Category Archives: oh so random

working my way back to now…


The “whatever” it is that has kept me from keeping up on the blog has, also, kept me from tracking some pretty cool things about my kids’ development, milestones, and adorable idiosyncrasies. The purpose of blogging, for me, is twofold . . . to share with you, and to share with me and Josh and our increasingly forgetful brains.

Is it possible to backtrack, and document a year’s worth of firsts and “oh my goodness, did you hear what your child just said” moments? Absolutely not. But, here’s to trying, and to not giving my 2nd-born any reason to think that we loved him less 😉 .

Our Zacky…

In his most intense, giddy moments, he will move his body, and flail his arms in a “dance”, resembling what one might imagine a cavemen, or the Hunchback of Notre Dame, to move like. In these moments, he will also purse his lips together and talk very “seriously” as well. He says he wants to do ballet like his sister, but I don’t see our little Quasimodo pointing his toes any time soon.

He is the messiest little booger at the dinner table. I’m certain that most of that can be contributed to typical 2-yr-old behavior. Still, daily, I am blown away at what a mess he’s capable of dishing out. What’s more humorous, is that sitting next to Mr. Tasmanian Devil, is his sister, who squirms if she gets peanut butter on her hands, and insists on eating most finger-foods with a fork.

Our little guy has started to say “I love you” on his own, and not in response to our sentiments. Its in moments when I can tell that all is right in his little toddler world . . . and usually after being handed a fresh, cold, sippy-cup of milk. He’s also very cordial, especially in the morning, to whoever comes to rescue him from his crib. “Good morning, Daddy.” “How are you?” “Oh Mommy, I like your shirt…its beautiful.”

He runs pretty fast, and rides his bikes like a maniac. He can’t peddle yet, and has no interest in trying. But he Flintstone’s his way down a hill way faster than I can keep up, and it beyond thrilled when his bike crashes into the bushes. Its official, he’s all boy . . . and we’re in for it.

Sweet boy is seriously attached to me, and I am eating up every leechy moment. For being pretty audacious, he’s also pretty sensitive. He cries whenever another little person cries, gets his feelings hurt when a toy is taken, and calls for me a lot, especially when its bedtime. Josh has made a little game of asking if he can put him to bed, knowing full well that Zack prefers for me to do it. Josh will persist and Zack will say, “Mommy read a dory . . . you put Abby to bed”. Josh will insist once more, and Zacky’s little hand will reach out and nudge (not hit) Josh, and lean in closer to me. I just smile smugly at Josh, and breathe in the smell of my little cling-on.

He loves to sing, and will still serenade us from his bedroom, sometimes, for entire naptimes. When the singing is over, he is very eager to get our attention (through his bedroom’s accordion wall) by hollering “Mom!!! Can you get me?!?!” or “I want to talk to you!”

He loves cranes (trains) and crucks (trucks) . . . so much so, that about 57 times a day, he will ask a willing family member to get down and play cars or trains with him. Thomas the Tank Engine is his very favorite TV show, followed closely by Gay Gay the Getplane (Jay Jay the Jetplane), both of which have, according to Zack, very catchy and very singable theme songs.

Zack absolutely idolizes his sister, and each night when I ask him who loves him, his first response is always, “Abby”. Most of the time I believe his sister loves him back, but she’s also smart enough to know she has him wrapped pretty tightly. She can manipulate him like Play-Doh when it comes to a toy of his that she wants. But, she really loves him so deeply, and I’m finding her more and more, genuinely concerned for his well-being. Whenever they are apart, they ask about the other, and are happiest in all the world (as in uncontrollable giggle happy) when they are chasing and wrestling each other.

Our Abby…

Is all girl. With the exception of her shameless obsession with flatulence and her bare bottom (thanks Josh), she is an emotional, tender-hearted, feminine, whimsical little girl. I am really trying to take mental pictures of this time, because the imagination of a 4-yr-old girl is like no other. In one instant, she is a monster, the next she is a baby, the next a mother . . . a grandmother . . . a kitty . . . a pirate, and so on. I’m finding that Abby has a gift of orchestrating (not to be confused with being a little bossy) her friends into games of salon, or kitties, or the classic “baby-princess” (the role of said baby-princess is usually played by Abby herself . . . of course).

She is my helper. Having the kids pretty close together hasn’t been without obvious challenges, but now she loves helping me and feeling responsible for her brother and household. She and I are trying to get into a new pattern of cleaning up her stuff (me not picking up after her so much, and she taking responsibility for her messes), and its been going so well. Now, the challenge is me taking as much pride in my bedroom as she does in hers.

After, apparently, giving it up for Lent some 2 years ago, Abby has started eating again. Our picky-as-all-get-out preschooler has been chowing down on everything in sight. Ironically, this is happening at the same time that her brother is beginning to forfeit meals for driving his cars all over the house. At least we know, now, that in 2 years, he may one day start enjoying non-processed, non-sugary foods again.

The Asthma monster has, apparently, made a home in Abby’s lungs as well. We’ve known about Zack for a while, but its become clear that neither of my kids have escaped their family heritage of poor-breathing. Abby is now doing breathing treatments daily, will begin allergy testing next week, all in hopes of avoiding another, very sick Williams’ winter. Like her brother, she’s a trooper, but we look forward to the time when we have her little system figured out so we can avoid missing preschool and playdates like we have had to.

She is almost enjoying preschool. She’s missed quite a few class days, so has only begun building relationships. But she’s getting more comfortable, and especially enjoys when the sun is shining and there’s nobody on her swing. When her daddy picks her up in the afternoon, he finds her in the same place each day . . . in her own world, swinging and singing away. She also just learned how to cross the monkey bars, a feat which she has challenged herself with for a while now. I am so proud of her. She has persevered with the monkey bars, so I know she will come to love school soon.

Abby is so grown up. Physically, she is on the tall side, which only adds to her dad’s and my angst. Then, when she says things like, “I’m just a little bit exasperated” in response to being reprimanded, a parent can’t help but cringe at how quickly this ride is going. She’s my little buddy. The other day, I was out on a pretty tough walk, and the last tiny hill to our neighborhood was killing me. Abby leaned out of the stroller, and chanted, “Go, Mommy, go!” then, “I believe in you Mommy. I know you can do it!” Then after I came to, “Look Mommy, you persevered!” I love my little cheerleader!

Both my kids have beautiful, curly hair, which on a good day, stops people in their tracks, soliciting the question “Where did they get their hair?” On a bad hair day, however, the tone of that question sounds a bit different, as the kids’ hair begins the process of dreading with 5 minutes of a bath. Abby’s hair, in particular, can be a point of contention some mornings, as brushing it out it necessary . . . and painful for both of us. I’m always shocked to hear “Ow!” come from my baby’s mouth in the same cadence that a 14-yr-old might sass her mother.

As grown-up as my baby is getting, she still loves being sung to and rocked to bed, is attached to her white “binky” like Linus, thinks that anything that occurred before the present happened “last year” and any impending event will take place after naptime, and screams her way through the dark hallway (creating a domino effect of screams between she and her brother, usually ending in tears).

Well, in a nutshell, there’s the “right now” of our little ones. Hope you enjoyed reading, and so thankful I got it all down before my silly, sleepy brain let it slip through its brain fingers.




Apparently today is a beautiful day in Seattle. Its all over my friends’ Facebook pages. I do miss Seattle days like today…the views of the cityscape, its surrounding lakes, and Mt. Rainier are probably spectacular. There is no place more beautiful than Seattle when its wearing its sunny clothes. But in my time living in that area, I came to realize that that beauty comes at a great cost…rain, gray and cold. I remember staring out of my living room window, day in and day out, from, hmmm, October to July, wondering when it was going to stop. I also remember longing for more violent storms. I figured that if it was gonna rain, it may as well be fun to watch. But those thunderstorms were few and far between. I also longed to see the massive evergreens outside my windows move and shake, in violent winds. But, the trees didn’t sway like I had wanted…more often than not they were still.

Being a Southern Californian, I hadn’t realized how much I missed wind. There’s a lot of it here. To most, its a complete nuisance, sending people running to their allergists for relief. However, to me, during weeks when the damp cold of the Pacific Northwest really got to me, I just wanted to see movement. On the rare occasion that the wind really blew, that turbulence made the world outside my living room window seem alive.

On my walk today, I was realizing how thankful I am for the wind. I was thankful for how it made the world around me appear vital and beautiful. I was thinking, too, about how turbulence, dare I say, struggle, makes life seem more vital and beautiful. Can you even imagine a life without struggle? An existence devoid of redemption, forgiveness, and healing? So many people live their lives in such a way to avoid turbulence, eliminating those hurdles that stand in the way of personal comfort. But its struggle that leads to growth, learning, understanding, and joy.

Life’s turbulence is inevitable. God, that struggle would make me uncomfortable, and move me. May turbulence motivate me, not floor me. Cultivate a vitality and strength that only comes from being present in the most violent of winds.

just so


I love my job. With all its quirks and challenges, I am still so thankful that I get to be home with my kids. I’m not always that positive about my job title, and for a time, I struggled quite a lot with not being able to bring home a paycheck and get the accolades of a “real” job. But those moments are becoming fewer and farther between. And as we are preparing to send Abby to preschool for a couple days a week in the Fall, I am seeing this precious PRECIOUS time start to dwindle. So, for the next few years, I will (I WILL!) savor the “at home” time I have with the kids.

My house will NEVER look “just so” during this time. And as much as I battle with this reality, I will never look “just so” in this period. In fact, the more I scramble to make sure all things are “just so” in my at-home mommy reality, the less time I am really “at home” and more I am stowed away in my own head…organizing the empty boxes of perfectionism.

So, my prayer for today, is that I can truly celebrate this period and give less and less attention to “just so”. Understanding that religiously throwing on my uniform (hoodie, jeans, t-shirt, flip-flops, sunglasses, and a ponytail) doesn’t necessarily mean I’m lazy. And really believing that the stains on my carpet are a beautiful symbol of what I want my home to be…a place where all people are welcome, dirty feet and all.



Abby and Zack…if I ever get this blog stuff printed out for you, there’s something you need to know about your Daddy.

There hasn’t been one night since he’s been a father, that he hasn’t tiptoed into your rooms, long after you’ve fallen asleep, to make sure you’re both ok and at peace.

You’ll love knowing this one day…


blog fog


Every day, there are about two hundred moments that I wish to blog about. Something the kids said or did, a conversation that I had with my husband or a friend, or simply some new thought or idea that stirs around in brain . . . just itching to be heard, read, or spewed out, if only for the purpose of never having to be thought about again.

Generally, I’m a quiet person, but over the last few years have come to realize that I have to express my heart, in spoken, written, or even typed words. I love to watch my world move around me, and comment on what I am seeing or experiencing. When I communicate these observations, I am healed, and my eyes are often opened to what God wants me to know about Him and His purpose.

The struggle? If I were to stop to write at the moment I have a thought or a story I want to share with the blog world, what does that communicate to my children? "Hold on sweetheart, that thing you just did was so cute . . . I must now spend the next half-hour to forty-five minutes documenting it. Oh, and can you make that face again? Cause I need to take a picture of that adorable thing you did for my latest post."

I know this is a modern day struggle, "Whoa is me . . . I have no time to blog!", but maybe this struggle is simply about not being able to find the time to capture my thoughts, and reflect on why it is that am lying on the floor, letting graham-cracker encrusted, snotty-nosed munchkins, kiss me all over my face and climb on me like a jungle gym. I am getting the feeling, from more and more moms who have waded through the murky, rapid moving waters of raising young children, that this time is the most precious time I will ever have with my kids, and possibly the most precious time I will experience as a human.

I believe this is true. And my understanding of this reality is compelling me to figure out how to allow myself the opportunity to laugh, breathe, cry, scream, sigh, and smile, alone with my thoughts, and fully present with God.

(I would love your thoughts, or the "What I Did’s" of your past. I would also love to know if you share in this struggle with me . . . please 😉 .)

new digits


So, the Williams’ got some new fancy phones, with some new fancy phone numbers.  If you try calling us at our old numbers, you won’t reach us. 😦  If you would like to contact us at our new numbers, leave a comment and we will email you the new numbers.  Talk to you soon!

a thousand words


So, while I don’t owe you an apology for my sporadic blogging, I would like to offer you picture. There are a few things you should notice, that might help to explain where I’m at:

1) Notice my less-than-full head of hair? I think my postpartum hair loss is ceasing, but whenever I try to make sense of the whole follicle situation, I’m reminded that I still "just had a baby". 

2) Which brings me to the little man towering over me. He and his sister are kinda in charge right now. While I haven’t mastered this skill perfectly, I TRY to be flexible to their needs during the day, and they don’t seem to care too much for me sitting at my computer (even though I quite enjoy it sometimes 🙂 ).

3) Just behind Zack is a wall full of picture frames that have yet to be filled. While the house is mostly put together, I have yet to put just the right pictures up. So, even WE don’t get to see pictures of ourselves.

Why is it so hard? Well, somehow weeding through close to 20,000 pictures in your iPhoto library (no exaggeration) can be overwhelming. And when your computer finally looks at you one day and says (I’m paraphrasing), "You bettter start deleting some pictures, woman . . . or else . . . muah, ha, ha, ha!", well, that just means that you’ve just added an extremely time-consuming task to your to-do this . . . which means the picture frames will remain unfilled for a while, and blogging will need to happen when it happens (even though it drives me nuts!!!)

So, there you have it. An unnecessarily long post offering an unsolicited explanation surrounding a cute picture of my toddling son.

Stay tuned for the next unnecessary post 🙂 .



That’s my bloodshot right eye. Its angry at me for 1) not closing it but for 2 hours last night, 2) for staring at a computer screen for 2 days, and 3) insisting that I blog about it at 1AM instead of finally shutting it . . . and my laptop. Well, right eye, you’re finally getting your way. Goodnight!

happy birthday baby boy


I’ll admit, your Daddy and I were a bit anxious about having another little mouth to feed, especially when we found out that mouth would belong to a little boy. But, we thank God everyday for getting to be your parents. To watch you giggle and to watch you grow. To see your fits and feel your kisses. To nourish you, tickle you, read to you, dance with you, pray with you, sing to you, and to see you develop a little more everyday. We love you, Zachary!