Moms Columns & Blogs

How did we do anything before email?

Seriously, what’s going on? What’s with all the emails? And how in the world did our parents coordinate anything without it? Because everything we do around here begins with an email …

There’s the normal school stuff – welcome emails from teachers, PTA pleas for volunteers, and requests for hand sanitizer for the classrooms. Which is fine.

And I was expecting the schedule for the middle school office volunteers. What I wasn’t expecting was the nine “reply all” emails from moms wanting to trade shifts. And revision emails for each schedule change.

Then came the football practice schedule. The soccer practice schedule. And then the game schedules for both. Now something about a football jamboree. A soccer tournament. And team pictures happening between the two games during the soccer tournament that I can’t find the email for now.

Plus carpool emails. I take to football practice every day, but another mom brings home. Unless it’s Thursday. And then I don’t take or pick up. Unless they need me to, in which case they’ll send me an email. Yeah. Another email.

Soccer carpool emails are fun because there are four of us on that. We each have a day and we take both ways. But then someone wants to switch days. But they can only drive one way. So we email around in circles and it gets resolved, but I don’t know what we decided because all 22 emails are called “carpool” and I can’t piece it all together.

Ah, a new Sunday school curriculum and class assignments. And while there’s a Sunday school teacher, he’ll need help. So 12 moms get a request. And everybody does a “reply all,” each explaining how they can and can’t help on any given Sunday.

Somebody’s got a birthday. Thus, an email with an evite. Followed by an email with a link to preregister for the party. Then a consent form to fill out and e-sign. Then a verification email to verify my email, which is dumb, because the fact that I’ve been evited, have e-registered, and then e-signed, should be verification that it’s my email. E-nough!

Sixth Grade Promenade has kicked up and so here comes the dress code, the class list and the hostess schedule. And news that one of the classes has been moved to the first night of my high school reunion. About which I have roughly 40 emails. Everything from when are you coming, what are you wearing, where are you staying, who are you bringing, and what exactly are we paying for if it’s a cash bar?

See, when my mom had to do all this, she had to do it from a phone mounted to the wall in the kitchen. If she didn’t know their phone number, she couldn’t call them. And if you weren’t home to answer the phone, nobody could reach you.

Boy, those were the days …

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