“If You’re Not 10 Steps Ahead, Are You Even a Parent?”
There should really be an Olympic event for this kind of stuff, and I guarantee you every parent I know would medal. Gold. With a side of coffee and a therapy coupon.
Y’all, being a parent in 2025 is not for the faint of heart—or the slow with technology. I am exhausted from trying to stay “on top of everything” all. the. time. We’re not just parenting anymore, we’re basically running a one-woman command center with login credentials, multiple synced alarms, snack schedules, and a printer that only works if you whisper sweet nothings to it and smack the side twice like a jukebox.
Let me set the scene:
Tonight at 8:00PM sharp, our elementary school opened up club registration. You’d think I was buying Taylor Swift tickets at pre-sale with how serious this process is.
At 7:30, the girls were tucked in bed with the kind of precision and speed that would make an Olympic pit crew proud. I rebooted my phone and laptop. We were NOT about to let a “please install update” message ruin our shot at “Lego Engineering” or “Kid Chefs Jr.”
At 7:45, I tested my login. No surprise password resets tonight, Satan!
At 7:50, my reminder alarms started going off like I was launching a spaceship from Houston. My finger hovered over that “Sign Up” button like I was trying to detonate—or not detonate—a bomb.
8:00 hit. Boom. I was in. First choice - Add to cart. Second choice - Add to cart. CHECKOUT.
And just like that, the system hit me with verify this, verify that. Homeroom teacher. Emergency contacts. Authorized pickup. Do I want to donate an extra $10 to the PTA or buy a $15 shirt to support the foundation? Ma’am, I just want my child to learn how to make a fruit kabob. Stop slowing me down - I have to complete checkout in 5 minutes or I lose our selections!
Meanwhile, my husband—bless his heart—is standing behind me saying helpful things like, “Hurry! Hurry! You don’t want to miss it!” My hand was shaking like I was trying to diffuse a ticking bomb with tweezers and a blindfold.
But friends… we did it. We secured the club spot. I practically fell to the floor like I had just survived The Hunger Games.
And then, a text from my mom friend popped up:
“She got waitlisted. Logged in at 8:00 too. Club was full by 8:02.”
TWO MINUTES!!
It’s the same story everywhere. You want a spot in a community class? Better be on that site at 8am SHARP or your kid’s going to be stuck home crafting with dried spaghetti noodles and shame. Preschool registration opened at MIDNIGHT back in January and I was literally in bed with my laptop like I was bidding on eBay in 2006. A friend didn’t log on the first day and ended up #34 on the waitlist—for a school her family had been part of for FIVE YEARS.
Don’t even get me started on volunteering for classroom events. That email goes out and it’s like a Black Friday doorbuster. Blink and you’re the only one who didn’t sign up to bring juice boxes, and now you’re bringing the entire petting zoo and 40 cupcakes.
And heaven help you if your kid wakes up sick. The pediatrician’s office opens at 8:00AM. You call at 8:01 and suddenly you’re caller #19. By the time you get through, the earliest slot is at 4:45pm and your child has already built a blanket fort of doom in your living room and coughed on every single surface.
Bottom line? If you’re not sprinting through life like a caffeinated admin assistant with ten browsers open and three devices logged in, you’re falling behind. I don’t even want to win anymore. I just want to rest.
But I’ve got a calendar full of “optional but highly encouraged” events, a puppy chewing on the Wi-Fi cord, and a post-it note on my forehead that says check school email. So I’ll just sip my lukewarm coffee and keep pressing forward like the professional mom-ninja I’ve had to become.
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