Uh-Oh. My Mom Has Facebook

I knew it was only a matter of time before my mom friended me on Facebook.

She was kind enough to send a message in advance to warn she’d opened an account and understood if I though it would be too weird to be Facebook friends. Even my mom knows it’s sticky territory.

Isn’t it strange how someone you know so intimately can seem like the most awkward person to befriend through social networking, yet more than likely, there’s a few dozen people on your Facebook friend list you’ve never even met before?

I was once connected to her by an umbilical cord. Why should Facebook feel awkward?

OK, truthfully it’s not awkward at all. Over the past few years, my Facebook profile has dulled down quite a bit. After graduate school applications, job applications and maturity (I suppose), my profile has been diluted to the point where I’ve got nothing to hide. I could make my profile completely accessible to the public. I’m not going to, but I could.

Think of how cool it must be to be 51 — but not look a day past 34 — and all of the sudden, you’ve got a way to connect with all of your high school friends, your friends who’ve moved away and friends you’ve completely lost touch with?

When I got Facebook, I used it to communicate with roommates. It was also a great way of keeping up with friends who’d gone to college elsewhere, friends who had stayed in my hometown and connecting with people I’d just met. College is already a hyper-social environment. Facebook was like kerosene for that fire. I’m not surprised my mom got Facebook. I’m surprised it took this long.

My mom’s going to become addicted. My girlfriend and I probably haven’t done our best job of sending home pictures, but now my mom can just check out my profile. Have a quick question, Mom? Message me. Quick reminder? Use my wall, please. Comment all you want on photos of my girlfriend and I, but keep it reasonable.

The same reason I’m OK with my mom getting Facebook is the same reason Facebook isn’t that much fun anymore. At the ripe old age of 25, most of my peers have watered down their online profile by no longer adding photos, videos, status updates or, well, anything. They’ve grown stagnant (and bored) with Facebook. So, it’s not like my mom’s crashing the party. The party is over. Everyone’s sober. The house has been cleaned. All of my wild friends went to AA. Have I exhausted this metaphor yet?

I used to think Mom joining Facebook would be the impetus for me saying farewell. As if I’d know what to do with an extra two hours each day. As if I could kick it cold turkey. As if I could get by on Twitter alone.


The same person I’ve been to my friends is the same person I’ve always been to my mom. I’ve never felt the need nor have I ever been asked to censor myself in her presence. If anything, now my mom gets a better take on what’s going on with my life here in Portland. No big deal.

Sorry, AT&T — we won’t be needing you as much anymore.

4 thoughts on “Uh-Oh. My Mom Has Facebook

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