Objectified

I love to accumulate. Papers and keepsakes, books and magazines. City church bulletins, letters from kids, art supplies. As my mom would like to say, I'm a pack-rat. My roommates would agree that I'm the one who, as Maggie pointed out, will one day have to move out of my room because I've just filled it to its capacity. I will be drowning in stuff. Sounds terrible, but I have the hardest time separating from objects of significance.
Maybe it's because I saw the film "Objectified" today and saw the creative design and thought process behind some of the most mundane things we own. Like a potato peeler or a vacuum cleaner. I guess I will never look at household objects the same way again. But, the last line of the movie, a journalist suggested that no matter how well something is designed, it doesn't mean it will be the first thing we grab when the hurricane comes. We will grab objects of significance, which are unique to each of us.
All of this to say, I've been on a cleaning rampage since summer began and several trash bags and one clothing exchange later, I've just about finished. It feels good to have a simpler life, a file organizer of important papers, a clean purse, a perfectly packed suitcase, an iPhone filled with important contact information. Maybe this is about what becoming an adult is like. Ever since I saw "Away We Go," I've been thinking about how you know when you've reached that phase. I guess you never do reach complete adult nirvana, but rather you come to terms with the fact that it's unattainable. You can question yourself, "Am I a f*&% up?" like John Krasinski and Mia Rudolph's characters do (and I find myself thinking 85% of the time), or you can accept the reality that it will never actually happen. Chapters of the book will close, internships will end, seasons of life will change, relationships will result in an engagement or a break-up.
I know I like to make a mess in the meantime, but I'm always up for the organizational debriefing along the way. But, just when you think you've got it all together, the hurricane might hit and none of the tiny imperfections will survive the deluge.

Nanny Diaries

Seeing families at work and play in the city is a paradox to me. I'm both encouraged, when I see an apartment filled with a parent's art work and a well-lit studio upstairs, and sad, when I see how hard parents have to work to compensate for providing the best for their child. Or when a new mom, now with baby, can't leave her apartment for a few weeks. Or when three kids, two of which erupt in tantrums at the dinner table, continue to instigate each other's traumas.
But then you see the cute moms with the strollers make it look so easy, when really it's not. The difficult three-year-old who literally pees on the floor, having an accident like she is a puppy. Taking kids to the grocery store and not being able to leave the store without the Starburst that the two-year-old stuck in her mouth and blue soda that the six-year-old swore his dad let him have.
But there are moments when I think my life can't get any better: when the kids are worn out from the day, when we're having a dance party to Kelly Clarkson, when we are eating ice cream in the middle of the afternoon, when we are in the sand at the park, when we are cuddling and reading a story together. A dad this week reminded me that I need to see the good in my life: like having the summer off and focusing on me. But at the same time, I know that it's so much more gratifying when the attention shifts to others. And it's hard for me to not think about how I want what they have one day, even in a city if God wills it to be that way.
I wonder if my mom felt the same way in her twenties, focused on her career and burgeoning life in the city. What all changed when she met my dad and then decided to have kids, five years later? Why did my mom have two kids and what did she do to get through the days of tantrums and accidents? I don't remember being difficult, but I know that I was just as guilty as my brother in provoking bickering.
Am I acting maternal right now so I can give to others' kids or is it all to benefit those of my own some day? I don't know the answer, and it's sometimes hard to be patient in the meantime trying to figure it all out, not knowing if "Meg, you will make a great mom someday."

What time is it?

Summertime, anticipation, no more waking up at 6 am...
I've listened to the HSM2 soundtrack song so many times over the last few days, that the words are all jumbled together in my head. Even my friend Sayde from home, who I saw this past weekend in SLO, knew the words and bopped along to the song while it was blaring in the car. She said it's because "Zac Efron's a cutie," but I'm not sure if that's really why she knows all the words.
I listened to it the first time with Maggie the other day, we shared headphones on an ipod so as not to wake our other roommates up. It was too hard to dance with the headphones in, so we had to turn the volume down low and turn the speakers on.
The second time I was with my last group of kids on Thursday morning. I played the soundtrack for them and they were so excited for this song and "Gotta Go My Own Way" (into second grade, go figure?) It was a bittersweet moment, these were kids that I've grown so attached to over the past year that I had a hard time letting go.
The third time I was with Claudia and Robin on the car trip down to SLO that same day. Our music selection was diminished significantly, but we came upon a CD entitled "Meg's Choice" from 6/08 that helped set the tone with Ingrid Michaelson, Death Cab, and HSM hits all on the same disc.
The fourth time I was with Matt and Katie on Friday night, I think? and Nick and Robin and Claudia at Nick's house to celebrate Matt's birthday. I'm sure that it came up in some context that evening, Matt singing it, I just can't remember all of the specifics.
Saturday, I was having a hard time rallying for the next outing, due to the lack of sleep from the night before. Sayde wanted to see the landmark Morro Rock, a gi-normous rock jutting into the ocean a few miles from San Luis Obispo. As soon as I got into the car with Sayde and Robin, with the windows down and the song blaring, I felt re-energized.
It's Sunday night now, and I'm thinking about what time it is? I don't have to wake up at 6 am...