My Mom is on Facebook
November 11, 2010 at 2:42 pm
and I like it.
I know. This is not the normal response- the normal response is, “What? Mo-om. No-o,” in that distinctive 16-year-old tone. “Now I have to stop swea-ring. And posting pics of a shirtless Ewan McGreg-or.”
Here’s the thing though- for me? This is great.
As the only child of hers who staunchly refuses to live in the Tri-state area, communication between us is a priority and much to her frustration, the traditional methods are not my strong suit. When I say traditional, we’re mainly talking about…
the telephone. Oh, you coy bastard. How I hate you so.
I have long despised the telephone. I held out as long as possible before getting a cell phone because the thought of tethering myself to one was shudder-inducing. I hate the way a sharp ring of the phone pierces through the silence in my quiet house (I am shriveling up as we speak- where is my shawl? To whom do these gnarled hands belong?) I hate the way people jump up when it goes off, partly in shock because it’s a little bit like an electronic Jack-in-the-Box (also hate) and partly because they feel like They Have to Get The Phone. This ingrained habit never feels to irritate me, I’m sorry. When you’re sleeping and you pick up the phone, I am annoyed. This phone transaction plays as follows:
“Oh.” Muffled noises. “Hey.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, were you sleeping?”
“Huh? Oh. Yeah. It’s fine though.” Quasi yawn. “What’s up?”
What’s up is that I think I’m supposed to feel guilty now because I woke you up but I don’t because obviously you did not want to sleep anymore if you answered your phone. A landline I get because it will keep ringing but mostly it’s a cell phone call- which can be politely silenced after the first ring.
And with the advent of cell phones and Blackberries, things have just gotten so much worse. Now not only do I compete with your attention when you get an Urgent Phone Call, in between I need to pause my fascinating story while you check your texts and emails at the dinner table. On the couch. At a party. I’m not saying I need to be the center of attention all the time (yes I am), but when you’re in the room, you’re the center of mine.
Anyway. Ranting has distracted me. I love this Facebook idea. Unlike a startling majority of people who still haven’t discovered the glories of Facebook privacy settings (including my intern. Awkward), I’m controlling the flow of information here- scandalous Vegas photos? Hidden. Wall posts? No. I started to but then I realized I liked the idea of my mom seeing what I’m up to all day. Chiming in. And if I say something I shouldn’t, well, I shouldn’t say it in the first place, right? It’s kind of like having a physical conscience in the room. Plus, she knows I swear. This is not a huge revelation. The worst that can happen is that she discovers a few things about me she didn’t know before- like my aforementioned lust over Ewan McGregor. My habit of using ALL CAPS. That I would like the Coen Bros movies more if they were about something that interested me, such as “There Will Be Muffins.” And that I routinely make myself laugh over my own status updates.
Plus, seeing all her old friends pop up and say hi? Watching her re-connect with my cousins, share photos of my nieces and nephew, telling her friends how much she loves my dog? That’s an online hug I can get used to every day.
Entry filed under: Love Ya, Random Bits. Tags: LinkedIn.