I have enough reasons to pen a book, but I’ll stick to the essentials. Foremost, I’m married to the military. That means every 2-4 years my family, my life, and my hard-earned friendships are packed into boxes and shipped to the next assignment. My constants are my husband, my daughter, my cat, my possessions - and Facebook. When I need an empathetic ear or want to share the new “artwork” my daughter added to the wall, all I do is log on and type away.
Without Facebook, this blog would not exist. A little over a year ago I did some Facebook meandering (read: mild stalking) and stumbled across Dana. My dear, elementary school pal, Dana. The girl I used to go swimming with and have sleepovers with and play softball with (her dad was our coach!). After a timid “Hi, are you who I think you are?” we refreshed our friendship. We both enjoyed reading each other’s status updates and discussed creating a blog expanding those 420 character limits. 18 Years to Life was born!
And I cannot omit the pro-parent aspect of Facebook. When we were switching our daughter over from infant carrier to stationary car seat I put out an Information Call on my status and within an hour I had at least 20 experienced Mommy answers waiting for me – with links. Forget Google!
But it’s not just about information gathering – it’s also about connecting. If your child is in the tub and you hear, “Oohhhh…a submarine,” (when there is NO SUCH toy in the bathroom) you go in, remove the “floater,” drain the tub, and sanitize the child. Then you walk to your computer to tell the world. Why? Because you want to know you’re not the only person who’s fished a turd out of a soapy bathtub full of impossible-to-clean toys. And, thanks to Facebook, within an hour you’ll have a dozen parent's similar Tub Poop-Capade Tales. And just as many thumbs ups.