I was driving to school last night, well, I mean of course I was driving- it's about 28 minutes away at 65 mph, and I was in the van. I used to drive the Saturn to class because it needed the exercise on the highway and it got 40 miles to the gallon. The Saturn was a classic college student car. You know- Old. Standard. Broken sunroof that couldn't open. Peeling clear coat. Yes, it was the perfect car for college. The radio sucked though. I have XM in my van and Sirius in H's, so it just sort of stunk to have to listen to local radio once I'd been spoiled by satellite radio. Still, since the Saturn now belongs to someone else, I did not have the option of driving it to class last night.
I had to take the van. The buff colored with beige seats, 2 car seats, 1 booster seat, enough strollers to seat 3 children and XM radio mini-van. I had it on my favorite channel- Lithium, and was SUPER thrilled to hear one of my FAVORITE songs by Rage Against the Machine come on.... so, since I was alone in the car, I turned it up.
And this is where my day started to go to sh*t.
Rage Against the Machine doesn't sound as good in a mini-van as it does anywhere else in the world. I'm sure of it.
SO, that was my moment where I realized that this is my life. I am a mom, of 3, driving a mini-van to college classes because I was too much of a loser to finish school in a logical degree program the first time around. I suck. I suck as much as this beige mini-van. I am going to be 33 in a matter of days and I drive a sucky mini-van. 33 year old people shouldn't drive a minivan when they're really 27 year olds trapped in a 33 year olds life.
Then I got to class, where I am well loved by my professor and things started to take an up turn. He's so damn smart its scary, and I will not lie- it's VERY flattering to be well regarded by him. I try to be modest, but, I think instead I come of flirtatious. I know, that's a strange thing to say, but I think I'm coming off as coy. Anyway, last night he's handing back papers to the class and says in his butter melted over warm toast drawl, "This quiz #4 wasn't as good as the first 3. In fact, some of you really struggled to do well. I suspect many of you must not have had time to do the reading for class?" (me, I'm nodding along. He's looking right at me. Of course I did the reading, he knows I did the reading. But, I'm just sort of nodding along). "Dare I say, that some of you could have done well on this quiz even if you hadn't done the reading." (I shrug an imperceptible shrug- I don't know, I did the reading) "And I was going to curve it, this quiz, until one of you got.... a 100." AND THE WHOLE CLASS LOOKS AT ME WITH ACCUSATION AND HATE IN THEIR EYES.
To friggin' bad, you people should have done the reading, besides at this point, I didn't know what I'd gotten so I sort of did this "don't look at me, I doubt I got the 100% mumble."
Only guess what? I got the 100. Duh, what else did I really expect? Don't worry I'm getting to the point of why my life as a mom is totally out of control.
And then, it happened. We were participating in a question/answer portion of the night, and some 2 bit bleach blond 13 1/2 year old dipstick who weighs 27 pounds says with a vague wave of her hand in my direction, "I think this class is geared toward the MIDDLE AGED people who got out of school a while ago and need a refresher before they go back full time and stuff."
And Stuff? The hopes of the course of our country rest in the hands of this young woman and her generation of "and stuff". And then I really realized what she said: MIDDLE AGED.
I look middle aged? Holy Snap. I couldn't possibly look 40+. I mean, I think of middle aged as over 40, maybe even pushing 50. W.T.F. First Rage Against the Machine in the van, and now... "Middle Aged"- in one night.