Facebook

Facebook has it moments.

Moments of annoyance; such as when you click on a video that you friend posted, only to find it’s actually a virus that is self replicating, and you realize you have to warn all your friends not to click on the video you just posted.

Moments of sadness; when you read that a friend has lost a loved one. Even ‘friends’ that you have never met, you still feel a pang of grief, because inside you know what they are going through, but you know you can never express how you feel for them.

Moments of jubilation; A baby has been born, a child has graduated, the test results where negative (in the good way), the rescue puppy has stopped peeing on the carpet. These are time when you happily click the ‘like’, because you genuinely feel a glow inside.

Moments of hilarity; that picture your friend posted made you laugh so hard, you wet your pants slightly. pmsl has never been more apt.

Moments of disappointment; when you realize that ‘random’ you added because they made you laugh on other friends profiles, turns out to be a God-bothering psycho that is just trying to convert everyone.

Moments when you just want to delete your profile; no-one has commented on anything you’ve posted, for HOURS!

And then there are moments when if forces you to reflect. A status update today gave me such a moment.

What my Mother taught me:
Religion: ‘You better pray that comes out of the carpet’.
Logic: ‘Because I said so, that's why’.
Irony: ‘Keep crying and I'll give you something to cry about.’
Wisdom: ‘When you get to my age you'll understand’.
Justice: ‘One day when you have kids, I hope they turn out just like you’.
Repost if your mother taught you right

I added, Discipline: ‘You’re never too old to be put over my knee’, because it felt right.


Here’s the situation where each of these (or near as) happened to me.

I was given some silly putty as a gift for Christmas. I decided to take an impression of my hair crown because, as it’s on the back of my head, I had never seen it. The silly putty got so stuck in the hair, nearly two hours of combing, Surfega, sunflower oil and finally diesel, saw it out. But at the beginning of the two hours Muv said to me, ‘You better pray this come out or all you’ll be left with is a tuft of hair.’

‘Why shouldn’t I shave my legs Muv?’ ‘Because I said so, that why. Plus, do you want your legs to feel like this?’ Quickly followed by a hand being run up her stubbly leg.

When I started my periods, I bit*hed and moaned about the pain and cramps. ‘Keep crying and I'll give you something to cry about.’ I kept crying, so Muv took me to have my ears pierced. That hurt much more.

I like to think I understand a lot more now I'm the age she was once. Life does indeed suck, and yes, you will die.

I’ve never had two legged children (as discussed in other posts) but my fur and feathered kids, sleep like me, eat food like me and love me to bits. Even the chookens. So in many ways…they are just like me.

When I was 18, we where having a laugh about something…I can’t remember what it was, but clearly I over stepped the bounds of the Mother/Daughter freedom of speech act, because she said the line. Despite being a couple of inches taller and wider than Muv, she could still say the words, 'You're never too old...', and I knew it was true.

So I had many moments all rolled into one today, and for that I an thankful to Facebook and a random add friend that didn't turn out to be a psycho, God-bothering or otherwise.