McDonald's, French Fries, and God

"Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." Matthew 19:14

The other day Annessa and I were at McDonald's (I know, not the most healthy choice, but what am I supposed to do with an almost-3-year-old after 3 straight days of rain? Oh, and did I mention we live an an APARTMENT so there is no basement to send her to so she can run off her energy...)

ANYWAY, back to McDonald's. Annessa had just finished her chicken nuggets and fries so I told her she could go play in the playland (hey, I least I insist that she eats the junk BEFORE she plays...). ANYWAY, back to my story.

I'm sitting at a table, talking to a friend when I hear Annessa talking to a little boy. "Do you go to church?" She asks as they trade happymeal toys (side note: nice sharing Ness!)

"No," says the boy.

"I go to church. I learn about Jesus. You can learn about Jesus too."

Are you kidding me??? Did my little almost-3-year-old just MINISTER to a little boy at McDonald's??! Amazing. Maybe if we could all be like kids, life on earth would be sweeter.

Oh, and God, if you could help me make the switch from fries to apple slices, that would be great....

You and Me

Dear Annessa,

We just had one of the best days! I am so mad that I didn't take pictures of it (I was afraid my camera would get ruined by the sand) so I decided to document it by writing it down.

I took you to Winneconne - but not just to Mummie's house. I showed you the Winneconne I knew as a girl. We went to Marble park and had a picnic while we waited for the beach to open. You had no interest in the hot dog, yogurt, and grapes I packed. you were just so happy to play on the play ground toys (I think you are missing your swing set while we're at the apartment).

Then, we went into the beach, and to my surprise, NOTHING has changed. They still rotate the lifeguards the same way, the workers still color a name tag for their baskets in the break room, and they still hand-write out the numbers and the names for the pass list. But ANYWAY, about us....We spent the afternoon crawling in the water on our tummies, building a little city in the sand (you built a church and I built a school), jumping off the dock, me swinging you around in the water, and eating Popsicles on our towel while we watched kids swim. It was absolutely perfect.

Then, to top it all off, we ended the day with ice cream at The Well (my very first place of employment...). We sat at the picnic table closest to the road and watched the cars drive by.

In all my years sitting at the life guard stand, I always watched the moms and their kids. Today, I was one of those moms, and you, my precious you, were my kid.

I love you,
Mom

Joy

(An oldie but goodie)

Little things that gave me joy today....

• smelling the star-gazer lilies that Rich got me when I walked in the door after a long day
  
• big purses that I can stick everything in from my chap-stick to a 160z bottle of Dew
• my black hat that hides the fact that I didn't wash my hair today so that I could sleep an extra 15 minutes
  
• Annessa stopping in the middle of the stairs to tell me she loves me
• reconnecting with a friend
• a compliment from a co-worker
• a soft serve ice cream cone
• being bare foot
• the seasonal gas-station-coffee flavor: s'mores!
• seeing Annessa jump up and down when I pulled into her sitter's driveway
• watching Annessa make two new friends
  
• learning something new that will make me a better teacher and reading specialist
• being able to help someone "get it"
• listening to Annessa read
• a back rub from Rich
• manicotti that tastes even better the second day
• taking a walk with Rich and Annessa to see the geese
• talking on the phone to my mom
  

Ex's

I've come to the conclusion that moving is a bit like breaking up with a boyfriend. Let me explain. When you break up with a boyfriend, it is always bitter sweet. There is a part of you that knows it's time to move on - the are more fish in the sea and all that. Yet, there is a part of you that is afraid to let go of the comfortable - the KNOWN.

That is how I felt moving out of our house on Cumberland Drive. I knew it was time to move on. We were bursting at the seams - either Rich was going to have to get rid of some fishing gear, or I was going to have to sell some purses (and we both knew that was Not Happening). Or maybe I could have issued ban on new toys (yeah, right. Have you met my mother?) Yes, our new house will have more closet space. And a toy room.

But, on the other hand, what if we look back at Cumberland and realize that life was so much simpler there? What if our neighbors don't laugh at Rich's dumb jokes like Jack and Gretchyn did? What if I can't find a new grocery store I like? What if the new house never feels like home?

When I was cleaning the house, erasing any evidence that our family had lived there for close to seven years, I noticed a little hand print on the wall. Normally, I would be annoyed. But not that day. Tears welled up in my eyes. I hesitated.... Annessa won't be making hand prints here anymore....

I dipped my rag into the bucket and erased the hand print so that the new family could start fresh.

The Itsy Bitsy Fider

She's been wearing this over her clothes for the past week. Rich is convinced that this is strange - "She can't go to the grocery store dressed like that!" My response: "When else in your life can you go to the grocery store in your mom's old dance costume??" The joys of being little!

I am so blessed to have family watching Annessa while I am at school. My mom and my aunt give her experiences that are uniquely special. Experiences that would never even cross my mind. Case In Point: The "Fider."

I came home from work the other day (to my favorite part of the whole entire day - the part where Annessa screams, "Mama! Mama!" Then she always asks - and this is so adorable- "Mama, how was school?") to find find Ness and Linda in the bathroom. Since we are potty training, I thought nothing of it.

"Mama," Ness says as she points to the ceiling. "Look - there's a fider!"

"Oh no - I'll get it!" I said reaching for a tissue.

"Mama - NOOOOO! That's my fider. Her name is Charlotte." Annessa explained with a very serious look on her face.

See what I mean about unique experiences? Now I've had a "fider" living in my bathroom for the last week....

Wildflowers

Last week I received some bad news - My lining is still too thin (thanks to prescription errors that my old doctor made) and Rich and I were not able to have the IUI procedure done. Our options are to wait 6 months to a year so that my lining can regenerate, or to take some really fancy, expensive fertility drugs (did I mention that there is a 30% chance of multiples?) (Oh, and that the drugs are shots I would have to give myself in the stomach??). I completely fell apart in the parking lot.



On the way home, Rich and I saw some people doing a controlled burn in the field near our house. I asked Rich why they did that - "to get rid of the weeds?"



"No, they set fire to the field so the wildflowers keep coming back."



Hmmm - Now there's a metaphor for life that hit me smack dab in the face.... It got me thinking. God allows the fires in our lives in order to make the flowers bloom. He wants me to walk through the flames in order to grow stronger, more heat resistant. Walking through the heat will test my maturity, my patience, my faith. And in the end, I know His plan will be fulfilled.



It reminds me of the lyrics in one of my favorite songs, "If all of these trails bring me closer to you, I will walk through the fire if you want me to." And I will - I will keep walking. Keep looking ahead. Because I know that my Father has planted the most gorgeous field of wildflowers just for me.

Simple Things

Because this is a sappy post that I cried my way through, I am including a happy, silly, lovely picture of Ness and our godson Cooper.

Our life is changing. Tuesday night we got a call from the realtor - "There's an offer on your house!" Rich grabbed me immediately and spun me around. We went through the motions (and I have to say, growing up with a realtor sure makes this a whole lot more understandable).

As Rich and I were getting ready for bed, his eyes met mine in the bathroom mirror. "You don't seem very excited," he commented. I tried to explain to him that I AM excited. I can't wait to for Annessa to be able to step out of our back door and into the woods. I can't wait to sit by the creek and teach her how to skip stones (well, technically Rich would have to teach ME first, but that's besides the point).





But there is a part of me that is really, really sad. This is our first home. This is were I made my first batch of banana bread, this is where we brought Annessa home, and now the next baby (if there ever is one, and God please let there be one) will come home to a different house. This is where Rich and Craig built Annessa's tree house. Where Rich first learned how to shoot a bow in our basement, Where I first learned how NOT to make meatloaf. Where we had our first Steif family dance party. Where we took Annessa trick-or-treating for the first time, where we had her "Welcome to the World Party."

Where I learned how to be a wife. Where I learned how to be a mom. Where I learned how to be myself. This is the place where I fell in love with my life.





It's bittersweet - the turning of a page, the start of a new chapter. However you want to phrase it, it comes down to this: change is bittersweet.