Like for a like


I’ve been wondering all week what to write next about The Rose. There have been so many shards of possibility but not enough for my questionable writing skills to shape into anything remotely amusing or insightful.

Then tonight – just as I was leaving work (checking in on Facebook to see what others are doing/eating/getting cross about, before the weekend envelopes me) and The Rose’s status popped up (as it incessantly does) – asking for a ‘Like’ in return for a comment about looks/loves/life.

It used to wind me up so much.  Her involvement with her computer. She was obsessed, searching for football trivia and Googling rude words. We used to limit her time -thinking we were helping her socialise and sometimes we’d ban her computer time altogether if she’d been particularly vile that day. She was always bereaved by this amputation, isolated and so sooooooooooooo angry. We didn’t understand.

But since her diagnosis of Aspergers a year or so ago, her computer is her going out, staying in and chat room. Facebook has become her world. Of course we don’t ban her anymore, not now we know – that would be like putting a typical person in solitary confinement or taking away my ipod.

She has 875 friends (I know, I know), is articulate, connected and unconfused by social cues. True she makes enormous gaffs and misses some very obvious ovations and insults sometimes, but generally she puts 100% effort into her Facebook social life and the results show, she feels like a Prom Queen.

And the great thing is… I get to join in. That is when she’s not blocking me or deleting my comments.

I have gradually accepted that I am an embarrassing Mum. And just because she relies on me in real life to help her through the real world – she damn well doesn’t need me in her virtual world, where she is mate, friend, confident and hot chick.

So now I try to just keep a watching eye and have learned not to get involved.

Except tonight I just couldn’t help myself. Her status was asking for a ‘Like’ in return for a ‘true’ comment’ about what she really thought.

Now I’ve been on the receiving end of The Rose’s honesty all my life….

   Me = “How do I look in this dress The Rose?”

The Rose = “Fat Mum, you’re too old”

   “I’ve made chicken curry just for you” (no one else in the family eats meat)

“ Oh God Mum, yours taste weird. I like the ones from Tesco”

   “We can’t go to Pizza Express this week. It’s just a bit too expensive to keep doing it”

“Why aren’t we rich? I hate YOU”

So it was with a little trepidation but with more of an impish impulse of curiosity, that I hit the blue touch paper of ‘Like’ on her status and stood back.

Within seconds she’s deleted the status completely.

It was a fair cop, caught red handed and bang to rights. Snooping. Shamed. Then,  just as I was shutting down the computer a few minutes later, ready to go home, she posted a special status – just for me.

This is it –spelling and all:

mum, i dont know where to start, your the best mum ever. your always there and i know in your heart of hearts i can be a real handle and im sorry i cause so much stress sometimes. i will cope with it mum i will. i dont mean to make you angry. ALL i want you al know is that your the best mum ever and i love you with all my heart. your a real superstar at everything you do. work is shit sometimes for you i know but when you come home you still have that fab smile on your gorgeous face. i know when you get home i can be a real knob to you:( but i want you to understand i dont mean to be. i love you forever and ever. i promise i’ll get through this and come out the otherside of the tunnel as a better/less angry people. love you mummy ♥♥♥

I don’t need 875 friends The Rose. I have you.