Dear Super Braggy Mom on Facebook,
It's not surprising that we meet again. Why would it be? You post earth-shattering status updates about your “gifted” extraordinary kids' talents every few hours, and I’m the asshole who checks Facebook at red lights. And sometimes green.
I would first like to announce an exciting announcement about something I can’t wait to finally announce! (Sound familiar? Yeah, everything about your kids is SO FREAKING EXCITING, you make it an official announcement and you're not even in PR. In fact, you don't have a job. Maybe if you had one you wouldn't post so much in the first place?) No one cares. No really. No. One. Cares. And I’m talking even your in-laws at this point are like, please shut the F up already because you are embarrassing us all. We are a humble family. Were a humble family.
RELATED: Confessions of a Former Bully
It's odd because you seem so modest and mousy in real life. What is it about that blank status update box that unleashes this Inner Braggy Bitch?
OK “bitch” it an overstatement. It’s not that you are being bitchy, by definition, but it’s a checked out move to post "excerpts" of your third grader's novella. I don’t even know what a bitch is, and frankly it's not a woman-friendly term that I'm fond of, but someone so clueless to the fact that parents of less outstanding, accelerated children might find this totally off-putting is a bitch personified. I'm pretty sure of it. Because while you're busy sharing about Chloe's memorization of her favorite passage from "Ulysses," our kids are still demanding we read "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" to them—the pop-up version.
Your updates have me thinking something is seriously wrong with my kids or maybe I shouldn't have had kids in the first place.
Yes, your daughter has an SAT vocabulary and this summer she asked to tour Stanford after her three-week writing camp but we all don’t need to know about it.
While your kids know everything in the world, (clearly) what you don’t know is that we all think you’re an asshole. All of us. All 65 mutual friends. You’re like the Goop of Status Updates About My Kids Who Are Way Better Than Yours. It’s impossible not to read the full-on train wrecks of boasting posting. They are that good. I mean, bad. I mean, good.
They often are accompanied by photos of your prodigies at work (videos solving Rubik cubes in less than a minute) and at play (violin concertos and reading books in the playground). Is there anything these wunderkinds can’t do? We know they can handle seven weeks at $10,000 sleep away camp on the East Coast, no problem. Because you told us. This is especially uplifting for me as my 10-year-old has yet to conquer a sleepover without me receiving a 10 p.m. rescue call. Sometimes it comes in at 8.
At first, I used to think, what is she doing that I’m not? My kids are like embryos compared to yours—turtle embryos from a sheltered, impoverished hut ... in the Amazon. No they’re not doing high dives, winning ski competitions and going on 20-mile bike rides because they can’t swim, ski or ride a bike. Clearly I fucked up.
Your updates have me thinking something is seriously wrong with my kids or maybe I shouldn't have had kids in the first place if I can't get them to read The New Yorker by the time they're 9.
Then I thought, only a desperate, insecure person is this compelled to share every successful beat of their kid’s lives with us. And then, I realized holy crap, this is all Facebook is. You are not alone, my soon to be un-friend. You and your kind are everywhere on Facebook. Does Zuckerberg know that his once sexy, savvy creation is now a Frankenstein for farty, old 40-somethings to do nothing but post pictures of their kids’ good grades?
I’m going to unfriend you now, my friend. In fact, I’m blocking you. No more scrolling through insufferable hourly updates about how 9-year-old Chloe tested into eighth-grade math this week. I’m done with you and how you make us all feel like big fat failures. I also hate that you're thin, but that's another article. I’m going back to enjoy Facebook for its original intention: to stalk ex-lovers and press save on those cute farm animal videos, to relish how good my life is after getting lost in another GoFundMe tragedy. And let's not forget a good "Chocolate Chip Cookies Five Ways" time-lapse.
Go fuck yourself.
Emily & Co.