To blog or not to blog. To update my wall on Facebook or not to. One can't be too careful these days on the internet. You never know who is watching or reading or reporting back to spouses. Or mothers.
When I joined Facebook, in my sad quest for more friends, I asked my daughter to be my friend. She refused. After months of badgering, she finally relented. Then I made a comment on her wall and she immediately defriended me. Then she refriended me. Then one of her boyfriends sent me a friend request, which I accepted. Bad move.
My daughter accused me, jokingly I hope, of being a pedophile. I never visited her boyfriend's wall. Until one day when the head teacher at my son's school got suspended. I got the bright idea of visiting the friend's wall to see if there was any gossip about it. There wasn't, but there were pictures from my daughter's "Fab 15 Birthday Party," which had been held at me house while I was home.
I knew there was drinking, but couldn't find the bottles. I didn't know that one of the bedrooms was "the makeout room." I didn't plan to tell daughter I'd seen the photos because I knew she'd get angry. Also, I thought they were funny. And I laughed so loud my son came in to see what I was laughing at. He told daughter I'd seen the photos. Daughter got on the phone to boyfriend in tears telling him he had to choose between her or me.
And the next day I had one less friend. But I understand. For my mother is my friend on Facebook. And she queries everything I put on my wall.