Three Strikes

As some of you know, I’ve had a difficult time on Facebook lately. No one has stalked me, convinced me to start an Amway franchise, or tried to sell me a ski condo in Loon, well, so far. I've had difficulties with my son, Nathan; one day, I was his “friend,” and then the next day I was “not worthy.”

Anyway, lately, something happened. I was his friend again. No, I still haven’t asked why. The Army had “Don’t ask, don’t tell,” and Nathan had “Don’t ask me too many questions, or I will delete you again.”

It was exhausting. Okay, it wasn’t really exhausting. It was a fine line to walk.

I knew most parents didn’t have to walk a straight line while reciting their ABCs backwards like it seemed I did some days whenever I was Nathan’s friend on Facebook. Oddly, Nathan and I had a very good relationship; however, I always had to tread lightly on the “Like” and “Comment” links when it involved Facebook. And, I knew I could never ever post a comment as it would be swiftly deleted like I would be a minute later.

Two days ago, I logged onto Facebook. I saw that I had 102 friends. I was minus a friend; I wasn’t one to keep track, but then again, it bothered me that someone might think me worthy of “Delete.” Of course, I immediately scrolled down my list of friends for Nathan and didn’t find him.

I was perplexed though. Since being Nathan’s friend, I had not commented on any of his posts nor even looked at his page. Had someone hijacked my Facebook account and left Nathan a “You were so cute when you used to suck your middle and ring fingers while stroking your stuffed bear’s tag” comment? That comment was definitely grounds for deletion.

Actually, that comment was grounds for disowning a parent if said anywhere other than handwritten in a Hallmark card after having two glasses of Chardonnay and being wistful on a birthday that really counted. Which birthdays really counted? That was a tough call, because they all did; the unfortunate part was that even if you loved them all the time, they didn’t want to hear it, especially if the birthday had “teen” in the age.

I texted Nathan once I realized he was gone. I asked, “Did you delete me again?” He answered, “No. Why?”

I explained it to him. He vehemently denied clicking the “Delete” button. The next day, I checked again; he was still not my friend.

I send him a friend request, stating that I didn’t know what happened. He immediately accepted. Foolishly, I read his page on which he stated that he “lost” his iTouch when he was visiting Connor’s brother, Chris, at Tufts.

I immediately texted him. First strike. I asked, “You lost your iPod?!?!?!?”

He texted back that he had. Chris was "looking" for it. Well, let’s do the math; iTouch less than 3 months old + loaded with “good*” music = We will never see that iTouch again.

*"Good" as defined by the tastes of a person who is 15 to 23 years of age.

I called him and asked him what happened. He said that he had it in his pocket and it fell out. He then quickly said, “See, this is why I don’t want you as a Facebook friend,” though did he really think I wouldn’t notice he was shy his music when we drove anywhere together?!

He hung up. I sighed. Then, I saw that I had a comment on Facebook from Nathan. It said, “Strike 1 young lady.”

I laughed. This portion of my relationship with Nathan I would never figure out. And, I knew that maybe I never would.

After Nathan came home from school today, he told me he was having trouble accessing the Internet from his laptop. Of course, he immediately called his Dad and asked, “How do I wipe out everything on my laptop?” I then said, “Hey, wait a minute…” which fell upon deaf ears as he was still listening to his Dad talk.

I went into his room and grabbed his laptop. I googled. He got off the phone, and I said, “I think all we need to do is restore your laptop’s operating system to a date prior to when you had the issue.”* I had started the system restore, and then Nathan said, “Oh, um, sure, pick this date.”

*A friend taught me this when I had my virus a few months ago.

Within twenty minutes, his laptop had rebooted. In ten minutes, his Internet was working again. In five minutes, he called his Dad to say “we” solved the problem.

A few minutes later, I said, “You’re welcome.” He said, “Oh, yeah. Thanks.” I had never liked playing games, so I hoped that this “O” had wiped out my Facebook “X.”

I would never understand what I was supposed to say to Nathan and what I wasn’t. At one point tonight, I was on my computer and he came by and started to rub my neck and hug me. Like all relationships, things not said might be always only be felt.

I then asked, “So, how exactly did you lose your iTouch?” He then told me the whole story. I won’t tell you the whole story, but it involved “rolling down a hill with a girl” on the way back to a dorm at Tufts and not “it just fell out of my pocket” as originally stated; I realized then that I didn’t care if I still had one Facebook strike. In that moment, with some minor prodding, he told me, his Mom, everything, and I was so glad that he felt he could…at 17. (This song is not really related, but I love it, so there!) ♥

In the Facebook stalking (shhhh!) department: Nathan’s post tonight was in regard to his car accident two months ago. It said, "Will not be losing his license and will not be going to court tomorrow. Success.” (And, did you know I wouldn't have know that fact immediately had I not stalked!)

Anyway, no one was hurt in the accident except for Nathan's '95 Red Suburban (a.k.a., Big Red). My insurance will skyrocket, but after his first car accident, there he was still in his bedroom tonight with his IM bonking and his phone beeping with text messages. I had to be thankful for that, very thankful, even if we were down an iTouch due to “rolling down a hill with a girl.” I love you, Nathan. ♥