The better part

Since my two weeks in Israel qualifies me to be the ward expert on that topic, I was asked to speak at Enrichment about my trip. I just finished my unedited script of things I want to remember and/or talk about in my presentation on Saturday. It is an appalling 11 pages long (with an additional 3 pages of details I wanted to be prepared with). I compared it with Danielle’s notes (around 5 pages) to enhance mine. Our summaries were very different. Where I had stockpiled on interesting facts from Wikipedia, she had summarized with sweet, spiritual observations that literally brought tears to my eyes.

For example, I left out Nain and Pool of Bethesda because I was running out of time. Danielle wrote these short entries:

- Nain

o Small, poor farming village; just like it would have been in Jesus’s time

o Church run by a hovering woman with small children

o An act of real compassion

- Pool of Bethesda

o Always been one of my favorite stories

o Bring copy of the pic

o Man there; he was following a pagan tradition, but it was all he knew; Jesus healed him based on his faith

It makes me want to rewrite my script. No one will care if I can recall all the details of why The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is considered a more authentic place than The Garden Tomb (though I do know five, if you are interested). But they would certainly care if I can help them feel the spirit of Jesus healing a faith-filled pagan, which is something that will be meaningful every time they read that account or see the amazing Carl Bloch painting.

Also, I can't help but think about how I spent a lot of time on my trip making sure to get pictures taken of me with the Dome of the Rock and me with a camel, etc. But my sister, Suzy, sent me some pictures that she has taken, and I think they are a lot more meaningful than me looking like a dork on a camel. Here's one.

Busy, busy, busy

I find it hard to not talk obsessively about potty training when I'm in the throes of it because it is so thought-, energy-, and time-consuming. These pictures should sum up our day. Just imagine this process repeated 10 times per hour.It got to the point that Sage said "Let's ask Eliza to not get on the potty again." Later Sage physically brought the potty chair to me with the (not-at-all-bad) suggestion, "Let's hide this."

Now I know who Bathroom Books are for. They're for moms who have to monitor a potty-trainee in the bathroom for hours a day. Got any favorites?

4th picture

I don't usually respond to most "taggings" from fellow bloggers or emailers. If I'm not interested enough in zodiac signs to remember my own, how can I possibly expect my readers to want to read about my zodiac sign or whether I like x-rays or ultrasounds better? Maybe I just don't like being told what to write.

However, there is one tag I've wanted to do, especially after our trip to Southern Utah last weekend with my family. And maybe the catch is that it involves pictures, which I love. The instructions to this tag are to post the fourth picture in your fourth folder and describe it. Now, if the 4th picture in the 4th folder of my 4^th folder of "My Pictures" showed me looking chubby, I would no doubt add this "tag" to the many others I have ignored. But since the fourth picture in the fourth folder of the fourth folder yields a picture I love, this tag wins a post.

Almost exactly two years ago Sage and Eliza were taking a bath and I was doing something in the kitchen. Suddenly I heard Sage admonishing 9-month-old Eliza “Don't take off your clothes!” Wondering what could possibly be going on, I rushed in, to find Eliza covered in foam letters.

It is so endearing to witness my kids really enjoying and loving each other. Sage and Eliza have a very symbiotic relationship. They contribute important things in each other's lives. I always get a little emotional when I see Sage hoisting Eliza up in the McDonald’s playplace, or when I see Eliza willingly carrying Sage’s coat and lunchbag home from Sage's preschool.

That being said, it's hard for me to see Sage and Eliza fight. Our 3 ½ hour car trip home yesterday consisted of a lot of that. We had all three kids packed into the back seat of our little Subaru with Eliza in the middle (due to Lily’s tortocolis and Sage’s booster seat restrictions). At any given 10-minute window, had you listened in on our conversations, you would have heard a variation on this phrase:

“Eliza, stop ______ (touching Sage, putting your feet on Lily’s face, pulling Sage’s hair, waking up Lily, stealing Sage's blanket,...) or you ____ (won’t get cheetos/dessert/a toy, will have to have your arms held tight, won't get to choose a movie,...).

Sage and Eliza are kind of in a fighting phase right now. I keep telling myself the phase should be over any minute now, as I issue prayers heavenward that are filled with varying degrees of hope and pessimism depending on the day. Now I understand why I recall almost all our family scripture times of my youth ending in a discussion of "no contention." It is difficult and exhausting to try to keep up with the prophets’ admonition that “ye will not suffer your children that they...fight and quarrel one with another.” (Mosiah 4:14), especially in car trips. If I’m not feeding Lily when a fight breaks out, I often find myself without energy or even ideas as to how to best solve the current battle. It can be a discouraging war against the natural man.

But it’s pictures like this tub episode with Sage and Eliza that remind me that the "no contention" goal IS worth working towards, and maybe even talking about at every scripture time.

And in the meantime, maybe I will buy a minivan.

Bragging about Birthday Becca

If there's someone with an unlimited amount of energy, it's my sister Becca. She's a very good athlete with high rankings and placings and PRs and whatever other things you call them in all of the following activites: high jump, hurdles, track and cross-country, basketball, ultimate, marathons, triathalons, and more.

She's also an exceptional oboe player, the finest at BYU. She has perfect pitch and can maintain a note for well over a minute without breathing.

I once thought, "Once she hits puberty she'll slow down." Didn't happen. So I amended to "Once she's pregnant she'll slow down." Nope. "Once she has a newborn she'll slow down." In the last month she's proven me totally wrong on that, as well. I could say "Once she turns 90 she'll slow down, but from the way she's proven me wrong in the past, I don't dare. She is truly amazing.

I like to brag about Becca's sports and musical accomplishments, and I could tell you all about her flower arranging and hilarious sense of humor, but I want to highlight something else today on her almost 23rd birthday.


Becca is one of the most selfless people I know. She is constantly serving. She put school and work and her life on hold to fly out to help me when my most collicky baby, Eliza, was born and I was a total wreck. She has so much love for my kids, and has taken them on outing after outing. When she watches them she never sets them in front of a movie and works on her own things. She prints off pictures on the internet and they sit side-by-side and color them while Becca tells stories, provides snacks, and plays games to their hearts' content. My kids have Becca's number memorized and regularly call to leave "messages." They refuse to call marshmallows by their real name, because Becca calls them "marshey-o's." They always want to spend the night at Becca's house. She is a dang cool aunt. And an amazing sister. And really one of the neatest people you could ever know.

Here are a few pictures that capture Becca's service and love to my family and always make me feel so grateful to know Becca.

Becca and Sage feed the ducks at Notre Dame

Becca and Sage share some pool time

Becca and Sage at Lake Michigan

Becca and Sage picking blueberries

Four-wheeling. (Obviously.)

Jordan is a pretty big Dora fan, but it wasn't for him that he and Becca carved their Halloween pumpkin, but rather their 1- and 3-year old nieces that lived next door.

I think the scooter might have blown a tire after this ride.

Pregnant Becca reading to Sage

Mommy took this picture in her PJs before running back inside to be warm while Becca and Jordan made this first snow the best day of the season for Sage and Eliza.

Happy Birthday Becca (aka Commander Keen, Unis, Beevs, Becca-Beeka, Rebs, Rebie, Hot Mama, Big Nicey, etc.).

Two Step Weight Loss Plan

A few weeks ago my sister-in-law introduced a “Biggest Loser” challenge to the extended Williams family beginning now and concluding at the family reunion in May. At first I thought her timing was a little heartless, since I know she knows about the Costco size bag of chocolate chips I gave Mark (and by extension, myself!...I know, sneaky!) for V-day. But when I realized she was willing to give up all carbs, I figured I can do my part and lay off the chocolate a few times a day. Or week. Or at least for Lent.

In the past two weeks, I have discovered two ingenious inventions that have contributed to my ability to bypass chocolate in all its glorious forms. I discovered the first the weekend of Mark’s dad’s wedding when Mark and I decided to make 6 dozen chocolate chip cookies. We bought every ingredient beforehand, knowing that Mark’s dad likely had a year supply of Adams PB and almonds, but no vanilla or baking soda. (We were right.) There was one thing that I hadn’t counted on, though. A non-Kitchen Aid mixer.

I admit it. I can’t live without my Kitchen Aid and Mark. And my Kitchen Aid. And my kids. And my Kitchen Aid. And it was clear that mass chocolate chip cookie making was a bad idea without the KA. The kitchen was equipped with one of the most annoying mixers of all time. While mixing up the wet ingredients, the beaters fell out of their hole into the mixture at least 4 times. When I was ready to pour the dry ingredients into the wet ones Mark stopped me and said, “You can’t put all of that in there. It will clog the beaters and they’ll stop working.” I put about half the flour mixture in, and then decided I would at least let the mixer distribute the chocolate chips evenly before I had to start kneading the cookie dough by hand. Once again Mark stopped me. “The beaters aren’t strong enough for those. You have to mix those in by hand.” No wonder I had to teach Mark how great cookies are when we got married.

I found the biggest bread board around and poured out all the goopy dough (6 dozen cookies was looking very excessive now) and began to literally knead in cups of flour and chocolate chips. The end result was some pretty dang good cookies, but I know I’d think twice before volunteering to make even a dozen cookies with that breadboard/mixer combination again.

Which brings us to invention #1 for dieters. Trade in your beautiful Kitchen Aid for a ridiculous mixer. Maybe one so flimsy you’d have to beat eggs by hand. That should temper your interest in baking, or at least make you think twice before you begin.

Invention #2: The Easy Lose Weight Oven. Never heard of it? Well, you might recognize it by its more common name, The Easy Bake Oven.

In spite of my sweets fast, we’ve been doing a ton of baking around here, thanks to a neighbor who bought us an Easy Bake Oven ($3 on craigslist). She brought it over Saturday night, and since then we’ve made 5 cakes and one pizza. And all fifteen bites of these baked goods were consumed within minutes of being pulled out of that plastic oven. Consider this, you dieters. If you trade in your real oven for a tiny, pink light-bulb-powered variety, getting those three bites of cake will require 15 minutes of preheating, 10 minutes of baking, and 10 minutes of cooling. Not to mention the cake is now made with three tablespoons of cake mix and one tablespoon of milk. Tasty, tasty. It’s hard to get fat off that. Unless you have a four-year-old that wants to make something every other hour and keeps plugging the dang oven in. But I think that’s just me.

So, equipped with a terrible mixer and a tiny plastic oven, even YOU (aka me) can be the Biggest Loser. And come May I’ll go back to making sure Mark’s V-day present doesn’t feel neglected. Big oven style.

A hefty price

Mark’s dad got married last weekend. My older sister, Krista, accepted my plea to keep Sage and Eliza (bless her), since we would be driving twenty-four hours over three days.

I tried to think of some form of compensation that would be worth her efforts. We tried offering payment or hockey tickets or future babysitting for her little angel baby. She graciously refused everything, except some oreo truffles I made before leaving.

Mark and I had a great time. We felt like newlyweds on the car trip—with a sleeping newborn in the backseat and plenty of time to not listen to episodes of Dora the Explorer, dole out snacks and sippy cups, or pull over for another poopy diaper change. We only stopped when Lily’s tummy or the gas tank were nearing empty, and we made it to our destination within a half hour of Mapquest’s prediction. Amazing! It was such a successful trip we began making plans to leave the kids with Krista regularly, like every other weekend or so. (ha ha)

It wasn’t until the day after our trip, though, that I came to recognize the price I paid for Krista’s services.

First, I’ve lost my power to control Sage’s hairdos. Since Krista gave her an old white plastic headband, Sage wants nothing else in her hair. I guess I deserve this, since my own hair obsessions as a child are somewhat infamous.

Second, I’ve lost my right to privacy. Krista reported that one day when she came out of the shower wrapped in a towel, Sage informed her that I usually wear a towel on my head and nothing on my body. Thank you so much, Sage.

And, for the record, I have only done this twice in my life. Clearly it made an unfortunate impression. On Sage and Krista--who laughed her head off as she recounted Sage’s pronouncement. (Sorry for any mental pictures. I told you--no privacy.)

Third, I’ve given up my chance at sanity. Krista regifted a SpongeBob talking Valentine to Sage and Eliza. Naturally it has become their favorite toy, in spite of the inscription clearly stating that it was a gift from Grandma Robins to Krista. Every time they open it (which was about 15 times a minute during my attempted naptime today), it blares out cheerfully, “Happy Valentines Day, Bikini Bottom.”

Now I know nothing about Sponge Bob other than that he apparently has a friend named Bikini Bottom (which is actually a starfish wearing shorts??). Obviously my girls know as little as I, because Sage walked around the house today chanting “Happy Valentines Day Bikini Bottle” and Eliza started her own chorus of “Happy Valentines Day Akini A bottom.”

Fourth, I’ve given up my chance of being the coolest adult in the Wilson family in my girls’ eyes. From trips to the Bean Museum, walks around the block, visits to Bryce’s grandma's toy room, an infinite number of rounds of “Guess Who” and plenty of sugary cereal options in the morning, the truth is, Sage and Eliza were spoiled by Krista and Bryce. And they loved it.

The Pretty Pretty Princesses

Who is that stuffed donkey, you ask?

Can't you tell by his crazed expression that he and all his friends just got their ears pierced by a 4-year-old? Apparently Sage used a bunch of Krista's extra earrings to pierce all the stuffed animals' ears.

As you can see, I am paying a hefty price for Krista’s services. I just hope I can remember to try to muster up the energy to be as great an aunt to my nieces and nephews as Krista and Bryce are to my girls. And I hope that when the time comes, I’ll be able to return the favor. Until then, I’ll be saving (hiding) that SpongeBob card in a very special place.