#greatshot

Dear friends,

I’m one of the those parents who brags about my kids on Facebook. If this annoys you, I’m sorry. I can’t help myself. Consider it a symptom of an almost empty-nester. Maybe I’ll lay off for a few years after Parker moves out, but I’m sure I’ll be a prolific grandparent bragger as soon as the opportunity presents itself. (But please, opportunity, don’t present yourself too soon.)

The good news is I am friendly to other braggy parents and grandparents. I never get annoyed and I almost always leave “Great job!” and “Congratulations!” comments on other parents’ posts. (And I’m not just trolling for compliments. I truly enjoy reading about the accomplishments of my friends’ children and I consider it my civic duty to spread the love on Facebook.)

Anyway, my point today is to level the score between my children. I’ve done an awful lot of bragging about Kate, what with her being a senior and going off to college to play tennis. But I have another tennis player in the house and fair play dictates I give Parker a bloggy shout-out.

I just got his tennis photos back from the photographer. Parker’s wearing his game face rather than the smile I would have preferred, but I suppose that’s what boys do.

Yesterday, Parker’s team won the first round of competition in their district tournament. Parker lost his singles match, but he and his partner won their dubs match handily. I took the day off so I could spectate and be a mother, which included making sandwiches for the team and tweeting about Parker’s four aces.

Did I mention I also brag on Twitter? If you can’t use social media for self-and/or-family-promotion, what’s the point? I mean really?

Besides, there was hardly anybody there to witness the match so I had to tweet about it. (As did Kate.)

The sole spectator is me. Despite the loneliness of being a high school tennis fan in this part of the country, new media has helped create a virtual crowd. (At least three likes on my “fourth ace” Facebook post seemed like a crowd.)

School will be out soon and I promise to move on to other topics besides my kids. #ormaybenot

With gratitude {for a Monday better than most},

Joan, an equal opportunity gasbag, braggart, blatherskite, boaster, windbag, bigmouth (and Thesaurus-lover)

For two interesting views on Facebook bragging, read this post by Yoonanimous and this post by Glennon Melton. Yoona made me laugh (and think Oh God, I do that!) and Glennon made me pause (and think Oh God, I do that!).

Mr. Mom, aka the Cluemaster.

Dear friends,

We spent Thursday night at Buffalo Wild Wings, Kate’s favorite restaurant. It is affectionately known as B-Dubs by my children. (For those of you as lost as Mr. Mom, Dub is short for W. Buffalo Wild Wings = BWW = B-Dubs.)

At Kate’s request, we have been planning this birthday outing for a couple of weeks. Only every time Mr. Mom talked about it, he called it BFFs.

If you’re anyone reading this post beside Mr. Mom, you know BFF stands for Best Friend Forever.  Not the same thing (except in Kate’s case, it might actually be fair to say B-Dubs is her BFF).

Anyway, it has become increasingly clear Mr. Mom cannot keep up with the rest of the family. We learned during after-dinner conversation he does not know what a hashtag is. #clueless

He doesn’t Tweet, either, which explains his hashtag problem. And it’s too bad, really, because K8 gave him a S/O today on Twitter for being an especially considerate father and he didn’t even realize it.

We try to talk slow around him and refrain from rolling our eyes, but it’s getting increasingly difficult. #pullovergramps

I feel bad poking fun at him in this way since he does so many things well, like fix our cars #acemechanic and clean our clothes #laundryslave. But there are so few things in life for which I can claim superiority over him that I simply must leverage his appalling lack of new media awareness.

With gratitude {for friends who keep me in the know and, therefore, one step ahead of the old man},

Joan, who served a short stint as a radio announcer in college and learned to properly enunciate W (double-U, not dub-yuh) and, therefore, cringed during the entire second Bush administration