This Post is Rated PG-13 for Language

So some of you may want proof that my babies are indeed geniuses. When Autumn was 15 months old she spelled her first word. (see below)



{STD}

Lorelai has followed in her big sisters footsteps:

{Shat}

Jealous?

Lorelai's Birthday

My second daughter, Lorelai, just celebrated her 6th birthday this past week. I think my friends would agree when I describe her as magical. (This should not be confused with Charlie Sheen's self-description of being from another terrestrial realm.) I'm almost certain she is an angel sent from heaven to study the human race...and maybe to share a little light from above? She seems mystified of the world around her, and likewise, she mystifies me. Even her speech pattern is eccentric. For example, the other morning Matt said that there wasn't a lot of Honey Puff cereal left. Lorelai asked, "is there enough for a human?"

Don't get me wrong. The last six years have NOT been magical. She spent the first 2 years of life miserable in her skin. She cried a lot. At one point her pediatrician asked me if I liked her (as she sat wailing in my arms). That seemed like a trick question.

I came up with a game as she got older to help calm her down during those times the world felt like too much for her. I would ask her, "What am I going to do with you? Am I going to sprinkle you with water and grow you like a flower?" or "Am I going to put a ribbon on your head and stick you under the Christmas tree?" This silly game would replace her meltdown with bubbly laughter. However, in the hands of the wrong person, bubbly laughter might not be achieved. One night, my husband was on his own for managing one of her meltdowns. He decided to employ my tactic. But his execution left something to be desired. "What am I going to do with you? Am I going to put you in a pot and cook you like soup on the stove?"..."Am I going to stick you in the oven and cook you like a turkey?"...I am pretty sure she was thinking she had just stumbled into a real-life Hansel & Gretel situation. Matt quickly got a tutorial on how to play the game. 1) Do not make like you are going to cook her on the BBQ pit. 2) Do not make like you are going to cook her in the microwave. 3) Do not make like you are going to put her in the dryer. (That may seem random to you. But I saw a horrifying CSI episode where 2 kids were playing with a dryer and one of the boys ended up dying. Lorelai takes things very literally. I did not want to risk having one of my daughters Permanent Pressed.) 4) Do not make like you are going to mow or weed eat her. While Lorelai is magical, Matt is practical. I think he may have missed the spirit of the game. After learning all the "do nots" of the game, he decided he'd rather not play. Can I get an Hallelujah?!

But regardless, we made it to her 6th birthday. Here are some of my favorite Lorelai quotes:
"Christmas decorates my heart."

Lorelai, with big fat tears, asked me to "talk to God because [she] reaaaally wants to fly like a fairy".

Lorelai (referring to her newborn cousin), "Why is that breakable crying?"

Lorelai to Autumn: Let's play Simon Says. Autumn: OK, I'll be Simon. Lorelai: I'll be Says.

I love you with all my heart, LaLa. Happy 6th Birthday!

Freak of Nature

I recently had a conversation with my husband, Matt, that triggered an epiphany. He insists that he is "tall". I am nearly 5'9. For a woman, that is TALL. I tower over most of my friends...maybe even some of their husbands. And my husband is certainly taller than I am. But when I think TALL (for a man), I think 6 foot 2 or 3. Anyway, we were having one of our routine debates over his tallness. Was he actually tall or merely above average? He was adamantly pushing for "Tall". I tried for middle ground: Freakishly Above Average.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

I'm married to a genius. And we made little genius babies. I don't think at the time my husband and I got married that I fully realized how intelligent he was/is. (He's pretty good at hiding it.) One day at work he was awarded a patent. And then another. And another. Now ten years later, and 13 patents under his belt, I've got a pretty strong inkling he's not just "smart". These aren't patents that you will see at 2 am on an infomercial. They're patents that you need an encyclopedia wikipedia, to translate the jargon. I used to brag (kinda like I'm doing now), whenever we received a letter in the mail about a new patent being awarded. But then friends or family would ask what the patent was for and I couldn't tell them. It's not that I'm dumb. I'm a pretty smart cookie. I was in the top 7% of my HS graduating class. I had a decent GPA in college (better than Matt's, even!), and went on to graduate school (yeah, so did he). But the point is, I worked hard, got good grades, had a good job as a statistician with Motorola. And I've always picked things up quickly. I was confident early on in our marriage that Matt and I were on equal playing fields when it came to intelligence.  But ten years later, I've had to come to terms  with the fact that I'm an imposter.   The evidence speaks for itself...  

• {Math} I was a statistician for crying out loud! But maybe not a very good one. There might be a reason why some of you in the late nineties may have switched from Motorola to a Primeco phone. (Where my ballers at?!) But I am exceptional at Pop Culture. Final verdict...above average.
• {Science} Meh. Astronomers even goofed and called Pluto a planet. Final Verdict..above average.
• {Reading/English/Spelling} Yeah, I am pretty exceptional here. Unless I'm reading one of Matt's patents. But doesn't that go back to science? Final verdict...above average.
• {Common Sense} Check. Lots of it here. Final verdict...above average.
• {Technology} Quick Learner. I had to teach myself html while I was a statistician at Motorola (they were understaffed. layoffs and whatnot). So, technology doesn't scare me. You hear that, technology? I ain't skeered of you. Final verdict...above average.
• {Cooking} I love to cook. I love food. AND I loathe mediocre food. It will ruin my day. However. You will not find me on the Food Network. My oldest daughter once suggested that I go on the cooking competition show Chopped. My husband asked her if she thought I would win. She delicately answered, "I think she would be C-H-O-P-P-E-D." But the point is she thought I was a good enough cook to compete, but not quite good enough to win. Final verdict...above average.

Do you see a pattern here? I am freakishly above average. I can make my peace with that. I may never patent anything. I may never qualify for MENSA. But I will make you a freakishly above average meal that doesn't come out of a box, serenade you with some hip-hop or TMZ factoids, and show off my husband's patents or my daughters' latest report cards.