Picture the scene: two mums meeting at the schoolgate to pick up their kids. They ask how the day has gone. They’ll probably agree there’s never enough hours to do everything, the house is a tip, they’ve got to get the shopping in and they’ll have to work late that night. Then off they go to express delight at a splodgy painting ‘of a tree’ their child has done; dispensing love, attention and interest despite their overwhelming tiredness and need to sit down for a cuppa.
It is not news that mothers run themselves ragged with all the jobs that have to be done. Never mind the lofty Nicola Horlick types being paraded in front of us, all mums are juggling, not only their work, household and social engagements, but the welfare of at least one other (I’m talking her child here although you might easily be thinking of her partner/husband). In the old days, running a household WAS the job and while I’m not for a minute suggesting we go back to that, it’s worth remembering. Yes, we have gadgets and online shopping, but those still have to be managed.
So, with this besieging from all sides, is it any wonder that Candy Crush, the sweet-demolishing mobile phone game, reports that women aged between 25 and 55 are the most loyal demographic.
Professor Mark Griffiths, director of the International Gaming Research Unit at Nottingham Trent University explained that it takes up all your cognitive ability because you have to concentrate on it completely. ‘That means you can forget about everything else for a few minutes, which is appealing to many women - whether you’re a stay-at-home mother who has ten minutes to play it in between childcare, or a business executive on her commute.’
Well a lot of the women I know are juggling childcare and paid work, so it’s no wonder they are so keen. I was one of those women, earlier this year. I downloaded the game last Christmas, in that glorious nothing period around New Year, when you can spend all day in your dressing gown guzzling delicacies. My 9 year old Robin had already got it. To begin with it was all fun, fun, fun, but before long I was tapping furiously, waiting impatiently for my lives to renew.
I got to Level 133. I wouldn’t have got that far without Robin, who if bargained with sufficiently, would do a level I was stuck on and then gloat about it ad infinitum. Once, and only once, I purchased some extra candies because I was so keen to catch up. The interview above was from The Daily Mail. Yikes, I’d become a Fail demographic! But it wasn’t enough to stop me. It was true about being able to push everything aside. Yes, the kitchen’s a mess again. Yes, the kids are shouting at each other again. YES, I NEED TO ANSWER THAT EMAIL AGAIN!!! But look at the pretty shapes! Listen to the bizarrely sexual voice, straight out of a James Brown number, murmuring ‘Delicious’ & ‘Sweet’ and the end-of-the-pier plinky plonk music (which I turned off fairly soon, to be honest, even when not in public). Parenting young children involves a lot of waiting about in playgrounds and beside swimming pools and while you know you should be enthralled with your darling’s every action, the reality is somewhat different. Acres of time zipped past glaring at the candies being zapped. I would flap a hand dismissively at a child bothering me, the messy kitchen, the unanswered email.
I deleted the game in June, once I’d reached the stage Robin had got to and given up at. There was no way I could manage without his assistance and I knew he wouldn’t help me once he’d moved on. I hope that I would have been able to delete it anyway. Not because it took up so much time, well not entirely. Not because when I closed my eyes after I’d been playing in the evening, I could still see the candies. Not even because I was a Fail statistic, but because it wasn’t actually bringing me any enjoyment. There was a momentary thrill when a level had been completed, but it was straight onto the next level with no real sense of accomplishment. And worst of all, every time you didn’t manage a level: ‘You Failed!’ would pop up, with its peremptory exclamation mark. Even if you quit before the end, it would make sure you got the message by telling you had failed to complete the level.
‘You Failed!’ You don’t want to be seeing that several times a day. Especially if you’re a mother juggling millions of tasks and always feeling like you’re failing anyway. Even though you’re not failing, because you’d have to be superhuman to do them all. So, I’m not needing Candy Crush to tell me I’m failing any more. When I need time out, I will take it, put my feet up and pop a real candy, in my case a square of dark chocolate, in my mouth. Delicious…!!!
