Once upon a time, I had a Facebook page. It wasn’t anything flashy. I didn’t talk about politics, unless I was poking fun. I didn’t talk about war or the men and women we have lost because of it. I just made light of my everyday. I did this for my own sanity. I did this because I would make myself chuckle at my own thoughts and decided maybe someone else needed to chuckle, too.
One day, I erased that account. I was tired of seeing FB friends at Target and having nothing to say. “How are you?” seemed to be no longer needed because I knew from FB that said person had just married her high school sweetheart, landed her dream job, gotten her hair cut, had P.F. Chang’s on Thursday, and watched 27 Dresses last night on TBS. I had nothing to say. I knew all of my friends’ stuff. Conversations became way harder than they used to be. I hated it.
There were a million other reasons as well. In my free time, I would read statuses instead of books. Date nights involved me checking to see what other people were doing. Comparison crept in when I would see so-and-so’s new car, new house, new shoes, etc. Facebook fights were the same as actual fights on a playground. It drew eyes from everywhere. People become brave behind a computer, tablet, or phone. They say things they would never say to your face. It was unhealthy for me and those around me.
It has been well over a year since I kicked the habit. I have learned a lot. I have grown a lot. I have no intentions (right now) of getting back on Facebook, but I miss it so stinking much. So, I have decided to establish Friday as Facebook Friday, or #FBF, as some would call it. (Get it? Thanks for the idea, Kyle). All week, I will compose a list of all the statuses I would have posted to Facebook. On Fridays, I will post them all here and pretend I have a Facebook account for a day. Feel free to comment and tell me what movies you have watched lately or what you ate for lunch this week. Or how your diet is going. Or how much you love your kids and just adore being a stay-at-home momma.
Here are some of the things that went through my mind this week:
Are Glamour Shots still a thing?
We give our kids our old pillows. So, my kids only own pillows that are flat like folders. I’m hoping this isn’t considered neglect.
I have thought I’ve seen a ghost roughly six times today.
I went to the mall the other day in search of a shirt. I carried the cutest shirt all the way to the dressing room. I stared at the dressing room door and had flashbacks from when I got stuck in a shirt at a Pac Sun. It took me 20 minutes to get out of that Pac Sun shirt. I decided I hate shopping and left the mall.
Ross and Monica’s relationship is too affectionate for me. My brother has never kissed my cheek and if he ever tried, I would shank him.
No seriously, Monica and Ross were just holding hands. I don’t trust it.
I’m binge-watching all of the seasons of Friends. Sorry if all my fake Facebook posts are in regard to that.
I get that some people consider speeding to be a sin, but Jesus wants you to, at least, go the speed limit. It is not a suggestion.
My daughter keeps inviting the boys in her pre-school class to our house for sleepovers.
I’m reading Gone Girl. So, it is only fitting that I constantly fear my husband is going to kill me. Yesterday, he sent me a text that read, “I’m sorry.” My initial reaction was, “It’s happening.” Turned out he was just sorry that his alarm went off a million times at five in the morning.
How come sometimes string cheese comes out of the package juicy? Please tell me everyone’s string cheese is like this. I am not exactly sure how long mine has been in the fridge.
Me on Monday: No, you cannot have gum before breakfast.
Me on Friday: I don’t care; just get away from me. Yes to all things you want to do until I am done with my coffee.
Sometimes, when I go to my Solitaire app, I feel like it is mocking me. “Welcome back, Stefanie. Too bad you suck at the daily challenges.”
My daughter and I were taking friends to the airport the other day. I had to drive their minivan back to their house afterwards. I caught my daughter picking her nose in the very back. I yelled at her and told her this wasn’t our car and that we don’t allow those types of unsanitary things to happen in our own vehicles, let alone someone else’s. Anyway, she examined the floor boards and responded with, “It can’t be the only booger back here, Mom.” That child. Sorry, Jen.