I am not a rocket scientist. Not even close. But I am married to one. Sort of. Actually he’s a mechatronics engineer employed by NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory, designing mechanisms to deploy satellite hardware to the tiniest fraction of a micron (definition). Somehow, by some glorious cocktail of natural talent and positive life experience, his brain works that way. Mine does not. Don’t get me wrong, I achieved good grades in school–even in math and science! But my natural affinity aligns more with words, art, and social interactions. While Jonathan is far from the stereotypical anti-social nerd type (*ahem* Sheldon), and he writes well enough author academic papers, needless to say, we’re wired a little differently. Which is wonderful.

Then along came our darling little children. Two boys, currently 3.5 and 0.75 (See what I did there? I can be scientific!) And while the younger is still TBD, I see in the older a lot of the natural tendencies that arguably served my husband well to get him where he is today. Of course, smarts are not only genetics, which brings me to my point. While I often feel massively unqualified, lacking a PhD in a STEM (Science Technology Engineering Mathematics) field, I want to give these littles a chance at becoming rocket scientists (if they want to).

So what does that look like? Good question. I don’t really know; that’s why I’m here. Because it’s not my natural inclination to explore, ask questions, experiment, be curious, research, figure things out, etc., I need a little accountability. I need a place to keep me intentionally adding a bit of STEM to this mothering gig. Who knows? Maybe we’ll end up launching some rocket babies.