My mom called me the other day to ask if I needed any of my sheets washed because she is doing a round of linens. No, I don’t live at home, that’s just my mom being all mommylike. Then she said something that struck a fear in me like no other, “I was on your LinkedIn yesterday to see what you were doing. You’re so cute!”
Only a mom would think something as drab and dull as a LinkedIn profile was “cute.” There’s nothing peculiar on my LinkedIn profile, it’s just work stuff but having my mom snoop around my internet life makes me queasy. I refused to be friends with my mom on Facebook because c’mon! That’s like if your life was Friends and your mom was Phoebe, you know? Facebook is for your “friends” and having your mom on there means you’re always hanging out with your mom. I’m not into that.
My mom isn’t internet savvy at all and regularly asks me how to get to Google but I still don’t like the idea of her knowing what I am doing online and I think that stems from the fear of her (or my dad or brother or family member) knowing who I really am.
When I Google my name what comes up is actually a pretty decent online portfolio. It’s all my author pages of the publications I’ve written for, my Twitter, my personal website, 4 pictures of me and a picture of 50 Cent for some reason. Of course I’ve written about the questionable things I’ve done like drugs, stealing or being unkind but I don’t think my mom would ever look hard enough to find those things.
My fear, I guess, is that my parents will realize I’m not a robot who just gets straight As and sits around reading Signet classics. One day they’re going to find out I’m no virgin (sorry, dad!) in any sense of the word and their trust in me and my safety will disintegrate like Pop Rocks hitting the tongue. This probably isn’t true. They probably won’t care at all. They’re not the kind of parents who have ever placed conditions on their love and support of me but it feels comfortable and safe to be viewed as my parents’ baby girl, even if when they treat me that I way iI stomp my feet and say, “I’m twenty-three! I’m not a little girl!”
It’s not that I want to be coddled. My parents don’t financially support me or baby me, it’s that they’re worry warts and freak out whenever they hear I am even using public transportation. Their minds exploded when I studied abroad in a country as banal as England and they still look at me funny when I am out and about at 8PM because “it’s dangerous.”
In my head it just easier if my parents think I am a goody-good and don’t have a real life but I wonder how true that is. I wonder what my parents’ really think of me. They’re not stupid. They must know I am a neurotic weirdo who urinates in public and stole mascara when she was eleven.
Do you guys ever fear your parents knowing too much about you?
[Shutter Stock / doglikehorse ]