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And that’s “like” my mom, as in on Facebook. You can do it because she now has a fan page. Her very own fan page not started by her or myself. At last count she had 36 “likes.”

This is weird.

It started this week when I was a guest on The Tome Show. There I was, holed away in a conference room called The Myst at the WotC offices, hanging out on Skype talking to Jeff and Tracy. I super loved Tracy already–she’s otherwise known as Sarah Darkmagic. After my 32 minute call with Jeff, I now love him too. Anyway, they asked if Judy (my mom) had a fan club. I said no, but she should as she has enough admirers– first on the list being herself. Apparently while we were talking Jeff remedied this situation by created a fan page on Facebook for her appropriately called “Judy.”

Publically, I laughed. Oh, that’s rich! I said. My mom having her own fan page on Facebook! Oh, ha ha! She’ll love that! Secretly I thought she was going to sue me. For real this time. You see, Judy is very private. She hates having her picture taken. Hates being the center of attention (unless it’s her birthday), and most definitely hates the idea of a website that airs all your dirty laundry and posts pictures of it too. That’s how she views Facebook– a menacing, dark force that barges into your life, goes through your underwear drawer, finds embarrassing pictures of you from the 80’s, or in your bathing suit, or sporting a rocking camel-toe (that it no doubt Photoshopped,) and posts them so the WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD CAN SEE.  Facebook is not a safe place for her. In fact, Facebook is her worst nightmare. (Next to spending 1 hour in a cinderblock, windowless room with my cat.)

And then the strangest thing happened. She got curious.

It started innocently enough with her standing behind my brother or I while we were trolling our news feeds.

“Can those people see us?” she asked, hiding behind my brother.

“No, Mom. It’s just a website. Can the Barefoot Contessa see you when you’re reading one of her recipes?”

That gave her pause. Could the Barefoot Contessa see her?

And then she’d come a little bit closer.

“Is that Roxy?” she’d ask. “Where is she?”

And closer.

“Is that Nina’s baby? I want to see him.”

And then all up in our business.

“You should tell Laura to get an area rug for that room. She needs something to anchor the space.”

Eventually my brother gave her his log in information so she could feel free to troll his newsfeed when he wasn’t trying to. That worked quite well until she got cocky and started posting things on my wall forgetting she was actually “him.”


My brother changed his password and created an alias account for her. I can’t tell you her alias name because she has sworn me to secrecy. But she does pop up on my wall sometimes with links to recipes she thinks I’ll enjoy or “likes” on my statuses or even the occasional comment on a photo.


She’s pretty easy to spot as she’s the only friend I have who won’t use the shift key.

So, you see why I was scared about her fan page. It was HER fan page– not an alias fan page. What if her “fans” started posting pictures of her in a bathing suit or announcing to the WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD that she’s allergic to vitamin C or keeps up with the Kardashians. I thought about not telling her.

But then I did because I have a terrible habit of spilling my guts to her. When will I learn??? But I figured she had a right to know. And Jeff made me an admin so worst case scenario I could delete the page.

And then the second strangest thing happened.

“Tell me again what happened?” she insisted, making me repeat myself at least 8 times.Then she made me wait on the phone while she told my dad.

“Tom! I have a fan page! Facebook likes me!”

Then she made me wait on the phone while she looked up her fan page. Relieved there were no pictures of her in bathing suits she geeked over the fact that 7 people “liked” her.

“But can they see me?” she asked.

“Only what you want them to see.”

“Can they read everything I write?”

“Only what you want them to read.”

I even offered to pull a Cyrano for her and write the posts that she could channel through me. But alas, she wanted nothing to do with it.

“Oh no, she said. This is my fan page. They want to hear from me.”

So I made her an admin and with little explanation of what that meant she was off.


You’re here for them??? Hello! This is Facebook! This is my very private mommy! This is the woman who blows a gasket every time someone writes a review of my book and calls her “overbearing” or “pushy.” Now she’s welcoming her adoring public with all capital letters? Who was this woman?

In the time that it’s taken me to write this she has garnered 3 new fans. One of them being my brother who isn’t even a fan of his sister! His sister who made his mother a star! So why not you? Go on, jump on the Judy bandwagon. And ask her advice. (Hint: It will always result in the answer “Make brownies.”) But please do not post any photos of her. She’s like a newly domesticated feral cat we don’t want to scare back into the wild.

Not yet, anyway.

Shelly Mazzanoble

3 Replies to “Like My Mom”

  1. I know Facebook is the wave of the future, but I just can’t seem to ride this wave. As a teacher, I think its too dangerous for us to use. I’d be too tempted to tell people what really goes on in public education. I could just see myself rage post after a conference with a crazy parent and getting caught. We just had someone in our building get reprimanded for criticizing a colleague on Facebook. Apparently, one her “friends” ratted her out. But it looks fun!

  2. Aw, Shelly. I was a little worried that it might have been too much but I’m glad to hear it’s worked out so far. She’s awesome and I’m glad she could tell that we did it out of love.

  3. Oh no, Tracy, she’s all over it! She’s even posting things, which is huge for her. She’s been a bit under the weather this past week but I’m sure she’ll be back to her buttinsky self in no time.

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