My grandparents are in crisis.

After 10 years of begging and pleading them to move out of their home into a retirement community, it’s finally time to pull the trigger. Anyone who knows my family knows this is a huge undertaking. My grandmother is a couple years shy of 90 and is mostly bedridden – my grandfather takes care of her full-time and we all predict that if they don’t make the move, he will be dead within a year.

My dad (who is heading up the whole process) and his three sisters are starting to go through all of their belongings, and it’s not pretty. My grandparents are moving from a four bedroom house into a two bedroom apartment, and they can only take the necessities. So attached to her “treasures,” my grandmother feels hopeless.

To make matters worse, all of this has to be done in a matter of months. The estate sale is in November, which means time is short to decide what gets divided up among the family and what ends up being sold along with the house.

This whole process has had me in a bit of a tailspin. All of this talk about stuff.

I will be the first to admit that I have a problem with it. Vann always jokes that I’m the perfect consumer. You show me a gorgeous girl in a pair of funky boots and a floaty scarf and I’m in – just tell me where to go to buy what she’s wearing. Over the years, being married to a man in the consumer business has proven interesting to me – I’ve learned a boatload about how grocery stores are designed to appeal to the mommy, what commercials play during the day to entice any woman to buy what they are selling, etc. Shoot…I’ve even been known to watch a little QVC from time to time.

But really – you can’t take it with you. In the end, you’re leaving this world the way you arrived.

Vann can tell you that I’ve really been struggling with the fact that our home improvement projects have come to a close for now. It doesn’t matter how many times other homeowners tell you that “you have all kinds of time” or “don’t worry about filling up every room,” you see all the things that need to be fixed or bought and you just drive yourself crazy.

I wanted so badly to have the guestroom and bathroom finished by Christmas. We still need breakfast room chairs and really want to paint the dining room as well. And let’s not even start on our master bath.

All of this sounds pretty selfish, doesn’t it? Remember my whole post about selfishness? Yeah, it’s rearing it’s ugly head right about now. The truth of the matter is that the coffers need to be refilled and so – big whoop.

Here’s the big question: Who really cares about all of that anyway? Will my friends be horrified when they see that only one out of four bathrooms has had the dated wallpaper replaced? Will they care that nothing is up on the walls yet and there are no window treatments??

The answer is NO. All of this plays in my head, and the devil loves it. He loves making me feel like the stuff around us is more important than anything else.

I think that this whole situation with my grandmother is incredibly timely. At 88 years old, instead of wanting her family to enjoy the things she has loved over the years, she is clinging to material things as if they are living creatures. It’s definitely a lesson for me to remember that none of this is ours anyway.

Matthew 6:19-21 says:

19″Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. 20But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

I’m a member of a few clothing message boards – what stemmed from my original love of Matilda Jane became a way to connect with other moms and talk about not only our love of boutique baby clothes but life as well. I recognize that I don’t really “know” these women, even though I have learned a great deal about motherhood from them. Never having met any of them in the flesh, we connect over that first cup of coffee in the morning – chatting about life and sharing pics of our kids.

A few weeks ago one of the ladies was posting polls for baby boy names…due in October, she settled on Cullen and was preparing for his arrival. She has three other children.

Yesterday I logged on to find out that the baby passed away on the 11th – stillborn at 34 weeks. Baby boy Cullen (her “travelling angel” she calls him). This baby she loved and carried all these months, is gone and she is left standing in the valley of her grief, “trying to walk a course that she cannot yet find”.

My heart is just unbelievably broken for this woman.

Just yesterday I was complaining to Vann about the debt we’ve accrued from moving ourselves cross-country and starting from scratch in a much bigger home – how frustrated I am that we have to be more careful with our purchases now and what a drag it is to have to budget.

I go to feed my baby girl and get frustrated because she’s not self-feeding at 10 months and I have to take extra time to sit down and help her – when I would really love to be able to throw some food down on her tray and move onto the next thing.

While this woman is grieving the loss of her child I am complaining about my lack of freedom and feeling sorry for myself.

Is it any wonder why we need Christ in our hearts? As my mom says, “You don’t have to teach children to be selfish.” You don’t have to teach adults to be selfish, either, and I think sometimes being selfish might be my job, I’m so good at it.

As I write this, Charlie is sitting at her little table eating pretzels and talking to her “friends” -a motley crew of stuffed penguins, Little Einsteins action figures and a wind-up chick she got in her Easter basket last year that has long lost it’s get-up-and-go.

Baby Ella is sleeping peacefully in her room. I have a sweet and funny husband who loves me, a beautiful roof over my head, a strong body and mind, and a soul captured by Jesus Christ. I have a giving family and renewed relationships with my brothers. I have two beautiful and precious little girls and the opportunity to stay home to raise them.

I just wanted to write myself a reminder of all of the good and powerful things in my life, in case I forget, which I’m sure I will. Because although I do feel like I have faced the great precipice of sorrow in my 32 years, today I have no reason to weep, except for this sweet woman’s great and tragic loss.

…the fact that it’s 90 degrees and it’s the middle of September. I am mourning the loss of the Chicago fall season. My favorite time of year by far, normally I would be doning a blazer or jacket or hoodie every time we leave the house. I’m also missing running down to Cafe Selmarie in my pj’s and Baylor sweatshirt to grab coffee and a treat – a tradition on Saturday mornings.

I realize that in February I will be dancing a jig and celebrating the fact that we will have a real spring and how nice that will be compared to the bitterness of the Chicago winters…but I am completely over summer and the heat and would much rather stay inside where it’s air-conditioned and comfortable. I threw on a sweatshirt this morning and Vann looked at me like I was crazy. A girl can pretend, right?

…poop. There. I said it. After 6 weeks of potty training, Charlie really is doing great with #1. We’ve had a few accidents – mostly when we both get busy doing something and I forget to keep track of when she went last.

#2 however – she has started pooping in her panties and sometimes I think she’s doing it on purpose. I’ll ask her if she needs to go – “No, I not!” – and then 5 minutes later, she’s announcing “I pooping now!” and I’m racing her into the bathroom and plugging my nose with a clothespin. I’m sorry, having poop restricted to a diaper is one thing – having to clean it off a 3 year old bottom, legs, clothing, etc. is another thing entirely. And I find it utterly disgusting. Sorry. Am I supposed to just grin and bear it? I’m not doing a very good job of it then.

I think what is the hardest for me is the smugness after the job has been done. The attitude. I don’t know if she’s doing it for attention (I know #2 takes longer to master, etc. so I’m not trying to be unsympathetic) but sometimes I swear she knows she’s about to do it and just doesn’t want to tell me. So, those are the times where I’ve turned her hiney red (as Ms. Marla would say).

…Baby Ella’s naptimes. We are a firm Babywise and Cry it Out family. We are also a firm Mommy needs a Break family. These days Baby Ella is having a very difficult time settling down for naps…so I end up checking on her (so she doesn’t stick her chubby legs through the crib slats, which she’s done a handful of times) and standing outside her door listening to her cry and ultimately either going downstairs out of earshot or turning off the monitor. I know, Bad Mommy, you’re probably thinking. Hey, Happy Mommy equals Happy Family!