Keep up, keep up

My son has introduced me to Facebook. Apparently I'm now his "friend". That's a blessing. I looked at the setup for ages before I got the courage to do anything about it, and then my daughter had to show me what to do. Actually, once I understood it, it was O.K. But I do get the feeling that I am aeons behind my "children" in this sort of communication.
It sent the years rolling back when I looked at my son's entry. There were all these gorgeous looking grown-ups, male and female, who apparently went to school, middle school (whatever that is), college and uni with him. I certainly recognized the names, but not the faces (or the bodies!). And now they're all living and working(mostly) in London. I remember some of them from 10 years ago, when they were about 16; the ones who used to turn up on our doorstep smelling of cigarettes, the ones who threw up after drinking too much, the ones who were always hungry and seemed to arrive in time for dinner (a hastily enlarged spaghetti bolognese or something similar). Those were the days.
Anyway, now they all look wonderful - very sophisticated - I like the idea of catching up with them. But can I keep up with them? Probably not, and I suppose that's how it should be.

I noticed that my ex-husband, father of the children, is also on Facebook as one of my son's friends - quite right I guess, but whereas I have owned up to being his mother, he has listed himself as "in the family"! Not his father. (Actually, he was a mostly absent father, so I suppose that's about right.)
The silly thing is that I'm so proud of my two that I take any opportunity to identify myself as their mother.(Maybe they find it embarrassing, but that's tough.)They're without doubt the best things I ever produced, and the very best people I could leave to represent me in this human race.

My daughter read this blog and alerted me to the fact that I had left some labels out of the description of myself. They were: daughter, friend, sister. And I'm sure there are more.