I'm Over the Overstuffing.

On a whim the other day Amanda submitted Grace's photo to a Gap casting contest.  Normally we're not into those sorts of things, but we figured, "Why not? Maybe she'll be plucked from obscurity and have a little fun."  Deep down, though, I know the truth.  Grace's big break will come when A&E produces Hoarders:Toddler Edition.  Grace, at just age three, is a precocious hoarder.  Unfortunately, in this regard, she is doomed by heredity.  My grandmother is a textbook case shopaholic/hoarder, my mother epitomizes the "One person's trash is another person's treasure" mindset(In a good way; she can breathe new life into broken down furniture and junk.) and I am one of those people who likes to keep things because I "know I can use it for something".  Grace doesn't stand a chance.  Recently, she was drinking lemonade from a 20-oz. fountain cup and straw.  Upon finishing she told me we could not throw away the cup or straw because she needed them for a "project".  She proceeded to explain how she would cut them, fold them, glue them and cover them with glitter, with the end result being a house.  Creative, yes, but Grace seems to have also inherited my procrastinator gene; the cup house sits unfinished on the counter instead of in the garbage where it belongs.

If Amanda and I aren't careful, we will raise a true bag lady.  Grace already loads her toy shopping cart with junk and pushes it from room to room.  It is not a huge leap from there to shouting bible verses at passing cars and sharing your bowl of tuna with your twelve stray cats.  In fact, if she wanted to pack her posessions and hit the road today she already has plenty of bags.  Tote bags, purses, recycled gift bags, backpacks - our playroom has held more sacks than Jenna Jameson.  And stuff!  Trinkets, fake jewelery, toys, crayons, papers, stickers-we have so much stuff.  Don't get me wrong- I appreciate all the gifts, large and small, that she has been given.  Heck, I enable her hoarding by picking up inexpensive stickers here and there or encouraging her to collect cool rocks and sticks on our exploration expeditions.  But some days walking into my house feels like I've been dropped into the Death Star trash compactor.  If I can't raise C-3PO on the radio soon, the walls will keep closing in and I'll be crushed in a pile of Barbies and Disney Princess DVDs.  (I just realized that I put myself in Luke Skywalker's shoes.  Lame.  I used to, and always will, pretend to be Han Solo, the coolest smuggler in the galaxy.)

So, why does my house, and the houses of most people I know, contain too much stuff?  Because America has become the Land of Accumulation populated by an army of hoarders.  I don't mean the clinically diagnosed, mentally ill that won't throw away rotting food or who poop in a grocery bag and toss it in the corner.  I mean the normal people that fill their homes and lives with things.  To some, acquisition is a sport, keeping up with the Joneses.  To others, new and shiny things are substitutes for other items missing from their lives.  Sometimes I think we get trapped into thinking we "need" crap that we really don't.  Why else would I be consumed by an avalance of Tupperware every time I open the cabinet when, in truth, we only use the same three or four containers over and over?  Wedding registries, that's why.

Hear me out.  When you get in that store with that scanner you start firing away like you are Han Solo blasting your way out of the Mos Eisley space port.  (See, he's much cooler than that tunic-wearing loser from Tatooine.)  Senseless Acquisition Mode takes over."Goblets?  Hell, yes we need crystal goblets!  Probably about seventeen of them.  Picnic basket?  I love picnics!  Useless spoon rest?  You bet.  Of course, the spoon rest is only useless until the night your new bride comes home and, instead of thanking you for the spaghetti dinner, rips you for staining the countertop with sauce.  The point is, running around Macy's, Target or Bed Bath and Beyond you can lose your mind, adding things to your wish list that you neither need, nor would ever spend your own money to purchase.  Follow the wedding with a baby shower, baby's first Christmas, birthdays, Arbor Day-there are dozens of excuses for more gifts junk to enter the home. 

Oh well, maybe Grace's Hoarder's money will pay for a new storage shed.  Otherwise, all three of us will have to take to the streets with our shopping carts.