Snoopy McSnooperstein

I would like to point out right away that I was not snooping on purpose. Oh, I was snooping, but it was because the opportunity to do so kinda fell in my lap. Like, when you find a dollar on the street. You don’t walk around looking for dollars on the street, but when one presents itself, you’d be a dumbass not to take it.

And, quite frankly, even if I were looking to snoop, it would be my right seeing as how I carried her for nine months and went through 26 hours of labor (24 without drugs) and pushed her out in 53 minutes which, I’m told, is a Herculean-like feat for a first time pusher.

And really, let’s blame Facebook. And Farmville while we’re at it. It’s not my fault that Kali got bored with Farmville after a week forcing me to log in to her Facebook account and tend to her farm because really, I take my farming very fucking seriously. And, and, and, it’s not my fault Facebook allows two people to be logged in to the same account from separate laptops thus allowing me to see everything that is going on with her account in real time.

Note: So, if you are a parent looking for a way to snoop, there you have it. You’re welcome. And don’t feel bad, damnit. It is your God-given right!

Usually, I give Kali a heads-up that I am logging in to her account so she can log out. It is so annoying to have her little chat boxes popping up when I’m trying to harvest my crops. A grown ass woman can only take but so much OMGs and LOLs and my personal favorite, OMGCYBI?!!111!?

Last night I didn’t tell her I was logging in because I planned on being in and out. I posted a feather collection and I wanted her to snatch one. (Don’t judge me!) So, there I am waiting for Farmville to load when a chat box pops up. (I’d also like to point out that Kali has about 12 chat boxes minimized at the bottom of her screen. I honestly don’t know how she does it.)

So, this chat box pops up and it’s from a little boy in her class. Let’s call him “David.” And I’m pretty sure he’s the little boy pulled from school early the day Obama gave his speech to students and he told Kali, “My parents don’t like Obama and black people.”

Fucking lovely. Tell me again how this sudden surge in anti-government/anti-Obama rhetoric is not about race at all.

Anyway, the box pops up and little David says…

“Xena says that you think I like you cause I keep sending you game invites.”

Note: I am totally going to correct the spelling in the retelling because typing all of those “u’s” and ur’s” gave me a headache.

And Kali says….

“Um, no.”

“Oh, ok. Because no offense, but I don’t like you like that.”

Well, fuck you, little twerp.

He continues…

“Can I ask you a question? Do you like me and do you like anyone in our class?”

And my girl replies…

“Um, that sounds like two questions and the answer to both is no.”

My daughter is fucking awesome!

“OK. Well, can I tell you who I do like?”

“Sure.”

“You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“I swear.”

“Destiny.”

“WOW. I didn’t see that coming.”

Neither did I, ’cause not for nothing, Destiny sounds like a black girl’s name and I can bet mini-David Duke’s parents ain’t having it. I should probably point out that – in case this is your first time on my site – I am black, my husband is white and Kali looks white. Like, could totally pass if she wanted to. Thankfully, she doesn’t.

Then he clarifies….

“The white one, not the black one.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

At this point, my daughter starts a new chat with another friend.

“I KNOW WHO DAVID LIKES!!!”

When I tell this to Donny his response is, “Our daughter is trifling.”

“I know, right?”

What follows is five minutes of this kid trying to get my daughter to admit that she likes ANYONE in their class and my daughter telling him she doesn’t. Either that, or it was five minutes of Kali realizing I was in her account and not setting herself up for an ass-whipping.

So, Donny posts a gold egg and I go to Kali’s home page to get one. (Hey, what did I say about the judging!?) And I see this status update from one of her other friends. We’ll call her “Angela.”

“I love my boyfriend soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much!”

OMGCYBI!?!?11?!

Another little girl leaves a comment asking, “Who is your boyfriend?” And I’m guessing Angela tells her privately because dumbass comes back and leaves another comment saying, “Harrison? Really?” (We’re just gonna call him “Harrison.”)

Then, a few comments down, Harrison weighs in…

“And I have the best girlfriend ever!”

People, these kids are TEN. TEN! 10. 1-0. One-Zero. Just barely into double fucking digits ten!

At this point, I’m ready to chime in that these kids need Jesus, but I’d be doing so under Kali’s name thus ensuring she will never have friends or a boyfriend of her own… and suddenly, the idea doesn’t seem so bad.

“Nina! Log out of her account. Stop being nosy. You’re invading her privacy!”

“Are you new? She doesn’t have privacy! She’s ten! Also, she knows that I do this. I warned her. If she says or does something she knows I wouldn’t like, then she wants to get caught!”

Then an IM pops up from a little girl we shall call “Megan.” I don’t like Megan. Megan is grown and mean. Megan wears inappropriate clothes and influenced some inappropriate internet activity over a year ago. Megan’s partner-in-crime, a boy we shall call “Pete”, also sent Kali a Facebook friend request which I promptly “ignored.” She’s lucky I let her be Megan’s friend online… but only because I monitor.

So, I’ve seen IMs from Megan before and I can just tell what kind of teen she’s going to be. She’s going to be like all the girls I hated in junior high school and high school: catty, petty, jealous, boy-crazy, and sometimey. I want Kali to learn early that that isn’t the way to be. More importantly, I want her to learn how to not give a fuck when girls around her are that way. So far, it’s a hard lesson to drive home.

I scroll back and read the conversation from earlier that evening. Several times Megan referred to people or things as being “gay” which reinforced my belief that she’s a bitch-in-training. The rest of the conversation was her having a hissy fit because Kali wasn’t writing her back fast enough even when Kali explained several times that she wasn’t feeling well and even when Kali explained that she had been away from her laptop eating dinner.

“Fine. If you don’t write me back in five seconds, I am never talking to you again,” she wrote at one point when Kali was in the bathroom.

“5….4….3….2….”

“What?”

“Too late. BYE KALI!”

“Wait! What are you talking about?”

“I told you, you had five seconds to answer and you didn’t.”

“I was in the bathroom.”

‘Whateva.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I typed,

“Goodbye, Megan!”

What I wanted to type was, “Goodbye, bitch,” but I’m adult and she’s ten and I ain’t tryna go to jail. It’s 9pm now and Kali’s laptop shuts off automatically. I hear her in the other room playing with Jack, but Megan is still typing away – threatening Kali that she’ll never speak to her again if she doesn’t answer her RIGHT NOW. Then, out of the blue, she asks…

“Have you ever kissed a girl?”

“Megan, this is Kali’s mother. Her laptop is off. She is not allowed online after 9pm. She is getting ready for school tomorrow.”

Like your little ass needs to be.

“Oh. OK. I’m sorry.”

Donny turns to me, “Do you feel better now?”

“No.”

I will feel better when Megan is no longer around my daughter in any capacity. I will feel better when we move in two weeks and Kali is in a new school and can start over. Oh, I’m sure the ten-year-olds in the new school are no different/better, but still.

I will feel better when I know that Kali realizes that calling something “gay” isn’t cool. I will feel better when Kali realizes that having a boyfriend at ten is out of the fucking question. I will feel better when Kali realizes that a ten-year-old girl asking another ten-year-old girl if she’s ever kissed a girl or boy is inappropriate. I will feel better when little David is old enough to decide for himself if he’s going to be a racist fuckstick or a decent human being so I don’t have to worry about my daughter associating with him in any fashion.

And that’s just a start.

Question of the Week: Why Can’t The Haitians Help Themselves?

So, I’ve been seeing the following message floating around Facebook statuses:

Shame on you America: the only country where we have homeless without shelter, children going to bed without eating, elderly going without needed meds, and mentally ill without treatment – yet we have a benefit for the people of Haiti on 12 TV stations. 99% of people won’t have the guts to copy and repost this.

So, my question of the week is, “What the fuck?”

At least that was my first reaction. Then, after sleeping on it, I wondered if a handful of people on Facebook feel this way, how many others do as well?

Personally, I think there’s a huge difference between a country that can (and has) help itself, but because of indifference, bureaucracy, and plain ole human nature, doesn’t always live up to its promise and potential and a country banding together to help an already impoverished country struck by a national disaster.

If you feel like more should be done at home, do it. You can’t blast the rest of the country for having compassion for a devastated country if you’re not writing elected officials to voice your concerns about health care reform or donating clothing and food to the homeless.

I understand the frustration behind the post. Our country has a ton of its own problems, but I think the comparison is way off base.

What do you think?

Mommy Monday: Facebook Fiend

It was bound to happen. Just a few short weeks after getting Kali a laptop for Christmas, she now has a Facebook account.

Thanks to Windows 7, we’ve been able to closely monitor not just her internet use, but everything she does while on the computer. So, she won’t be tempted to stay up late doing God knows what while we sleep, we have a timer set so that the laptop shuts off at 9pm on school nights and 11pm on the weekends. Only games of a certain ESRB rating are allowed to be played/installed and as the administrator I watch her browser history with Dick Cheney-like hawkishness.

(She’s also kinda under the impression that every night her laptop emails my laptop a complete video of everything she did on the computer that day.)

The fact that she has since joined the Facebook fray is totally my fault. It all began when I would ask her to log in to my Farmville and Petville accounts to harvest my crops and clean my apartment. What?! It’s not my fault Zynga has yet to install the upgrade where you can peruse the local Home Depot for Mexican day workers!

Like all oppressed, she started grumbling about reaping the benefits for herself. Why can’t I have my own farm with neighbors and stuff? Why, indeed.

So, I let her have an account under the rules that I will accept all of her friend requests, read her emails, and get first crack at her golden eggs when she posts them. Don’t judge me.

I made my status updates invisible to her and only sent out friend requests to family and friends that didn’t post questionable content. Of course, it has recently come to my attention that one family member in particular got super offended when  they were excluded from Kali’s friends list and I’ve since been defriended. Ain’t the first time, won’t be the last.

But that’s the beauty of being the boss of your own kids. You get to make the calls, rules, and decisions. They may not always be popular with others, but my motto is, “They’ll be aight.”

I’m afraid, though, that I’ve created quite the Facebook monster. Kali is kinda obsessed with two features: quizzes and Facebook chat. The latter has gotten out of control. She can be sitting across the room when suddenly:

Sometimes, it comes in handy:

And my child has never met a quiz she didn’t like.

What kind of Miley Cyrus song are you?

Who are you more like: Miley Cyrus or Selena Gomez?

Is your name nerdy?

But my favorite:

Needless to say, I can’t stop calling her Butter Nuts.