I’m on Facebook, just like a bazillion other people are. Actually, I only ended up on Facebook, because I was encouraged, no, more like taunted by someone to be there. It was my son, Nathan, who said, “Mom, join Facebook,” to which I said, “Nah, I’m already on Myspace doing the social networking thingy,” to which he tauntingly said, “Mom, Jenna is on Facebook!”
Jenna is Nathan’s stepmother. That’s all I have to say about her, well, not really. And because I try to make this a family blog, when it’s not an educational blog, I will write no further.
Anyway, after I joined Facebook, Nathan became my friend. Over time, I read all those stories about how difficult it was for some parents to be friends with their kids on Facebook, or how some kids would not allow their parents to be their friends. Then I observed some lovely stories, like the one I witnessed every day between Suzebabe, her husband, Furwood, and their 18-year-old daughter, Katie.
Nathan and I remained face-to-face in our book for quite some time until I voiced an opinion or two; however, in my defense, it was only in the name of Motherhood. And to answer that age-old question, “Do Motherhood and Facebook mix?” I’m still not sure; I think it depends on your child.
I had commented on his status once, asking if he was okay because he posted the lyrics to this song. Another time, I told him to change his Facebook picture, because it was of him and the girl he took to the prom. I knew (and he just recently admitted this) she was leading him on, and selfishly I disliked seeing her picture on his page.
After those two infractions, I was deleted. After some time, we talked, and I asked Nathan if he might consider reading the same book with me once again. He said he would.
We were blissful friends for another few months until he had his car accident. He was devastated by it. Unfortunately, the accident had been witnessed by about six guys from his soccer team.
Not wanting him to feel like he was the only one who would ever have an accident, I posted something supportive (words and, of course, music!) to his page. It was deleted in under five minutes. It was then that I realized that this was a case where Motherhood and Facebook wasn’t going to work; I deleted Nathan as my friend with no complaints from him.
Today, I met a HUGE deadline at 4:55pm. I had been totally stressed out for the last three weeks over it. When the last person signed off on my documentation, I immediately shut down my laptop, turned off my cube light, and then I picked up my cell phone to check my e-mail.
I saw an alert from Facebook. I had recently posted, “You know you're old when your teenager has a better social life than you do. Actually, you know you're old when you have a teenager!“ Oddly, it had generated a lot of feedback, so I thought this alert was yet another response to it.
When I opened the email, I was stunned. I blinked, read the email once, twice, and then a third time. The email read as follows:
I was like, “Whaaaaaaat?” Nathan wanted to be my Facebook friend. I immediately texted him, wondering if some kid, who liked the fact that a mother supplied the Dungeons and Dragons crew with munchies and soda, had hijacked his account.
I immediately texted Nathan. I asked, “You want to be my friend?!?! Gasp!” He texted back, “I had a change of heart.”
I spent the drive home wondering why Nathan wanted to be my friend again. Was it because Joey said, “Nathan, your Mom’s saucesome for making us dinner and letting me sleep over?” Was it because his Dungeons and Dragons crew said, “Nathan, you’re Mom’s saucesome for sending all this horrible but truly great tasting junk food?” I’d never know, and I know I would never ask for fear of deletion.
When I got home tonight, I accepted his friend request. I then made my Italian sausages for beer o’clock tomorrow, and waited and wondered what Nathan might post on page. An hour ago, he posted a song to my page with no explanation.
I listened to the song; I liked it. I told him so. Perhaps, like most relationships, ours had matured, and while we loved each other and might not see eye-to-eye on some things, we would now always meet in the middle of our iPod playlists.
All relationships have growing pains. Until today, I thought those pains were only experienced by lovers. Today, I realized that they were also experienced by parent and offspring. ♥
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