My Mother and Facebook

My friends had warned me and I did not listen.

It all started back when my mother joined the digital revolution and went online. It wasn't long before she created a Facebook account and then... yes, sent me a friend invite.
I put off responding and took this dilemma to my friends.  Their response was a resounding 'NO!'. I think they all added a variation to the effect of 'are you insane? why would you even need to ask if this is ok? Of course it isn't!' Apparently, you do not add your mother to your Facebook account, I understand this now, but couldn't help but feel really guilty! After all, this was the woman that carried me for nine months, gave birth to me, fed me, changed me and loved me.... how can I not accept a friend request from my mother??? What kind of an ungrateful son would I be?  So, I ignored the good advice of my friends and accepted my mother's 'friend request' and then things became awkward.
At first it was 'kind of' ok. When no one responded to one of my posts, my mum would support me by posting encouraging comments like 'I like everything that matthew does'.. yep, it's  just like the encouragement ribbons I used to get at Little Athletics  (cause I was shit at Little Athletics), except this time it is a public post on Facebook by my mother. Anyway, things were reasonably ok, until the phone call. Which went a little like this:

Mum-' Hi, X is sending you a Facebook invite, so just make sure you accept that when it comes through'

Me- 'What??!!, Who is this person??'

Mum- 'you know my friend X...'

Me (becoming a tad hysterical at this point and reverting to a 12 year old)-'MUM! I am NOT accepting friend requests from YOUR friends, OH MY GOD!! My friends told me NOT to accept your friend request and now look what is happening!!!!' 

Mum, a little hurt and puzzled- 'Why would your friends tell you not to be my friend on Facebook??'

Me (hearing the hurt in my mothers voice and now rightfully feeling like complete crap!)- 'Cause you're my mum and it is not cool!!  But I told them I couldn't turn down my mothers friend request...'

Mum (now with some pride in her voice) - 'come on love, just for me, for your mum!'

Me- 'mum, how did they even find me on Facebook (I have my fathers surname and mum has her maiden name'

Mum- 'well.. X doesn't have many friends so I suggested that they add you... go on , for me, for your mum. I did tell them that you would accept the request.'

Me (feeling that I have no choice in the matter, and making sure my mother knows that I am not happy! and no, I didn't stomp about this time) - 'Ok, that  is it!!! no more mum, no MORE!!!!  I will accept their friend request, but I don't want anymore of your friends sending me friend requests, ok??!!

Mum- 'Oh, X is not my friend, X is my neighbour.

I just groan at this point.

The next evening, I call mum and advise that I had accepted her neighbour's friend request... mum responded with, 'oh, I just deleted the request they sent me'.
I flip out 'ARE YOU SERIOUS???????". Mum laughs and says 'I deleted it accidentally, I asked X to resend the request'. I think I ended the call very quickly with, 'Ok mum I have to go, I can't talk to you anymore.' All the while I was asking myself, why I didn't listen to my friends in the first place and not accept my mum's Facebook friend request.


I think my mum secretly delights in driving me crazy, in fact, I wouldn't be surprised if she is writing a blog called 'Things I do to drive my son crazy'.


Many thanks to V.G. for editing!

Inherited craziness

 I am generally saying and thinking the craziest things.... and I think I now know where I get this from...my mum.




This is how the end of a recent phone call with my mum went;


me: 'ok mum, I need to go, I might walk down the street and get some fish and chips for dinner'


Mum: 'Oh!!! Be careful!!!!'


me: 'Mum! It's in my street, I am just literally walking down my street'.


Mum: "It was on the news that someone was almost kidnapped in Pakenham!"
(which according to google search is 72.9 km's away from me),


me: 'Mum, I am just going down the street, I'll be ok'


Mum: I'm just saying be careful, you don't know who is out there!!'

I was going to respond with how I have stacked on the weight and they would need five men from Pakenham to lift me into the back of the van, but I just couldn't continue talking about potentially being kidnapped in my own street.



Now, some people might find this kind of sweet..... but the thing is Mum will likely call me later to make sure I wasn't kidnapped on my way to the fish and chip shop! And If I don't answer the phone she will panic. Now, if I was being kidnapped on my way back home, with fish and chips in hand and mum was around to see this, you can bet your bottom dollar that mum would be telling them off  and probably saying 'At least let him eat his dinner!!!'




What effect has this had on me? I am often thinking crazy things and taking them to insane conclusions, let me share:

Recently a mate was telling me how it was too hot for him to sleep in his house and I suggested, as he lived in the country, he pitch a tent in his backyard and sleep under the stars. He loved the idea and then my mind starts to wander, well if I had a son, how excited would he be if he slept under the stars in the backyard on a hot night!  I saw his big smile and joy beaming from him as he grabbed his torch, teddy bear and child size sleeping bag. Then, I did start to panic a little about mosquitoes and bugs, but calmed down reminding myself about mosquito netting in tents, so my son, wouldn't have to spray carcinogenic bug repellent all over himself...Then as I settle into this calm and lovely thought of my son, happy to be camping in the safety of our backyard, mosquito nets up, him behind that sitting on his child size sleeping bag with torch and teddy bear in hand...all is lovely until I am snapped out of it by 'OMG! what if while my son is sleeping in the backyard on a hot night, some crazy person jumps over our backyard fence and steals him ….. or worse!!!!' I start to hyperventilate, I am really freaking out. After what is surely only a few minutes but seems so much longer,  I somehow manage to calm down as I start to realise that I could stand guard and sleep in the backyard with my son... and then all is well.... well, until I think about how I am a heavy sleeper and my son could be stolen away from right next to me while I am snoring loudly, my loud snores  probably being how the child kidnapper zeroed in, in order to steal my son!!!!!'. It was all because of me!!!!! It was settled then, that NO MATTER WHAT, my son was to sleep indoors with window locks, deadlocks, alarm system and security cameras! ah, I was finally able to heave a huge sigh of relief.


The craziest thing of all is that I have no children.
I am blaming my state of craziness on my mother.
I love you mum.

Being forty and buying underwear with my mum.

One recent rainy day, Mum and I decided to head out to a large shopping centre in the southern suburbs of Melbourne, just to browse and walk about a bit.  Being practical, I thought 'Hmm while I am here, I may as well buy some new underwear as the current stuff is starting to look a little worse for wear and you just never know when you might need to look your best!' So we saunter into a store (dare I let you all know it was 'Best for Less'?? ) and I suggest to mum that she and I browse separately. Mum  just looks at me and says matter of factly, "That's ok, I don't need anything, I'll come with you'.
I, wanting to buy underwear on my own, respond with 'Umm.. don't you need anything at all???.. like, not even to just have a look and see??"
Mum, without missing a heartbeat "No, I'll come with you"
This conversation is taking place as we walk closer and closer to the mens underwear section and I start to panic and get anxious-  "Mum, I need to buy underwear, so... can you go away and look at stuff while I browse?". In fact I think it was fair to say that there was a lot of pleading in my delivery, which mum just ignored as she grabbed some boxer shorts off the rack and said "I'll help you. What about these?" I stood there in silent disbelief. Mum was now peering inside at the tag of the boxers she was holding, then looked up giving my expanding waistline a once over glance and said brightly "Oh these are your size as well!" Sheepishly and as quietly as I could get away with, I looked at the ground and said 'I wear briefs now mum'. "SINCE WHEN???" came mums loud cry. And yes, it was all downhill from there.

I only have myself to blame. Up until a few years back my mum AND my AUNTY brought my underwear for me. ALL of my underwear. You have to understand that having them buy my boxer shorts, singlets and handkerchiefs was an easy out for me ( and yes you read right - handkerchiefs!).  You see my mother is ALWAYS asking 'what do you want for Christmas', seriously, always! One Christmas I recall being disappointed over a gift and mum seeing this and realising what it was I would have preferred said 'did you want me to get that for you, next Christmas?'..Then there was also the questions of, 'your aunty wants to know what you want for Christmas'......You know what, unless it is December, Christmas presents are not on my radar. These Christmas questions never stop, NEVER stop. They only become more frequent as the days get closer to Christmas, by June, you'll receive AT LEAST a weekly 'have you decided what you want for christmas yet?'question. So you can see, by being able to say  'oh, I need underwear' it was an easy out for me... I am not sure why I stopped, I guess I had so much underwear that it was not needed. In fact, I am sure that I had so much that I could have started my own underwear store for men with a 32inch waistline (who like me, might also be slowly but surely edging closer to a size 40)..... anyway, now I am in this awkward pickle.

No one wants to buy underwear with their mum. At least no MAN does. I kept looking at briefs and wondering if they were too fitted or sexualised and what would my mother think of them.... yes I agree, I obviously have issues! Mum did pick up a white pair of trunk-type fitted boxers and asked 'what about these'? Yep, white underwear.... 'Mum, there are reasons why you don't wear white underwear'. She just looks at me perplexed and then innocently asks  'what reasons?'..I think at this point I covered my face with my hands, and lowered my head as I shook it slowly from side to side. I just couldn't have THAT conversation with my mother...and yes, apparently I am a grown man. You see,  I just imagined  my mum saying really loudly, matter of factly and all the while, trying to be helpful 'well, you just need to shake IT properly or wipe yourself properly after you use the toilet! and you won't have that problem!' Yes, my mum is full of great practical advice.

Anyway to make matters worse, after I bravely brought some underwear (and in case you were wondering, I brought some square, loose fitting, genderless, non sexualised underwear that were as far removed as could be from the low hipster tight, form fitting white briefs that seemed to be placed at my mums eye level (we are a short family. I sometimes wonder if we are technically 'tall dwarfs' ), anyway... when we finally got to the cashier to pay for my non sexualised, nondescript undergarments.. my mum pulls out her seniors card and asks if the store gives a seniors discount.... The young sales assistant must have heard it all and responded with a nonchalant 'no sorry',  to which my mother shot this poor girl down with a look of absolute contemptment. Mum then looks over at me and gives me one of those 'Can you believe this??!!' looks. She then lets out a loud unimpressed noise of sorts, then a 'TSK' as she shakes her head from side to side. All the while I was praying for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. I could see the headlines flashing before my eyes, 'forty year old bald man, shopping for underwear with his mother, dies at Best for Less' as the ground opens up beneath him'.

Maybe I should go back to having my mum and aunty buy my underwear for me? But then, knowing my luck they would now want to make an outing of it and we would all go together to shop for my underwear. I suppose if my cousin is off work that day as well, she could join us. Hell, why not have a whole extended family outing to help me buy my underwear? The more the merrier. I'll be forty one by then. I cannot wait.