Farm Town

All my teenagers have Facebook accounts. For months I have heard them talk about what was on Facebook, what Facebook quizzes they took, what pictures they posted. After giving them the responsible mom speech of watch out for creeps and predators and freaky stalkers, I then gave the speech that they spent way too much time on an internet program and how much did they really need to connect with people they saw all the time. I would never do something so silly.

Then several of my friends told me they had Facebook pages because that’s what good moms do. That way they can oversee their children and what is on their pages to make sure no creepy predators will see too much. They said I should have one too. So one day I signed on and created my own Facebook account.

Well, I needed some friends, or it really didn’t work. My daughter was my first friend, still young enough to want her mom as her internet friend. Then a few of her friends became my friend, too. I asked my son to be my friend and he, and even his girlfriend, became my friend. This made me very happy. My other son blocked me. He wasn’t friendly. I told myself it was his loss that I was not his friend. After all, I am very friendly.

For awhile I signed on once in awhile and checked out my friends. Then one day, my son’s girlfriend posted a very nice photo and I left a comment. My son told me that was just too creepy to have a mom comment on a photo. I could remain their friend, but had to be a very silent one. I did not want to be creepy.

Then I started getting more friends. It was such fun. I reconnected with friends that had moved far away. I could now hear about when they drank their coffee and see pictures of what they cooked for dinner. This wasn’t particularly interesting, but it was nice to think about my far away friends.

Then I got some friends from high school. This was fun too. I hadn’t seen many of them in 25 years and now I could read about what movies they liked and see pictures of their kids I had never met. Since I posted a photo of myself from about 20 years ago, just so no one would know I am now middle aged, I was surprised to see that so many of my high school friends hadn’t aged either. It was amazing. But it made me feel very old. And wrinkly.

Then I got friends from when I was about only ten years old. And even ones from when I was five! And I hadn’t even thought of them since then. Of course we have nothing to talk about since we don’t really play Barbies or jump rope anymore. But it was nice to see when they stepped out for coffee and what Facebook games they were playing.

Then they started sending me quizzes. I could find if I was stressed, or what Star Wars character I was, or what superhero was most like me. Quizzes to find if I was normal or a potential serial killer, and I could even grow my own virtual farm.

This was the worst. I spent hours each day tending my virtual farm. I would plant my crops, and check back often to see them grow. I could harvest them and sell them, and build fences for my horses and pigs. I could go to my friends’ farms to help them harvest their crops and we could all be neighbors and send each other horses and pigs. I thought maybe I had been on a bit too much when driving down the highway I passed a barn. I thought only 50,000 more coins and I could own one too. When passing a beautiful garden, I wondered if the owner would let me harvest it and we would both get more coins. My children worried about my problem with farming and how I was ignoring my own too-much-internet advice.

Realizing my problem, I let my virtual farm finally go fallow and let my obsessions calm down. Then one morning I get an email from my mother asking to be my Facebook friend. She had her own account now and was gathering friends. She would take her own tests probably want to comment on my photos. I wasn’t too sure about having my mom comment on my photos. But, then again, if she had her own farm, would she let me help harvest her crops?