When we first got a computer—and the internet—my sister and I pitched a fit. At age 8, I was sure that this thing called the “web” my mother was so engrossed with, was a passing fad. My mother has always been technologicaly minded, I mean the woman was getting New Zealand pen pals for her fifth grade class in ‘97. Now she’s assigned homework to 11-year-olds via her webpage and getting her class to create podcasts. Which is why, in this day and age, it is a bit easier for my mom to keep tabs on my whereabouts day in and day out.

I’ll have to admit that I’m horrible about calling home. For the most part, my life is just so damn busy and by the time I think to call, its way past their bed time. Fortunately for my mother (who has just learned to text… she never could get cell phones) she can harass me lovingly in about five different technological forms.

Point in case:

Mom 6/6/07 10:28 am: Hi call me!

Mom 6/6/07 1:33 pm: Please call me and let me know how u r!

I’m at the age now where I find my mother’s texts and blog comments endearing rather than annoying. But while reading the New York Times, I came across this article where a mother joined facebook much to the chagrin of her 16-year-old daughter. I can remember being that age, talking to my long distance boyfriend on IM, looking over my shoulder to make sure my mother’s back was still turned. In the day when families had computers to share, I was weary of my mother’s desire to see what I was reading or her questions as to why I was on the computer for hours every night. I can’t imagine if I had had facebook or myspace back then and the way I would have felt if she had joined as well.

Now I understand the mother’s point of view, “Can’t I explore my identity too? Why does everything fun have to be for them?” But there was a time, not too long ago, when I could see her daughter’s: “Everyone in the whole world thinks it’s super creepy when adults have facebook profiles.”

So for now, I will let my mom in on my life via the web. I don’t really care to tell her about my sex life, but if she feels the need to know then I won’t stop her from reading. After all, she’s only attempting to understand the going-ons of her daughter, and her friend, that she is just now really getting to know.