Be quiet.

Sitting in my Chem 101 class (the one I saved for my senior year of college because I hate math and science, therefore Chem 101 is my doom), Angela Anderson raises her hand for the fourth time since the beginning of class, which started twenty minutes ago. I roll my eyes and tilt my head back.

"Are you the type of chemist who completely denounces biology as a science?" Another unneccesary question from the nasal voiced brown-noser.

"Well, I feel that both sciences..." the professor begins her schpeal. What is it about those students that drive me up the wall? Ms. Anderson is the type of student that, in a giant lecture hall of 400 students, one minute before the class ends, raises her hand and asks a question that requires a half an hour explanation from the teacher. A groan passes throu the lecture hall. looks are exchanged among friends, eyes are rolled, pencils are broken. Everyone in this classroom wants to put your tongue in a blender, Ms. Anderson.

Do the teachers even like these people, cause I sure as s%#t know that the other students don't. Well, maybe Anthony, also in the front row, may like you. He, too, has been dipping his nose in the brownie batter, with similarly useless questions. Maybe you two can get married and make annoyingly inquisitive children. Then, they can go to college at the same time as my children. Maybe they will be in the same class as my children. Maybe the Anderson children will raise their hands one too many times. Maybe, one day my child will bring a blender to class.

Ms. Anderson... shut up.

Mmm Mmm Good

Standing in the canned vegetable aisle of the grocery store, I began pondering life's big questions. As canned goods often insight thoughts such as these. There are two kinds of people in this world...

Generic and name brand people.

I'm not talking Gucci vs Prada, I'm talking Campbell's soup vs. Mr. Yumskies soup.

Staring at the chunky vegetable Campbell's soup, with its eye catching red label and systematically chosen font, I realize I used to be a name brand kind of person. I was the high school girl with the dark sense of humor. I was the first to smoke a cigarette, first to kiss a boy, first to taste alcohol, etc. I wore cute clothes and painted my nails. I styled my hair and walked with an arrogant strut. I winked at the boys in the car next to mine.

But, as following my own lead I was the first to get pregnant. Now, I am the generic brand, the generic mom. I am the pale white, times new roman, 60's Cuban missile crisis bomb shelter style labeled Mr. Yumskies tomato soup that tastes like ketchup and water. We generic people are the people who never quite catch your eye. We aren't quite the dollar general store, but we are the invisible middle ground. We are the mini-van drivers. We are the wearers of 5k t-shirts that we never ran. We are the coupon-cutters. We are the barely making it paycheck to paycheck, and yet we keep having kids.

I realize I am one of these. I am the generic mom. Call me Mrs. Yumskies.