The Five Types of Facebookers

I spend a lot of time on Facebook. Like, a lot. I imagine my kids' first sentences will be something like, "Are you going to update your status soon, Empress of the Universe?" Also I will be teaching my kids to address me as Empress of the Universe. And since I not only spend a lot of time on Facebook but also have a degree in public relations, which means I am basically a Facebook expert, I have noticed a trend. The majority of Facebookers I see fall into at least one category, sometimes two. Sometimes three. I fear those people the most. And, lucky you, I have decided to share these categories for your benefit and enjoyment. Which one are you? Are you more than one? Tell me all.

The Liker:

This person may or may not comment, but as soon as your status goes up, you can count on them to click the "like" button to show their approval of your latest update. This person moves like a silent ninja, liking things all over the place, even if what they like makes no sense. Sometimes this person likes other peoples' comments - people they don't even know. The most terrifying power this person wields is the notifications. Oh, the notifications. There is nothing like opening up Facebook, clicking on your notifications, and seeing the same profile picture eighteen times in a row because The Liker has struck once again to express their approval for everything you have written in the last three hours. Well played, Liker. Well played.

The InstaCommenter:

I don't know how this person moves so quickly, but within five seconds of you pressing "post," this person has already commented on your status/picture/link. This truly baffles me. I am not judging how much time The InstaCommenter spends on Facebook, because people in social media houses shouldn't throw virtual stones. But how does this person react so fast? HOW? What's even more impressive/confusing is that this person, much like The Liker, moves swiftly and silently. They may not have had any activity on Facebook for six hours. But the moment you respond to their comment, there they are, ready with an InstaFollowUp. I can only imagine they have some kind of pager attached to their wrist at all times that alerts them to the exciting news that they can once again comment on a Facebook status. Or maybe they're psychic.


The Drama Llama:

My goodness, this person has a rough life. Or so they would lead you to believe. I am not the Facebook police. You can write what you want on your Facebook page. But there are some days where I see a Drama Llama and have to resist the urge to find a way to cut off their Internet access. You will recognize the Drama Llama because while their crisis will seem urgent and/or terrible, further inspection will show you that what they are experiencing is not, in fact, that big of a freakin' deal. The Drama Llama is crafty, and toys with your emotions using lots... of.... ellipses... to build up... ... ... suspense... before doing... a... big reveal IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS. An experienced Drama Llama could make buying new shampoo a nail-biter of an event. It's hard to tell whether the Drama Llama is really this upset about a non-issue, or if they just really like typing sad faces. This is one of the mysteries of life that may never fully be solved.

The Nostalgic Stalker:

Have you ever gotten a notification that someone has liked or commented on a post, clicked to see the post, and been really confused for about thirty seconds before realizing said post is from 2009 and you barely remember writing it? That confusion is brought to you courtesy of the Nostalgic Stalker. Part of the blame has to lie with the silly Facebook newsfeed that shows you posts from two days ago and pretends they are new. But most of the blame lies with the Nostalgic Stalker as they scroll through your profile and acknowledge every post you have made in the last six months. Unlike The Liker and InstaCommenter, subtlety is not this person's strength. Oftentimes they refuse to acknowledge that any other events have passed since you posted whatever they are commenting on, resulting in gems like, "Hope your wedding is full of blessings!" three years after you get married. Have they not been on Facebook for several months? Do they think you might like to be reminded of the day you graduated college? It's hard to say why the Nostalgic Stalker does what they do. But one thing is certain - they will do it to you.

The Killjoy:

Oh, man. This person. This person bums me out just to write about, so you can imagine what running into one of them on Facebook is like. The Killjoy's main goal is to suck the life and fun out of every hilarious or uplifting thing you post. Writing out your favorite Bible verse and posting it as your status? The Killjoy will comment with a fun fact on how that verse is actually severely mistranslated and really does not mean anything close to what you thought. Want to post some lyrics of your favorite inspirational song? The Killjoy will link an article that explains the artist is now on meth and hates kittens. And heaven forbid you post something a little tongue-in-cheek as your status. The Killjoy does not do sarcasm. Any statuses about how you want to sell your baby online will result in lectures on how children are a precious gift, why DFACS does not want you to sell your children, and articles from parenting magazines about loving the moment. Don't be that person. No one likes that person. At all.

And there you go - the Five Types of Facebookers. They are real. They are out there. I have been all of these at one point or another, and - admit it - so have you. It's okay. We're here for you. But seriously, don't link parenting articles to my status. I will not have that nonsense. I will. not. have it.

The App of Shame

Do you drink a lot of water? I find that when I ask this question (yes, I do ask this question a lot), people fall into one of two camps: Either water is omg the best thing ever and you should love water and do you have any water and is that water I see can I please have some, or water is the single worst thing to ever exist and when Jesus returns to this earth the first thing he will do is get rid of that foul liquid so we can finally be happy. 

I was more in the second camp until recently. I like water but I looooove so many other things. But being pregnant means you have to stay hydrated and something about health and other stuff, too, so back to water I went. I drink a lot of water. A. Lot. Exactly how much, you wonder? Thanks for asking; it's hard to segue into this next part unless someone asks. I drink about 100 ounces a day. I know this because I have an app on my phone that tells me how much I have had (after I tell it) and tells me how much I need to be hydrated according to my height and weight and hair color. Easy peasy, right? 

Wrong. 

See, as I have stated previously, I am not the kind of person who is motivated by goals. Or by anything, really. I need to lose 20 pounds by my birthday? Okay! Or not! Either one is okay with me! But I always start out motivated. Sometimes I'm even really motivated. As was the case when I originally started using my hydration app. But now, several weeks later, I find myself falling off the wagon, as they say, and while I want to get back on... meh. I still drink a lot of water. But the thrill of adding it to my phone has faded somewhat. And I have realized this is true of so many apps I have used in the past... running, couponing, even Pinterest. Looking back over my lack of motivation I have noticed a pattern, which I will now present to you chronologically. Why? Because I can. 

Day 1: 

New app! It was free! Yay!!! I will now spend the next hour filling out every single question and meticulously typing in my info so I can get started! Weeeeeeeeeeee! Now to choose a username! Oh, if I do a good job I get either a bronze, silver, or gold medal! I bet I can make it to gold every day! 

Day 2: 

Boy, this new app sure is fun! And my user name is awesome: TheHydrator1986. I am a genius. Now to add all of my water so I can get a medal! Wow, up to bronze already? I am so awesome. And it makes a happy sound when I reach a new medal!!!!!11111!!!

Day 3: 

Oops! Almost made it all the way to lunch without putting in my water intake! Silly. There we go. No medal yet? Hmm... I will chug some water right now... type it in... MEDAL, SCORE. 

Days 4-6:

Oh, shoot - I haven't added any water since yesterday. But I know I drank a lot. Probably at least as much as the day before. I'll just say that; it's not like the app knows (or does it?). Okay, silver medal. Not as good as gold but still respectable, right? 

Days 7-9:

Argh. I have absolutely no idea how much water I have had. It felt like a lot. Should I also count the Diet Coke I had? I mean, it hydrated me, right? Sure. That's science. Okay, show me the gold, show me the gold... huh. Bronze. Well, that's okay. It's ridiculous to expect someone to get gold every day. Even Gabby Douglas went home with a few silvers, amirite? 

Day 10: 

Okay, I have to stop lying to the app. The point is to drink a lot of water and lying isn't helping. No more lying. 

Day 11: 

Maybe just a little more lying.

Days 12-14: 

Seriously, I don't see why this is such a big deal. It's just water. I drink plenty. This app doesn't know my life. Maybe if the APP had a baby who needs a lot of attention and a sink full of dirty dishes it wouldn't be so quick to judge my lack of water intake. Get off your high horse, hydration app. 

Day 15:

I will just move the app to the last section on my phone. That way I don't have to see its angry, condescending glare every time I unlock my phone. 

Day 16: 

I can still sense the app...waiting for me, asking me why I give up so easily. Be quiet, you stupid app. You don't know me. You don't know ANYTHING. I GOT SIX GOLD MEDALS. SIX. 

Fine, it was five. 

Day 17:

Delete app. Eat brownie. 

So there you have it: The quick descent from motivation into apathy. I'm actually really impressed that it only takes me a couple of weeks to make such a drastic change. Maybe I am more motivated than I thought. Maybe I am THE most motivated quitter that ever was. That can be my thing. That will earn me a real gold medal!!! 

I'm thirsty. 

The Origins of E

I've seen some really adorable ways that wives have told their husbands they're having a baby. Cute cards, t-shirts, drawing on their stomachs (okay, that one is a little weird to me). My friend Sara put a boy onesie and a girl onesie inside a dresser drawer, placed the positive pregnancy test in between, and left a card for her husband that said "Get Ready for # 2!" (#2 is referring to their second child, not a BM). So adorable.

Predictably, when I told Daniel the news, I didn't have as much... what's the word... dignity. After I told him I thought of a million cute ways to do it. But that's not the Kraniel way. Kraniel = Kristen + Daniel. Get with the program.

No, our way usually involves confusion, shouting, and, in this case, foreign languages.

When I took the test, I didn't expect to get a positive result. Don't get me wrong - I wanted one. I just didn't think I would get one. So when the second little line appeared, I kind of froze for a second. Then, as only I can do, I thought This can't be right. Nice, huh? My baby will be so thrilled to hear that I had to make sure that it wasn't a user error several times over. I'll probably write that on the first birthday card.

So anyway, I just couldn't believe it. I had to make sure - but how? I only had the one test. So I ran down the hallway to Daniel, who was listening to something on the computer.

"Daniel!" I said. No answer. He's half-deaf. And with headphones in, forgettaboutit. No way would he hear me. Some people might have tapped him on the shoulder. I just took a deep breath and bellowed "DANIEL!" 

He jumped and turned around.

"READ THIS!" I pushed the test and the directions for the test into his hands.

"What?"

"READ THE INSTRUCTIONS AND TELL ME WHAT THIS TEST SAYS." Yes, his headphones were off by now. No, I did not stop yelling at top volume.

"Kristen, I can't read this!" He was trying to show me something on the instructions.

"JUST READ IT!!" I screamed like the girl from The Exorcist.

"I CAN'T!!!"

"WHY NOT???!!!!"

"BECAUSE THESE INSTRUCTIONS ARE. IN. SPANISH!!"

Wait, what? I took the instructions from him. Sure enough, there was a Spanish side and an English side. That's what I get for buying my test on sale at Wal-Mart. I flipped the instructions to the English side and handed it back to him very sweetly.

"Could you pretty please read it now?"

He read it. He is not a fast reader.

"WILL YOU PLEASE JUST HURRY??" I was yelling again. This time it came out more like the Emperor from Star Wars.

"Stop rushing me. I am going as fast as I can."

"GO FASTER."

"I CAN'T."

"WHY NOT?"

"BECAUSE YOU ARE STANDING OVER ME AND I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT WE'RE DOING AND I JUST. NEED. A MINUTE."

After 16 hours had passed, he finished. "Can I see the test?"

I handed it to him. He looked at the test. He looked back at the instructions. He looked back at the test. He looked back at the instructions. Test. Instructions. Test. Instructions. TEST. My brain was about to implode when he got a big smile on his face.

"This says you're pregnant!!!!!!!"

We hugged it out. Did we spend the rest of the evening going over baby names and how to tell people and wondering if we would be good parents? Nope. Daniel went back to his headphones. I caught up on Grey's Anatomy.

It's the Kraniel way.