What To Do If Your Husband Joins Facebook

My husband is all over my arse lately and not in the "feed my beaver" type of way if you catch my drift. That would be a happy thing. No, this way is more in the "I've eyes in the back of my head and even though I'm over 600 kms away, I want to know your every move because I miss you sooooo much" type of way.

Which is definitely more annoying. Er, I mean, thoughtful and romantic. Oh, who am I kidding? Definitely annoying.

You see, I've been online for four and a half years now and I've never had his prying blue eyes reading over my shoulder. It's worked out well for the two of us, and likely saved our marriage on more than one occasion. I can tweet, facebook and blog knowing my husband could for the most part, care less about what I was doing.

As long as I'm not posing naked for the ole interwebs, he's happy in his ignorance.

(Which should make telling him that I am posing naked for a bloggers calendar all that much more interesting. Heh. I'm doing it for charity honey. Really.)

It's not like my husband never had any interest in my online life. He's a curious dude. He has a (basically defunct) twitter account that he uses to occasionally pop in and check on my profile. He has been known to read a blog post. Heck, every now and then when I'm on television he'll even watch it or dvr it so he can watch it later.

But he's left Facebook alone, emphatically stating that all things FB are evil and a tool of the devil. He was morally opposed to opening his own account and heaven help me if I so much as mentioned his real name online.

Then his children hopped online under my heavy-handed supervision and now suddenly, things have changed.

I opened my email a few nights ago and there sitting in my inbox was a friendship request from Facebook. From my husband.

I about dropped dead of shock.

So I did the only thing I could think of. I called him.

"I got a really weird email today, Boo," I blurted out as soon as he answered his cell.

"Ya? Someone asked if you wanted a Russian bride? Because I'm okay with that. I'd prefer you get yourself a tall buxom redhead, but that may be too specific for one of those mail-order-bride sites. Just make sure whoever she is, she has all her teeth and doesn't hog the bed."

"Very funny. Just how do you know how specific one of those mail-order-bride sites may be? Spend some time window shopping have we?"

"Nah. I just know from what other people tell me. I plead the fifth. Hey look over there! Is that a bear?"

"Like you could handle two wives anyway. But it's nice you have a vivid imagination."

"Didn't you call me to tell me about your weird email?"

"Oh ya! My email. Hey, have you been online lately?"

"Ya, a little here and there. Why?"

"Weird. I thought someone may have stolen your computer and impersonated you online. I got a friend request from Facebook. From YOU. I know that can't be right."

"Nope, it's right. I broke down and joined finally."

"WHY?? I thought you said Facebook was a tool of the devil, a malignant time suck on the butt of humanity, a waste of -"

Laughing, Boo interrupted my rant. "It still is all of those things, but I want to keep a closer eye on the kids while I'm gone."

"Oh." Then I bristled. "Why? Are my two eyes not enough? I practically live online. I watch them like the kittens eye our aquarium. Continuously and nonstop. Don't you trust me? I've been doing this parenting gig solo for almost five years now, Bub, and I haven't -"

"Woah there, cowgirl. Simmer down. That's not what I meant."

"Oh. Sorry. I was just starting to enjoy that rant though."

"I could tell. No, I joined because the kids mentioned a game they like to play on there so I thought I'd check it out. It's kind of a cool game after all. Now I can spend some time with the kids online, while I'm away from home."

"Oh."

"I thought you'd be happy about this. I joined the dark side. I'm engaging with our kids even when I'm not home. It's a win-win I thought."

Silence.

"Tanis?"

"No, no. It's a good thing. A great thing. You are a fantastic dad. The kids will be thrilled."

"I hear a 'but' in there."

"It's just, ack, this is going to sound bad."

"Spit it out."

"It's just, this is my world. It was bad enough I had to rearrange everything when your kids joined Facebook. I cleaned out my friends, tightened up the privacy. I liked it when it was all mine. When I didn't have to share."

"Why, so you could flirt with all your internet boyfriends in peace?"

"EXACTLY. Now I won't be able to post those nude pictures I took of myself anymore."

"Very funny. You post those pics even though your kids are on your account?"

"Hey, they are proud their mom is an internet porn star."

"Very funny."

"Thank you. I try."

"Well, I'm on, and there is no going back now. I already have seven friends."

"Already? Sheesh. You move fast."

"I've never heard you complain about that before, darling," he drawled. I could just picture him waggling his eyebrows and leering as he said it.

"Well, I'm not going to friend you right away. I don't think I'm ready for Facebook marriage just yet. This is just moving too quickly for me."

"Oh, give me a break." Now I could picture him rolling his eyes at me in annoyance. Thirteen years of marriage and all.

"I kinda like people thinking you are Mr. Redneck Mommy. Or Boo Miller. Now people will know you are own man. It doesn't jive with the reality I've set up in my head."

"You are nuts."

"You knew that about me before you married me. In fact, I recall people warning you about that very fact before you forgot to buy condoms all those years ago."

"Remind me again why I love you?"

"I'm bendy."

"Right."

Our conversation dawdled on after that, but about more pressing matters like how my pool is leaking, Jumby's wheelchair is still broken and how our deep freezer is still unusable. You know, typical married stuff that made both of us yawn and get off the phone as fast as we could.

Later that night, I logged onto Facebook just to check out his account.

Yep. There he was. Mr. I-have-a-real-name-and-it's-not-the-one-my-wife-uses-because-she-refuses-to-change-her-name in all his Facebook glory, but without a profile picture because he is apparently making one last bastion of rebellion about giving away all his privacy.

I shut the computer off without friending him. It's still pending in my inbox, a reminder that Facebook truly is the devil's playground.

*So, do I or don't I? I'm fairly convinced that I'm the world's worst wife if I don't, yet I'm also equally convinced that this is a bad idea. Help?*

Beavers and Beer, oh my!

It's Canada Day up here in the Great Northern Tundra and there are few things more important to a Canadian than our national day of pride.

Okay, there are lots of things more sacred (hockey, beer, a good toque and God Himself being just a few of those things) but for today, the day we all wear red and white with pride and bleed maple syrup we focus on the patriotic pride.

There are a lot of reasons to love Canada. We have universal healthcare and no matter what American pundits would have you think, this is a good thing. Especially when you have a chronically ill handicapped child who likes to enjoy our local children's hospitals as a vacation destination.

We Canadians aren't so very different from Americans. Sure we think that any beer with less than 6% alcohol is for sissies and the elderly, but really. Isn't it? Yes, we design our kids halloween costumes around their snowsuits, and we trot them out to go trick or treating in a blizzard, but that just makes us a hardy people.

Up here in Canada, where our money looks funny and we say Zed instead of Zee, we treasure our national animal, the beaver. We regularly go beaver hunting and let me tell you, stroking a beaver pelt is one of life's true pleasures.

The beaver. It is a noble beast. Heh.

We gave the world Wayne Gretzky, William Shatner and Micheal J. Fox. Of course, we also are responsible for Celine Dion and Justin Bieber but I like to think the musical contributions of Nickelback more than makes up for those atrocities.

Heh.

From sea to shining sea, we are a people united by junk drawers everywhere filled with Canadian Tire money. We may have two official languages but every English speaking child has an extensive education in bilingual cereal packaging. They all know the French equivalents for 'free, prize and no sugar added.'

And no matter what language you speak up here in Canada, either French or English, there is always the universal phrase, 'Eh.' It's a conversational device that allows us to turn any phrase we say into an opinion poll without seeming pushy. Which works well with us Canadians being such a nice people, eh?

The things I'll have photoshopped for my country.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like Canada is perfect. We have our foibles. Our politicians are boring, our politics are polite and our weather is harsh.

But there is nothing better than watching hockey on a cold winter's night and cheering for Team Canada, the greatest hockey team in the world while humming the theme song to Hockey Night in Canada.

And if that doesn't keep a Canadian warm during our long winter nights as the aurora borealis dances in our skies, then watching our American friends serenade us with our national anthem after losing a hockey bet certainly will.



It's good to be Canadian.

Happy Canada day to all my readers. Here's to Canadian beavers and our beer. Cheers.

I Was Beat From A Branch of My Family Tree

When I stood beside my husband, in a small church before our entire families, I never really gave much thought to what I was doing. I was almost five months pregnant and I was just happy my white dress hadn't split down the side seams.

When I promised to have and to hold, to love and to cherish my husband it never occurred to me that I wasn't just making that promise to my husband but to every member in his family.

I hadn't quite realized at that stage in the game that I wasn't just marrying Boo but I was in fact hitching myself to his entire family.

Luckily for me, his family happened to be my kind of people.

A cousin's motor home. They rolled in and small children screamed.

It felt just like being at home.

Family reunions are a novel concept to me. My side of the family tree just doesn't get together unless someone is about to be buried. Even then we don't get together without whining about having to see long lost relatives. I've got cousins I've never even met and couldn't identify out of a line up.

Boo's family actually know each other and for the most part they seem to like one another.

It was like being in the twilight zone only with more beer and hugs.

It was interesting to watch my husband's family interact with one another. No one was swearing, there were no fistfights and no cops were called.  I kept hearing this weird unidentifiable sound and I was shocked to learn it was laughter.

Suddenly, I was Dorothy and I wasn't in Kansas anymore.

I somehow found myself strapped to a board spilling a bucket of water all over myself. Because what says family bonding more than mocking and laughing at your relatives as they prove they make arses of themselves in games of sport?



There was a rousing game of pass the baby, the object being who could snag the newest member of the family and hold her the longest. Sadly, I didn't win this game but not for trying. This family is apparently filled with baby-hungry women whose uteruses ached slightly with each quiet coo and sweet smile the chubby child would bestow.

It was Jumby's first reunion since joining our family and he too, made his mark. Literally. He bit my boob three times and my neck twice.

Of course, no reunion would be complete without having to try and explain what exactly it is that I do for a living. I quickly gave up trying to explain what a blogger was and how I made any money and went with the old standby:

"I write about my boobs and the pay is pretty good."

Of course, right about then my husband would roll his eyes and wish for a sock to stuff in my mouth.

There were moments my heart would crack and my breath would stop. Moments when I looked around and noticed how the children had all grown, and how there are new children. I couldn't stop but wonder what my Bug would look like now if he were still alive. Family events like these tend to make Boo and I misty eyed for the boy who once was.

Still, the joy outweighed the sadness and a good time was had by all. As I sat and watched the generations of this family mingle and laugh as they reminisced and created new memories, I was struck by how glad I am to be able to give this gift of family to my children.

They learned this weekend their roots run deep and they are surrounded by people who will always share this moment in time with them.

They may have also learned that their mother is gullible and easily tricked into being whacked on the head with a wooden spoon.



Which, of course, explains the stunned look on my face in our family picture. My brains were still rattling.

Darn in-laws. They'll get you every time when you aren't looking.