She may think "LOL" means "lots of love," but she's more tech-savvy than you think she is.
"It's so simple, even your mom can use it."
"We need to explain this app in a way your mom would understand."
"I knew this network was here to stay when even my mom signed up."
In the tech world, moms are regularly invoked as the bottom of the user barrel, the hopeless laggards any tech product has to serve in spite of our limited skills. We're too numerous (and too sought-after by advertisers) to simply ignore, so tech companies and developers have to make the intuitive leap of imagining what it might be like to be that strangest of creatures, a Mother With a Keyboard (MWK).
As a mother -- and a techie -- I see the temptation of writing moms off. No matter what we moms do, it seems, we're doomed to fail in anticipating our kids' future online lives, to prepare them for the world they will live in but which has yet to appear. No wonder so many moms throw up their hands and don't even try to keep up with their own kids.
Perhaps it was easier for our mothers, who didn't anticipate how impossible it was to anticipate and prepare us for the future. And yet, looking back at the skills my own mom indoctrinated in me -- skills for a world, and a set of technologies, that are now thoroughly deprecated -- I'm struck at how fundamental those skills have proven to be in the tech world I now inhabit:
The card catalog: I was eleven years old when my mother marched me into the graduate research library of the University of Toronto, and taught me how to use their card catalog (printed on actual index cards) and the giant bound volumes that indexed each of the academic journals in the collection. I wrote high school essays on everything from Woodrow Wilson to the history of vice, each time burrowing my way through keywords and library shelves to find the answers I needed.
It has been nearly a decade since I last did research using printed books, but I use my card catalog skills on a daily basis. The ability to convert general questions into specific searchable keywords is the essential talent or any Google ninja, so my mom's insistence on developing library research skills has provided the foundation for quickly finding accurate information online.
The typewriter: Many of my women friends relate how their mothers discouraged them from learning to type, lest they be relegated to the secretarial pool. My mom took the opposite approach, first prodding and later outright bribing me into taking a touch-typing class. The electric typewriter I received as my reward was sidelined within a year by the arrival of our first home computer, and my comfort with QWERTY made me feel right at home on the new machine. Today, my wicked fast typing speed -- the product of a full thirty years of touch typing! -- means that I can blog as quickly as I can talk, or tweet as quickly as I can think. Without the barrier of hunt-and-peck, expressing myself online feels as intuitive as using that old IBM Selectric.
Microfiche: Some family basements house rec rooms or workshops. Ours housed the microfilm and microfiche reader my mother used for her research on Ancient Egypt, peering into the screen to fill in the gaps in a photo of a decayed piece of papyrus. She taught me zip through reels of newspaper archives, skimming just enough of the text to quickly find the relevant article or date. That ability to power through screen after screen of text, zooming in on the one phrase or fragment of interest, is what keeps me afloat in an online world that hurls forth volumes of links and articles each day.