I know, I know. This week got away from me. It included Little Man being off from school which translated into his spending the entire week so all over me it was as if he was trying to crawl back in. My dad was also visiting, which was actually extraordinarily helpful, but distracting. Then I ran a Girl scout meeting that involved teaching twenty girls to sew when I, myself, stare at popped-off buttons helplessly, telling the kids, "Ask you grandmother". And the finale was changing out all the winter clothes, which found me, yesterday afternoon, in the middle of a shoulder-high pile of fleece waiting to be sorted by size to be packed, shared or donated, and bursting into tears. So there you go.
During this crazy week I was trying to make several different plans for various offspring, and myself and H, and as I did so, I made a startling discovery. I no longer like the phone, pretty much at all. What??? You have a vagina, therefore you must love talking on the phone! Isn't talking what women love to do? Don't women use something like four thousand times the words men use in one day? I do use all those words, I just use them caring for for and speaking to my children. I bet the number of times I yell, "Little Man, DON'T DO THAT?" must account for a full two-thirds of my daily quota.
When I was a teenager, I had hours and hours to while away on the phone. Planning a trip to the mall could easily involve ten phone calls lasting approximately thirty minutes each. Now, I have about three minutes before somebody comes looking for me with a request for a beverage, homework help or to wipe their ass, so time is of the essence. So with that in mind, I have a request, OK, a demand. I demand that all mothers embrace technology and begin using text and email. We're all busy, right? Then why do we insist, when making plans, on five minutes of chit-chatty bullshit before getting to the point of the phone call? When I do make phone calls, I feel rude if do not participate in this verbal dance, wanting desperately to get back to the other things that need doing.
MM:"Hi Randon Mother, it's Mary."
Random Mom: "Hi! How are you?"
MM:"Good."
Random Mom: "What a beautiful day, huh?"
MM: "Sure is. The reason I'm calling is I was wondering if we could arrange a playdate next week."
RM: "Sure, OK, let me look at my calendar. OK, Monday is dance, Tuesday we have the dentist, how is Wednesday?"
MM: "Sure does after school to five work?"
RM: "OK, let me see, I have to get my older one at skating..."
OK, at the point the conversation has lasted more than five minutes and I only have half the info I need. Doing this via text would have taken two minutes total, disregarding lag time. Instead of waiting on the phone while this mother figured out her schedule, she could have consulted her date book and gotten back to me. I'm not interested in the process, just the results.
And email. I move that it be mandatory for the care-giving parent to check their email once a day. Why do I bother sending out detailed emails about school board stuff, only to be asked about it at the preschool? When I send permission slips as attachments for next month's class trip for you to print and sign, I assume you will read your email at some point, rather than harass me for copies at pick-up since, contrary to what you must believe, I do not actually have a copy machine in my house.
While we are on the topic of these technologies, let's discuss etiquette and eliminating some of the social anxiety that might prevent their full usage. Ladies, short, succinct, info-filled texts and emails are not insulting, they are effective. I don't need a joke or the email equivalent of small talk to know you still like me. An email that states "I'll pick your kid up at three, let me know if that works" and you name, is fine by me. Can we also stop over-using exclamation points and emoticons, trying to electronically hug one another after being brief? Actually, how about we stop using emoticons at all? Especially that wink-face. Do you dot your i's with hearts? And, once and for all, TYPING IN ALL CAPS IS THE ELECTRONIC VERSION OF SHOUTING, SO STOP DOING IT.
Now, don't get me wrong, sometimes the internet will not do and I need a long conversation with B, with her being eight hours away and all. I talk to my father every morning while unloading the dishwasher, and I would be lost without my desperate, I-am-going-to-lose-my-damn-mind chats with S, but when I am making plans with any of these people, it always occurs electronically. Although with my dad it must be through email alone, since he, like serial killers and drug dealers, only purchases one of those disposable cell phones when necessary.
I know it is amazing that with my love-hate relationship with technology, that I have embraced it so fully when dealing with logistics (I'm still holding out on the Kindle, despite the kicky new Lilly Pulitzer cases) but when your entire life can be streamlined, allowing you to avoid five minute discussions about whether white on navy or navy on white would be better for next year's Open House banner, you can't help but love it. Plus it saves us all the awkward pause when Little Man interrupts me mid-sentence to shout "I MADE POOP!"*
*Sidebar- trying to use the medical insurance voice-prompt menu while home with a constantly babbling toddler should surely be one of the Dante's circles of hell.
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