Monday, August 31, 2015

Your Mom Goes to College

(One of my classes today.)


Today I started a new chapter in my life. It's called,

Your Mom Goes to College

As my first day at Weber State ended, I realized there are a few things that might happen if you return to school after twent--mffshh *ahem* a lot of years. 

If your mom goes to college she might assume that buying a parking pass means she'll just arrive and find a place to park. When she spends 35 minutes trying to find a parking spot, she might start swearing. A lot. She also might almost hit another car. And then, when she realizes she's already late for class she might just park illegally on a residential street screaming "Screw it! Give me a ticket!" and then run to class. 

She might arrive at her first class ten minutes late. Arriving late might give her anxiety*.  Then she might spend the next hour trying to pay attention to the teacher while also wondering how much her parking ticket will cost.

If your mom goes to college she might search through the crowds trying to find someone, anyone, who isn't young enough for her to have given birth to. She might not succeed.**

She might wonder  if she's the only one whose feet hurt because she wore those damn flip-flops. Because they were cute. Then she might notice that about 89% of the students wore flip-flops. She might try to ignore the fact that the 89% have young-enough-to-be-your-kid, non-plantar-faciitis feet.

If your mom goes to college, she might run to her car after class, prayingthat she didn't get a ticket. She might see a parking meter-maid (who is not a maid, but an old, gray-haired man) just three cars away from her minivan. Upon seeing said meter-man, she might run to her van to get there before he does. Then she might jump in and drive away as fast as possible, laughing and thanking heaven for small miracles.

If your mom goes to college, she might arrive home ready for a nap and hopeful that day two will be less stressful.


*I am a habitually punctual person. Like OCD-punctuality. Being 5 minutes early is late. Being ten minutes late--I might die.

**With the exception of my second professor. His salt and pepper beard comforted me.






(If you don't get the Napoleon Dynamite reference, I highly recommend you to find the movie and watch it, preferably late at night when you're punchy.)


4 comments:

  1. Love this so much! It is so very true! It was a bittersweet pill to swallow that while I was thrilled to return to school, my classmates didn't understand my 80s references....and frankly 90s. lol I was the 'sage' in class and felt like I needed to send home a sign up sheet for bringing treats on holidays. It will get better and relish in your 'authority' position while resting those piggies!

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  2. I am completely in love with your notations. This is all awesome. I'm so glad you're keeping us updated on the adventures.

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  3. I HATED trying to park on campus. The two times I tried to drive to school in my entire 5-ish years of college I turned around, went home, and skipped class those days.

    It's so cool that you're doing this! Good luck!

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  4. You're awesome and this is terrific!

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