- I'm mom of three and work full-time.
- I've tried being inbox zero in the past, but it just doesn't stick.
- I have so many things to deal with — between work and home — that I don't care about my email anymore.
I love that blissful feeling when I start a new job with a shiny new laptop and new email address, and for a moment, I think to myself — this is it. This is my moment to be the person with inbox zero. I can do this. No one knows the toxic state of my prior inbox. I can and will be a notification ninja now — just watch.
A few HR-related emails are waiting. Got it. Delete, delete.
A welcome email. That was nice. Delete.
An invite to my first meeting: Hooray! Delete.
And just like that, I am back to inbox zero.
It never stays like that
But slowly, the red notification bubble comes for me over a long weekend — from spammy agencies, from emails with attachments that I don't want to lose track of, from someone I want to reply to but just not this second — and I am back to my old ways: using my inbox as a storage facility for things I need to be able to go back and find "just in case."
So how does this happen? Is it nature or nurture? Are we born as an inbox zero "type" or notification junkie, like how cilantro is either delish or soapy? Perhaps this is the next genetic unlock for the at-home testing kits.
I'm a working mom of 3
I think that test would reveal notification overload isn't genetic — I've realized it's deeply systemic.
For me, it's a tangible look at the overflow bin of a mother's mental load: 62% of working mothers take less than an hour to themselves every day (and when I get that hour, it's not to get to inbox zero). Mothers with full-time jobs in America work an average of 14 hours a day or 98 hours a week between child and home duties and their actual jobs.
It's only this week when I looked at my iPhone, and my apps looked like they had a bad case of measles. I realized my 600 unread text messages, 309 unlistened to voicemails, and 93,449 unread emails from both work, personal, kids, and family email addresses are really just a reflection of the invisible red bubble over my head at all times.
You see, I have a 6-year-old, a 4-year-old, and an almost 2-year-old. I run marketing and comms at a venture-backed company where things only seem to speed up rather than slow down as the fastest-growing infant formula company since the 80s. This career opportunity and job that I love just so happens to intersect in the exact season of life as raising young children.
I have mental notifications too
I have three different school drop-offs at three different schools. I open my eyes, and the notifications in my head start popping.
It's water day at the day care; don't forget the swim diaper. Today's Monday, so the Kindergartener has to wear the jumper, not the skirt uniform. Don't forget to call the dentist and tell them you don't want X-rays again. Take the chicken out to thaw it. Did I run the dishwasher with the lunchboxes last night? I need to figure out what we are doing for Thanksgiving, or it's all going to be booked up. Shit— I think parents' night is this Thursday. I need to find a sitter. Oh wait, did I ever remember to Venmo the sitter from last week? We have a birthday party on Saturday, remember to get a gift. The first t-ball practice is this weekend. I need to Amazon that helmet and bat. Did I change my tampon last night?
And then here is where the nonstop notification culture has really twisted the knife on mothers: Slack.
It's a whack-a-mole of clearing notifications. "Da da da" "da da da" "DA DA DA." If you use Slack you know this sound: "da da da." It's never-ending at a fully remote company across four American time zones. It's a symphony of Slacks throughout my day. Some things are urgent; some things are just a good laugh; some things I'm being tagged into as people wait for me to make a decision. It all comes in with the same "da da da," and you have to check and vet before moving on it, marking it saved for later, or just adding an emoji for acknowledgment.
The urgency of Slack has left the other communication channels in the notification dumpster fire on my phone.
I'm not triggered by my thousands of unread emails
And even then, I have complete and total notification fatigue. Inbox 93,449 does not even trigger me anymore. I know that it's not a reflection of my ability to prioritize what's important. I will never have an inbox zero. Or laundry zero. Or dish zero. There are no zeroes in this season of life as a mother with a job except the zero fucks I no longer give with pretending I can "do it all."
Furthermore, perhaps being anti-inbox zero is a secret superpower. I know I can operate within the chaos, I am never bogged down in clearing the next email alert or reading and deleting every text. I don't even listen to voicemails but rather quickly read the transcriptions to check for anything important.
If you can operate within your own chaos, you can stop feeling like you are a failure for not getting to every single "ding!" you will free yourself from the notification fatigue.
And as I like to remind my 6-year-old daughter — women can do anything, but they don't have to do everything. And you bet your ass that includes living a lawless notification overload life.
