk from Mommy to Daddy that she can dive head first and we will catch her. So, walking is apparently a game to her. A very fun game that involves lots of diving and lots of happy screaming.

In less than a week, Drew Kennedy will be at our place for BFE, and Kassidy is beyond excited to show him her moves. She loves dancing to his music, and I'm thinking she is going to try to "help" him play guitar. I think he will be impressed. As long as she doesn't try to eat his guitar.

Kassidy Reese | 1 Year Photo Shoot

So I know I'm behind in posting pictures and updates on a lot of things, but here's some pictures of Miss Kassidy on her first birthday to tide you all over. I took these this past weekend in Franklin early in the morning. And my child was starving, so this was about all I could capture before we had to call it quits and head to the Burger Bar for breakfast.

And just for the record, I tried my hardest to keep some dang shoes on this child's feet, but she's a country girl, and she prefers to go barefoot.

Now in addition to Baby Walking Boot Camp, we are having Baby Shoe-Wearing Boot Camp.

I have learned a very important lesson for my next kid. Put shoes on them when they don't have the motor skills or attitude to take them off.

I can only blame myself on this one.

11 Months with Kassidy

The first birthday countdown has already begun. Oh my. Kassidy plans to eat a lot of sweets, play in water, play in sand, play with tissue paper, bags and boxes, and hang out with her buddies. Then she plans to pass out from all the excitement. It should be a good day.

Over the last month, Kassidy has really become the little talker. She always talked a lot to me, but now she really talks a lot. This is where I give the tube surgery credit. Less than 24 hours after the surgery she was babbling and repeating almost every sound we made. And following directions so well. And this has now been the longest we have gone without an ear infection since January.

We taught her to "bawk" like a chicken, "moo" like a cow, and I'm pretty sure she will ask for her "baba" when I tell her I'm going to make it. She says "mama" and "dada" like crazy and definitely knows who we are. We're working on getting her to say "Massey" instead of just letting out an excited shriek when Massey walks into the room. But she likes to shriek so this may be harder than it sounds. A few times she's called her bananas "nana." And then I put in the short Minion movies and let her watch the one about bananas. It's pretty funny.

Brady started Baby Walking Boot Camp once he was out for the summer, and I have to admit, it's actually working. Kassidy likes to walk behind her walker and crash it into Daddy's walker. Destructive, I know. She can actually keep pace now and doesn't just want to fall on her butt first thing to crawl around.

She eats everything! As in, this girl is going to be an expensive date one day. Why? Because she loves her Daddy's steak. Even though the little stinker eats supper before us most nights, she will beg for whatever is on my plate. Usually I have a cute little baby and a cute little puppy staring at me with little sad eyes wanting my supper. So I have to feed them. All while Brady is eating his supper in peace. When I asked him how that happened, he explained to me that my first mistake was actually feeding them. I need to put a sign on both of them that specifically states, "Do not feed the baby and the puppy." I have also been bitten on occasion.

She is obsessed with The Wiggles. O-B-S-E-S-S-E-D. Being the awesome parents that we are, Brady and I will break out into random song throughout the day, and Kassidy gets so excited, she bounces up and down, clinches her fist and raises her arms into the air. We think she's thinking, "Oh my goodness. The Wiggles are in my living room!"

We have all watched the tape so much that Brady and I find ourselves humming Wiggle songs while we are getting ready for work, hanging out on the back porch, or cooking supper. You get the idea. We are always embarrassed when we realize this and try to put on some Reckless or Radney to get those dang songs out of our head.

Oh, and I cannot forget to mention that Kassidy has officially gone swimming in her muddy pond. And she loves it. Bring on BFE. My little girl is ready. And she actually leaves her sunglasses on outside too.