June 3, 2025
June 17, 2024

The curse of constant communication: Why can’t we just interact in person?

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At about midnight, after a sleepless two hours of lying in bed listening to my baby coughing in his sleep over the monitor, I decided it was time to act. I administered a syringe full of Calpol first to him and then to myself before going back to bed and finally falling asleep. Every mother knows what it feels like to be this sleep-deprived. You get used to it, just like you get to used living in squalor, to having absolutely no personal space and to being a punch bag for a five-year-old in whose eyes you can do nothing right despite the fact that you are trying desperately to please them. You even get used to – to the point of actually looking forward to – having the kids’ cold leftovers for supper, eaten while standing up off a Disney princess plastic plate, all washed down with incredibly strong Ribena straight out of the jug. Sometimes it’s overwhelming, <a href="https://catholicherald.co.uk/the-beautiful-scent-of-a-newborn-learning-to-live-with-the-chaos-of-three-small-children/?swcfpc=1"><mark style="background-color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)" class="has-inline-color has-vivid-cyan-blue-color">but mostly you manage</mark></a>. I find going to bed at 7 p.m. once a week, preferably on a Wednesday, sort of reboots me and gets me through the rest of the week. I also try to go out one evening a week, which sounds fun but usually involves a geriatric yoga class, while my husband puts the children to bed. The children can be a nightmare, but are sometimes amusing and occasionally affectionate, which also keeps you going. It is all just about manageable, but what really tips me over the edge about <a href="https://catholicherald.co.uk/being-just-normal-in-a-world-of-perfect-catholic-mothers/"><mark style="background-color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)" class="has-inline-color has-vivid-cyan-blue-color">modern motherhood</mark></a> is all the other stuff you are supposed to keep on top of; by which I mean the relentless communication. At the moment, at my daughter’s school, I am supposed to be signed up to Parent Mail, Parent Pay, a Parent <em>WhatsApp</em> group and something called Class Dojo – which I have even been forced to download an app for. Every single time I go on any of these (I have silenced the notifications), I discover yet another thing that I am supposed to have done, but of course have not done. There is nothing quite like the dread that starts to rise through your body when you realise that every single other child in your daughter’s class is clutching a teddy bear at the school gates that morning. “What’s with the teddy bears?” I ask one of the more approachable mothers, sheepishly. Ah yes, of course, the Teddy Bears’ Picnic I knew nothing about. And I feel sorry for my daughter, but also furious. This is meant to be school, not playgroup, I grumble and storm home with the baby under my arm to find a suitable soft toy, another hour of my day down the drain. Recently it was “Grow a Pound” week, which also went over my head. There were girls on the school courtyard selling home-made flower arrangements, cakes and hair clips, while the boys flogged vegetables that they had grown themselves. Apparently I was told about this months ago. “Why didn’t we do anything?” my daughter asks, accusingly. Then there are the birthday parties, which, with 30 children in the class, are incessant. The invitations get posted on the <em>WhatsApp </em>group and everyone then posts their comments and RSVPs on the <em>WhatsApp</em> group. “Can I bring my other child?” one parent asks. “Can my dad bring the kids?” It is relentless. “It’s his weekend with his dad, I’ll try and get him to bring him.” I find that by the time I’ve read all the comments – which admittedly sometimes give fascinating insight into the lives of these people – I have completely forgotten about the invitation. And then of course, when the party has happened, there comes the torrent of thank you messages. But the party stuff is nothing compared to details that get shared about the children’s illnesses. “Mike was sick four times during the night, anyone else got a sick bug?” And on it goes. Once, a mums’ night out was being organised on this <em>WhatsApp</em> group. Being rather overwhelmed by the realities of my non-digital life, I failed to engage with this. Then suddenly my phone flashed. “@olenkahamilton do let us know if you’d like to join us.” Perhaps it was well-meaning but to me it felt like an aggressive attack. And don’t even get me started on the people who are super friendly on the <em>WhatsApp</em> group, but <a href="https://catholicherald.co.uk/be-kind-for-everyone-you-meet-is-fighting-a-great-battle/?swcfpc=1"><mark style="background-color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)" class="has-inline-color has-vivid-cyan-blue-color">cannot even bring themselves to say hello when you see them in person</mark></a>. When my son was born, four months ago, I started going to a wonderful toddler and baby group at the local Anglican church. It was heaven for the first few sessions until I started to get pestered to fill in a form with my details so that I could be added to the, of course, <em>WhatsApp</em> group. My heart sank. Why can’t we all just meet in person once a week, discuss fascinating topics such as co-sleeping and night feeds, swap numbers with the people we actually like, and be done with it?<br><br><em>Photo: By <a href="https://unsplash.com/@jknorman714?utm_content=creditCopyText&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=unsplash"><mark style="background-color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)" class="has-inline-color has-vivid-cyan-blue-color">Jenna Norman</mark></a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/woman-carrying-baby-8ybZT29CaoA?utm_content=creditCopyText&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=unsplash"><mark style="background-color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)" class="has-inline-color has-vivid-cyan-blue-color">Unsplash</mark></a>.</em><br><br><strong><strong>This article originally appeared in the June 2024 issue of the <em>Catholic Herald</em>. To subscribe to our award-winning, thought-provoking magazine and have independent and high-calibre counter-cultural Catholic journalism delivered to your door anywhere in the world click</strong> <mark style="background-color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)" class="has-inline-color has-vivid-cyan-blue-color"><a href="https://catholicherald.co.uk/subscribe/?swcfpc=1">HERE</a></mark>.</strong>
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