Friending My Mom

My Mom joined Facebook the other day. I told her I would be her friend, unlike those nasty teenage children who refuse to friend their parents. It isn't as if I am doing anything I wouldn't want her to know about.

Let's face it, I'm forty and married with children I need to friend my Mom. Plus, I actually like her. She may be my only witness to the daily madness I endure at the hands of my family. And that doesn't stop her from spoiling all of them.

She is kind of like a fly on the wall or a neutral observer who says, "Yeah you're totally screwed," but doesn't get all upset about everything. Her nonchalance to the insanity actually calms me down because most of the time she is a drama queen.

"Mom, you're gonna love Facebook," I say. "Everyone is on it."

I am sure in about a week she will have more friends than me, since she is a social butterfly to my shy but creative type. She signed up as I was leaving for work. By the time I came back three hours later, she had five friends.

"Everyone is on Facebook," she says happily. "This is so fun!"

Not only that, but she had done the impossible. She inspired my husband to sign up for Facebook in five minutes. I had been coaxing him to sign up for months without any luck.

"Should I use my real name?" asks Stefan. He wasn't kidding, but I laugh anyways.

He soon discovers his Dad, in Germany beat him to Facebook. Welcome to online social networking honey.

The other day, I updated my Facebook status and saw it was my Mom's birthday. I told her not to make her birthday public. Wait a second, I'm the daughter. I almost forgot. Nevermind.