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With my dear mother finally deciding to join the 21st century this past March by making a Facebook profile, my two older siblings and I were taken aback by her abrupt taste for hipness. “Do we add her? Do you think she knows how to add us?” we pondered. “How does she even know how to make a profile picture?”
“I’m not sure how I feel about this,” we collectively concluded over group text from three separate states. Undoubtedly, we were far from the first Millenials to encounter such an unusual feeling.
Indeed, the name we’d virtually only seen in cursive on permission slips and progress reports from elementary school now existed in the previously parentless virtual reality of social media. Hell, it even included her maiden name (per unwritten Facebook Mom rules), which none of us had ever seen next to our last name prior. It soon became all too real: Facebook Moms have a legitimate presence on social media, and we are at risk of them becoming the majority of the Facebook population (#notreally).
Instead of holding this instinctive cynical grudge against the millions of mothers on social media for invading our cyber privacy, perhaps we should take a moment to applaud their collective progress as empty nesters over the past few years, effortlessly getting with the times and figuring out their role in the Facebook world: mere adequacy.
Whether it be my childhood friends’ mothers, my mother’s friends, or my mother herself, I’m fully comfortable with the fact that I have a few dozen new connections on Facebook I can rely on to like my status on any given random thing. Yeah, I said it. Sue me. You see, back in the day, I was known for being polite and on-time as a play date guest, and if they’re dishing out the love several years later rather anonymously, you bet your ass I’m gonna take it.
If you’re one of the lucky moms out there worthy enough to be a current Facebook friend of mine, congratulations, because I don’t take membership into this club lightly. What I’m signaling is that I’m okay with granting you historically unprecedented permission to navigate through almost every aspect of my social life — although I’d bet my last paycheck that you’re not skilled enough with your HP computer to do any real damage on this front. Besides, I have a special privacy setting that blocks all moms from seeing my regular postings that highlight my cocaine habit and passion for strippers. (Kidding. That’s a mom joke.)
All that moms want out of this newfound connection to society is to keep up with their loved ones as much as today’s technology allows them and occasionally be mentioned when you broadcast your life to the world. Take, for example, my buddy Kyle, who amicably messes with his #CoolMom Edie and shares their text message love on Twitter.
“I’m pooping right now” – @edieskaggs pic.twitter.com/d5h1QYrBsM
— Kyle Skaggs (@KyleSkaggs) January 24, 2015
She was doomed at “don’t tweet this either.” Being so social media-aware can also have its downfalls, @edieskaggs.
My mom thought the “👬” emoji was two guy friends holding hands just for fun pic.twitter.com/TAKexvPiGH — Kyle Skaggs (@KyleSkaggs) April 28, 2015
We should all take note of my man Kyle Skaggs’ approach to interacting with moms on social media. Just because it’s 2015 and Facebook Moms have an urge to apply their mom-instincts through the Internet doesn’t mean they should be disowned for their love.
I tagged my mom in my most recent Facebook profile picture, and crushed my personal likes record, learning that doing such an act is the most underrated power move of our time. Including your mom and tagging her in your profile picture means free weekly lunches for as long as you have that picture up there, epic joy from any kind of real-world encounters with Facebook Moms, and hella likes. I’m pretty sure pulling this move also means that buying her a present for her next birthday is super optional. Kidding.
Facebook Moms are still a work-in-progress on many fronts. Between sharing random Southern Living links, having zero understanding what the function of a hashtag is (but trying them out anyways), and not having a sense of etiquette about not adding younger people they don’t know like family, there’s certainly room to grow. And that’s perfectly okay — just like when we first failed at riding a bike, we’re not gonna give up on you.
Facebook Moms, we applaud your growth within the world of social media. I don’t really get to see the bonding you all have with each other over tagged pictures from last week’s garden club event or the grainy pictures from your new grandson’s first steps in your living room, but I’m really proud of you all for successfully conquering the task.
Am I saying Facebook Moms deserve our likes on pointless pictures of their cats being worthless pets? God no. Just don’t be shy from racking up your count of Facebook Moms, because honestly, unless you do have that joint cocaine-stripper problem, they’re a nearly harmless species.
And it’s all about getting those hella likes and free meals..
Image via YouTube
My mom has had a total of four profile pics in two years: Me alone, my brother alone, us together, and a field of flowers.
My favorite is the mom’s that just blindly share photos and articles on Facebook without looking at the source, “Mrs. Hambino shared Fuck Bitches, Get money’s video.”
That’s what you call a Childish Hambino.
I’m more interested in this date party at Kroger.
My sweet mother joined Snapchat the other day.
Mine made an Instagram account a while back. I feel you…
My old roommate tried to say on Instagram that he was going to slide into my mom’s DMs…little did he know that she had an Instagram and she proceeded to roast him. I’ll find picture proof.
https://twitter.com/delph_13/status/644173748199923712
I suck at the whole technology thing. PGP.
Looks to me like your buddy has a chance. I call next.
My mom sent me a message on Mother’s Day saying “All I want this Mother’s Day is to be your friend on Facebook.”
I couldn’t say no…
Totally thought your name was Eve Lawrence at first…. almost brought me back to the good ol’ days bud.