This morning, I woke up to a mountain of notifications. I had no less than 15 emails about who was responsible for bringing snacks to the high school soccer game tonight. Yes, you heard correctly—snacks for high school athletes! Just wait until I get to that. I also received around 10 emails informing me of a change in location for my middle schooler’s basketball practice.
Following those, there was an automated email from a homeroom parent that included a link to SignUp Genius, prompting me to create an account and volunteer for a teacher luncheon. Below that, I had three emails from the school’s learning management system, complete with attachments for my fifth grader’s homework assignments and another link to check quarterly report cards. And if I wanted to access the high school grade portal, that required a completely different login.
But hang tight; I’m just warming up.
Then came a barrage of updates from “TeamSnaps” and “Ringya,” where I had the pleasure of wading through 20 parent replies to a group thread, along with a link to log in and share my own response. Oh joy! Just what I wanted—a marathon of email exchanges!
Did I mention I might be suffering from what I like to call “login fatigue?”
After that, I picked up my phone—big mistake. My screen was flooded with automated texts reminding me of everything under the sun. Yes, team mom, I GET IT! Granola bars for the soccer team tomorrow, and they must be nut-free. I’m on it!
Last but not least, I received a text from my college-aged son requesting more laundry money for his university card. Of course, there’s an app for that! After all, asking a 19-year-old to find an ATM for quarters is so 2010. I mean, who even uses cash anymore? It’s a Venmo world now! But honestly, none of this is fun; it feels like drowning in tech.
Modern parenting, with its myriad of child management apps, communication platforms, and portals, has taken over my life. I’m sure it has consumed yours too. It seems impossible—and perhaps even a little rebellious—to opt out.
I know this because I’ve tried. I once boldly declined to share my email address with the baseball team mom at a game. “I get far too many emails, so no thanks. You’ll have to reach me another way.” Sure, it may have come off as curt, but I was defending my mental health and trying to stave off email overload for the two months of the season. “Just print me the snack, practice, and game schedules, and that’s all I need,” I said. Can you imagine? A paper schedule to jot down in my planner—without the incessant pings, dings, and notifications!
For larger families, the burden of managing children’s activities multiplies exponentially. Each child may have multiple apps for their sports and clubs. Ironically, while we’re all receiving the same updates, we’re each burdened with our own logins. At the end of last semester, my husband and I nearly argued over who could remember the login information for the academic portal. An explosive debate over my first car led to slamming doors, leaving us unsure if our child even passed 8th-grade math. Aren’t we living in the golden age of convenience?
How did our parents manage to get us to events when we needed to be there? How did we survive after school without a snack? I don’t recall my mom needing a wall calendar or planner in the ’80s, yet I never missed a game or practice. Perhaps her mind wasn’t cluttered with endless tabs, lists, and logins, allowing her to remember that Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were ballet class days—no snacks necessary.
Maybe another factor is that I remembered my schedule, whereas my kids seem utterly dependent on technology to remind them of everything, leading to a complete lack of accountability. We’ve become so reliant on reminders that we get frustrated when our emails—managed by bots—don’t sync with our calendars, leaving us in the dark about our plans.
Which begs the question: can we return to using paper notes to remind us of important tasks? While we’re at it, could someone please reach out to Franklin Covey and get the day planner production line rolling again? Let’s rebel against these digital tools, grab our agenda time machines, and break out our vintage gel pens! It’s entirely feasible to manage everything with good old-fashioned pen and paper—with no logins, passwords, or accounts required.
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Summary:
Navigating modern parenting feels overwhelming with the plethora of apps and communication tools available today. The constant barrage of emails, texts, and notifications can lead to “login fatigue” and a sense of technological suffocation. While these tools aim to simplify life, they often complicate it further, leaving parents longing for simpler times when paper schedules sufficed. In an age dominated by digital reminders, the reliance on technology may have diminished our ability to remember and manage our lives effectively.
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