It won’t be long before Facebook profiles and feeds are offered as Ancestry records.

And as I post I wonder if this is my legacy.

Pictured and captioned on Facebook was a three-year-old standing with his arms crossed in defiance of bed-time.

“Connor says he is going to stay up all night and eat cookies. He is so funny. Bed time is still at seven-thirty.”

Considering the many stories and pictures I post about my boys on social media, I wonder what it would have been like if my mom had the ability to post about my life when I was a kid. I think the following is a good representation of what my mom would have said in 1984.

“Here is a video of Meg's three-year-old dance recital. She is the one who got stuck in the curtain at the end. You can also see her tap shoe flying off around the middle of the song, but a nice man from the front row brought it back to me and threatened a lawsuit. We have encouraged Meg to find another activity, maybe one that isn't on stage — where people can see her and know she is our child — but we are proud of her anyway!”

Aww, Facebook — my love-hate relationship with it runs deep.

Just like anything else, it has good and bad elements but one thing is certain: social media is going nowhere. Maybe I am wrong, but publicizing ourselves is not some passing trend — it has become a way of life.

And while I believe that society’s fall is closely related to the rise of technology and social media, I also can’t help but think how cool it would be scroll through Facebook and see what my Granny was doing back in the day. Colorful and captioned versions of the black and white pictures I have stowed away in an old suitcase with unrecognized faces would have a new life and a story.

One of my favorites is when Granny and a few friends made silly faces at the camera. Other than being dated 1952, there is nothing indicating who these friends were but their personalities shined through it. I would love more insight into the moment captured.

Don’t get me wrong, the black and white somber faces in which we often view our ancestors are priceless. And the bit of mystery surrounding those uncaptioned photos is haunting and cool, but I also love when we get glimpses into who they were.

Especially the one where my young Dad is sitting long-faced on the edge of the river with his pole beside him and Granny scribbled on the back of it "June 1960 at Minnow Creek. Ronnie's pissed because fish ain't bitin’."

We have a chance to truly connect with them in those situations because we realize just how much they were like us.

That’s the opportunity we now have before us. It won’t be long before Facebook profiles and feeds are offered as Ancestry records.

And as I post I wonder if this is my legacy. Will my great-grandchildren see the restaurant selfie where Logan and I pretended to pick our nose? (Well, I was pretending at least.) Will my ancestors connect with the real me they see on social media? Will they be proud of what they see?

I hope so.

They will see vivid pictures of all the food I burnt, and one real time video of the fire alarm sounding and the kids yelling “Is dinner ready?”

They will read an open letter of apology to my bill collectors who were waiting for payment until my purse returned in the mail from the circus in Wisconsin. (Because I left it there on vacation.)

They will see my newborn babies, read about my scare with cancer, and watch me get up and try to do it right over and over again. They will follow the journey of a wife and mother who loves God and leans on Him for her many weaknesses.

And then one day they will expand their searches to read Connor and Logan’s social media accounts — and I will be there too.

“Just got back from visiting Mom at the home. She says she is going to stay up all night and eat cookies. She’s so funny. They sedate her at eight-thirty.”