Nancy Vanderstappen is on Facebook. In college, I was always like, “No WAY would I add you on Facebook!! Laaaaaaaame.” And she was all, “Well, what do you have to hide????” and I was in her face with, “MY OTHER LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
But that was a long time ago when I was young and stupid and fought with my mother about silly things. Which NEVER happens anymore… (right Mom?)
On Wednesday it happened. I became Facebook friends with my MOTHER.
It’s official. I’m REALLY (gulp), OFFICIALLY friends with my mom now. Because we all know that something isn’t real until it’s on Facebook. It took 23 years. But here I stand.
Nancy will enjoy the Facebook world, I’m pretty sure. A big reason is because she will realize how many of my friends like her based on her comments on my blog.
Mom is sooooo funny telling everyone how much I like spending her monayyyy.
See?! She already likes that people want to “like” all of her comments! PROOF!
I see several problems with this whole Mom-on-Facebook thing…
PROBLEM 1. Is my mother… FUNNIER than me?! Could this really be happening?! This is not right!!! Is she going to steal all of my friends?? I’m getting all worked up, which translates to sweating, and my GOD is that a cold sore I feel coming?? MOM YOU’RE STRESSING ME OUT AND YOU’RE 3 HOURS AWAY FROM ME.
Attention Nancy: STOP BEING FUNNY. YOU’RE TAKING THE ATTENTION OFF OF ME AND YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE ATTENTION!!!
PROBLEM 2. Now that Nance is on Facebook, she can read all of the comments that I put on my photos. And now she can fight back.
Clearly, I posted this comment BEFORE I knew she would see it.
Now, I’m going to have to watch what I say! No making fun of Mom behind her back! No more sarcastic comments directed at Mom, because they were only made because Mom wasn’t supposed to ever see them, and now I can get in TROUBLE for them!
So now, I have to go through my Facebook and delete pictures, comments, ANYTHING that is NOT for my mother’s eyes. Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Really though, I don’t mind that my mother is on Facebook. Because this is her “about me”:
Do you see that? 7 beautiful children. One of those 7 children is me.
And Mom? You’re not allowed to yell at me for throwing that little tantrum about you being funnier than me. We’re friends now, remember?