I am trying to find copies of my old Christmas letters. In looking for the letters, I was going through my old blog archives. I came across this old post from 2004, which is a very short post asking for good thoughts on the day of my mom’s first chemotherapy treatment.
It is 7 years later, and my mom’s cancer is in remission. It feels so good to look back on that scary time knowing how well things went.
Did my mom really mean to like, 'Hot Video: Teacher from Behind'? I don't think so.
I’m so embarrassing! I know. How horrible for them.
Except, this wasn’t a matter of them having a fun private party and all of a sudden mom arrives and ruins it by embarrassing them. It was more like I was having a fun private party and then my children became old enough to want a facebook profile and suddenly, I find that not only are my teenagers talking back to me in the privacy of my own home but also on my facebook profile (and blog comments, too).
Oh joyous parenting of the twenty-first century, who knew?
That’s right. My children are friends with their mom on facebook. They are also friends with their dad on facebook, but he doesn’t update his status and rarely posts anything on their walls, so he is OK but MOM? She’s horrible.
And I’m OK with that because I think part of my parenting job is to stick my nose into my children’s business, and after years working as a reporter, I have the skills and know-how to do it right. I read text messages. I read email. I confiscate computers and phones and read random texts and instant messages. I also read every single folded up note that I find anywhere in my home.
My children do have the option to not allow me access to their accounts and various electronic devices, and at the moment my children exercise this right, they lose the internet and phone and/or iPod/mp3 or whatever device it may be.
Why? Because I am the parent and the wallet that pays for these things.
So, it amuses me to no end when I see something in real life or a TV show that makes it seem like it is difficult for a parent to do something about a child’s electronic usage.
I just watched a DVR’d episode of Working Class, which is a new CMT comedy show. The mother was begging her son to accept her facebook friend request. This isn’t optional. Why would any parent think it was? How do your kids get on facebook to begin with? Mom brings internet into the home, and Mom can take the internet away from you.
And for the most part, my kids don’t mind being my facebook friend. I try to offer them good advice. For instance, when one of them unknowingly suggested that they worked as a “slang word here,” I let the child know that the slang word they had chosen has a meaning that they weren’t aware of. Luckily, none of the child’s friends seemed to know the meaning either. Tragedy avoided. You’re welcome.
But when it came to my own mother on facebook? Why would I want that? But luckily, my mom is not computer savvy. In fact, she is a bit technologically challenged in that still to this day, she cannot set the clock on a VCR and frankly, that technology is so old that no one even has VCRs.
But my sister in all her wisdom created a facebook profile for my mom. Or maybe it was my niece. I just know that it was the relatives in Arizona. And to make things simple, they did it by doing all of the hard work and then just letting my mom know her username and password and then walking her through the steps to help her log in.
For a while, I was worried, but pretty soon, my mom’s computer wasn’t working, and she didn’t know how to get it to work, and she forgot about that facebook thing. But lately, facebook has been creeping into conversations. Did you see the cakes Shawn made? Or the javalina Chuck shot? What about the color of Jazmin’s new room? Eva’s latest pics? Maxine’s new dress? Oh, so and so posted them on facebook. When you go to Linda’s house, have her show you….
And my mom became interested in the internet again. My sister in Arizona (she is the one that starts all the trouble) convinced my mom that a laptop was the answer. It was portable, which meant if she couldn’t get it to work, she could easily bring it to her reluctant computer repairman (aka me) rather than wait until the next time Linda shows up in Grayling with time to fix the computer.
This is all a long story to say, “My mom’s on facebook.” That, of course, is code for, “My mom is on facebook, and she doesn’t know what she is doing, so she does weird embarrassing things and please know that I’m pretty sure she didn’t really mean to like the link about the teacher’s bottom, and I suspect it is really spam that automatically posts to your page when you click the link, and this means I no longer have to wonder about what the heck my cousin was thinking — and that it really had been a long time since I’d last talked to him and boy people must change — when he posted those same links to his page.”
Isn’t it simpler to say, “My mom’s on facebook.” And who knew that you could be mortified by your mother when you are almost 40? I thought it was a teen thing. Apparently not. 
At least, I know that I am not alone. Chances are your mother is on facebook too.
Happy birthday to my mom!
I am amazed so many people feel that way about my mother. OK, so the day is celebrating Dr. Seuss, but he didn’t have anything to do with my love of books. And trust me, I do LOVE books.
My parents fostered a love of books, but I’d say it began with me and my mom curled up in chairs and beds and couches and backs of cars with books. She would read to me and read to me and read to me. I loved listening to her read to me. And she always did.
My mom? She is a hard act to follow. She is an AWESOME mom. She nurtures. She cares. She kisses boo-boos. She exudes pride no matter how simple my achievement. She is just an awesome mom.
At night, she would tuck me into bed. I used to refuse to go upstairs until she would climb the stairs and turn on a light for me. She tucked me in every night for YEARS. And in the morning, I would hear her high-pitched voice calling to me just minutes before my alarm would be set to go off. “Liiinnnndddaaaa,” she’d call. The tone of her voice would cause our dogs to take up the call, and soon she would be joined by the howls of tiny chihuahuas with voices that were anything but tiny.
I hated riding the bus, so my mom would drive me to school. (Think about that for a moment. She would get up and get dressed on days she didn’t have to and drive me to school even though I could have 1) taken the school bus or 2) taken dial-a-ride. But because I didn’t like those things, she would drive me. Me? I’d make my kids ride the bus.) And after school, she would be there to pick me up from my various activities. I doubt I thanked her because I expected it. She was my personal chauffeur, and I probably treated her like that. After all, I was a teenager and life was all about me.
She is enjoying (just a bit) hearing me talk about my own children. She laughed and called the kettle black the other day when I mentioned the obsession my daughter has about a boy. OK, my exact words were, “She cares more about him and how he feels than anyone in this house.” And my mom responded, “I wonder who that sounds like?” I do not know. It certainly isn’t me. Nah. Couldn’t be.
But my mom is the kind of mom I couldn’t even try to be. When I was a child, she regularly used furniture cleaner and a vacuum. She went to every one of my school activities. She dropped whatever she was doing to help me when I asked and sometimes even when I didn’t ask. She never yelled. She never told me no. The only time I ever heard her swear was when she would cut a finger and then the word was “damn.” My children cannot say the same.
And the best thing about my mom? She is my mom and loves me no matter what even if I don’t always let her know how much I appreciate her. Thanks, Mom.
Today, my mom turns 73. This means that when she was my age, I was 6. She was also a new grandma. (My siblings are older than me by 11, 13, 14 and 15 years).
Later today, we will celebrate with cake (Amanda wants to make Better than Santa cake) and dinner. And I’m glad she is willing to spend her special day with us.
I just told my mom no. And when she whined and sighed and had her voice full of guilt and exasperation and reminded me of all the favors she has done for me, and I said no again.
And she still didn’t hear me.
Then I went into a little rant where I reminded her of all the times I told her that if in the future this should happen, I would not do this. And I mentioned how my husband does not want this to happen, etc.
Mom did not like that I said no. I suspect that even now she is on the phone to my siblings complaining about me, and together they all agree, I am a rotten spoiled child.
I am willing to do a lot of things for my mother. I even do some things she’d rather I didn’t do (she likes to save things, and once in a while, I declutter for her and probably get rid of things she’d rather keep).
But several years ago, I told my mom I would no longer watch her animals when she went on a trip. At the time, she had a parrot. I don’t like birds. They are messy. Plus, this parrot would bite, and I had little kids.
A big reason for me saying this was that I don’t like birds, but it was also because my mom travels a LOT, so I ended up watching her animals a LOT. In fact, two of her animals are buried in my backyard because they died while in my care. Really, given my track record, you would think that she wouldn’t want me to watch her animals.
The big thing you need to know about my mom is that she is almost never home. She travels a lot. She goes on trips, and she goes to her boyfriend’s house, and she goes to see friends. Many of her travels are not pet-friendly, which means she can’t take her pet with her.
I watched her animals for a very long time while she traveled with my dad, and again when my dad became sick and she stayed with him, and after my dad died when she traveled. In the beginning, it was easy to do. Her animals were familiar to me because I had lived with them before moving in with Steve.
I have even driven to her home when her dog was hit by a car in order to bury it for her. For another dog, I took it to the vet for her when it needed to be put down. (Again, I don’t understand WHY she thinks I’d be a good person to watch her dog — I just admitted to being associated with the death of four of her dogs.)
But when she was down to just the bird, I let her know that I couldn’t watch her animals any more. She traveled too much, and it was too hard for me. Mom didn’t want to give up traveling, so she found a new home for the bird.
She went animal free for quite a while, and it was nice. Once in a while, she would talk about getting an animal. Whenever I heard her say anything like that, I would remind her that I would NOT watch the animal for her.
A couple of years ago, she bought a puppy. It is actually the brother of one of my dogs. Before she bought him, I reminded her of how much she travels and that I wasn’t watching her animals. When she bought it, I told her “I am not watching your dog for you.” I stuck to that for a long time, and I wish I’d never made an exception, but it is HARD to say no to your parent.
When my mom stays with us, she brings her dog, and it stays in our garage. Her dog and my dog together are obnoxious, and they don’t stop or tire.
Then last summer, Steve and I both had to be gone at the same time, so I asked my mom to watch my kids. The day I picked up my kids, my mom asked me to watch her dog. (She plays dirty.) Reluctantly, I said yes.
And when my husband found out, I was in trouble. He doesn’t want me to dog sit for anyone. For one, he is allergic to both cats and dogs. We used to own cats, but we don’t any more. We do have dogs, but my husband also has allergy medicine that helps. Plus, my husband and I have both agreed to say no to any more dogs.
I can’t remember if I’ve given in any other times. I think I might have during a time my husband was gone. (He still wasn’t happy.) But, for the most part, when my mom asks, I say no.
And even though I know I told her before she even had the dog, I still end up feeling guilty. She works hard to make me feel guilty too.
BUT I don’t want to watch her dog. I don’t want to watch anyone’s dog. And this isn’t news to her or my siblings. I have been very clear about this.
I own dogs. I have three of them. I don’t ask anyone to watch them for me. I don’t travel a lot, and when I do travel, I stay close to home so I can still care for my own animals OR I take them with me. I know how hard it is to travel with pets, which is one reason I don’t travel a lot.
I need to figure out, however, how to stop feeling guilty about saying no.
I am sick and tired of writing about my 14-year-old with boyfriend, and I am thinking all of you are too.
And so, I am going to blog about things my mother doesn’t understand (even though she is 70).
1. Any off-color innuendo. She doesn’t get it. And beware that she may ask for clarification very loudly.
2. How to set the clock on her VCR.
3. Anything to do with her computer. She can’t even explain to me what it is she is trying to do. Have you ever tried to help someone by phone when the person requesting the help says things like “I can’t do that thing I did the other day. How do I do that again?
4. That when she calls me at home, and I answer, she really should know the answer to her question, “Where are you at?”
5. How to answer her cell phone.
6. That when she calls me using her cell phone, even though she isn’t calling from her home, odds are very good that I am home when she calls me at my home and I answer. Again, this should be a no-brainer.
7. Why I laugh when she tells me her doctor tells her, “He says I am in good shape for the shape I’m in.” I bet. What shape is that? Triangle?
8. That when she asks me “what’s that girl’s name you went to school with?” She really shouldn’t expect an answer. Her “Not Nikki, but the other one,” doesn’t help much either.
And what I don’t understand…
That despite the fact that I went to school with hundreds of girls, I knew exactly who she was talking about.
