how parents on Facebook ruin the idea of parenthood for me.

This post is dedicated to Jacob and the endless, sardonic conversations we have about everything, including this topic.

I realize I got a Facebook in high school.  I realize I’m no longer a college student and I still have a Facebook.  Yet I always fall back on the fact that Facebook was invented for college students.  Seeing parents on Facebook weirded me out during college.  Now, much to my dismay (and occasional amusement, such as during sardonic conversation), I have more and more friends or friends of friends, etc., growing up from those college kids with Facebooks to becoming parents.

It seems like you can only tell Facebook No me gusta! so many times before it becomes evident it’s just screwing with you.  Yes, I’m pretty sure Facebook is going I, Robot on us and becoming a machine smarter than the rest of us, knowing us so much better than we do that it can psychologically destroy us with redundant newsfeeds and advertisements about things we don’t gusta!  When you tell it “I don’t want to see this in my newsfeed”, it registers it as “endless baby photos upset her…mwahaha!”.  When you start a relationship, Facebook decides you’re suddenly going to read every update from your significant other, his/her family, his/her extended family, etc., etc., and that suddenly all of your advertisements are going to be about jewelry, wedding discounts, and babies.  NO I WILL NOT BE A PRODUCT OF YOUR ARTIFICAL SOCIETY.  (Well, I will admit I found it pretty funny when my brother kept getting advertisements for gay cruises and finally realized he had haphazardly put “Interested in Men” on his profile.)

But Facebook is only a tool making us realize the things we really don’t care about in life.  And I find the source of most of my frustration revolves around new parents who decide it’s okay to tell us TMI on a daily basis.  So, after reading several articles on this exact topic (Amen, I’m not alone!), I’ve put together my own list of how (new) parents on Facebook drive me crazy and subsequently ruin the idea of parenthood for me:

1. Ultrasounds

It looks like an alien, and I don’t understand who needs to see pictures of your insides who couldn’t just look at them at the next family event.

2. Pregnancy Updates

Please, tell me more about how you threw up again today, or what you’re craving, or whatever weird, gross pregnancy thing you have to share with us all (TMI!).

3. Hospital Pictures

Pretty sure I’ve covered most of these before.  I hate hospital pictures.  You look gross, your baby looks really gross, and I consider it a private affair.  You could at least wash the thing off a few (hundred) times first.

4. Baby Pictures

Okay, cool, it’s a baby.  You think it’s way cuter than the general public because it’s related to you.  It also has an egghead, hardly opens its eyes, and it’s totally not capable of making a beer run so what’s the use in having one of those around?  Just get a cat.  They at least feed themselves.

5. Real-Time Updates

I’ve definitely written about this before.  Do new mothers even realize how much danger they put their children in by posting every damn thing about them to the internet?  What they wear, what they ate, and everything is geotagged now.  Yeah, even if you think it isn’t, trust me – I know how to pull up Geotag codes on Instagram and other photos with embedded information.  Chances are, I can find your house and the exact room you took your picture in within a minute.  And I am very much technology illiterate, so just imagine the possibilities.  And maybe some folks live vicariously through you, but what are your children going to think in a few years when they have their own Facebook and pull up the archives?  Probably something like, “Way to go, mom, I officially hate my life.”

And now for the big finale….

6. Counting Ages in Months

I remember the first time I saw “24 months” and I kind of stopped for a moment and thought, Wait, that’s divisible by 12…. ((cue Lavon Hayes NO imitation)) Naw, NAW,….NAWWWW!  It should be an official rule that children’s ages may NOT be counted in months after 18 months of age.  I read online a woman who will count her child’s age up to five years in months.  FIVE YEARS.  Because “five months makes a huge difference when you’re five”.  UMM, yeah and also every child develops differently so a 21-month-old and a 35-month-old might have the same linguistic skills but different motor abilities.  NO.  I just cannot take it seriously, counting a child’s age in months.  It’s completely ridiculous.  It’s a sign of “This is my first time!  I have no idea what I’m doing!”  Or at least that’s what most of my sardonic conversations conclude.  I just…can’t even.

Also, what is WITH these new personalized chairs?  I have seen so many new mothers with these miniature sofas with their kids’ names on it.  Great, I have an idea – let’s get a gift with the child’s name on it so that only they can use it (because it’s personalized), and it will only last them as long as they can fit into it (probably a few years),….and it will be perfect to set up in front of the television so they can begin their long lives as sponge-brained byproducts of this lazy, overpopulated world…….

Okay, I’m done.  It’s snowing, and I like the snow because there aren’t any babies in snow.  Or, if there are, you can’t see them because they were dropped and buried in it.  😛

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