They say a smartwatch is 'the thing'. The gadget that’ll change my life, track my every move, remind me to breathe (how thoughtful), and — best of all — make sure I never miss a message from my children again.

Apparently, I can now see texts on my wrist.

“Mom! You’ll never miss my messages again!” they said.

Alas, have they seen the font size on my phone? I need reading glasses and the torch app just to make out a WhatsApp from two feet away. Now they want me to squint at my wrist like Sherlock Holmes studying a clue. I’ll need triple magnifiers and a glass of wine… make it a bottle.

And then there’s the charging. Another thing to plug in?

I can barely remember to charge my phone—now I have to keep track of yet another forlorn cable that will inevitably disappear into the Bermuda Triangle of chargers. To be fair, my grandmother used to wind her watch every night, so maybe it’s in the genes. If only I could remember where I put the blasted cable.

Next, they tell me it tracks my steps.

Apparently, this is motivating.

But tell me, why would I need a reminder that I’ve done 10,000 steps when I’ve spent the morning chasing dogs, cats, children, and grandchildren who all need feeding, fetching, or finding? I don’t need a smartwatch to tell me I’m active—my knees already do that. Loudly.

Then come the health features—the true test of one’s blood pressure.

“Mom, it can even monitor your heart rate!”

Darling, the mention of blood pressure monitoring is enough to send mine up twenty points. The heart rate tracker says I’m “stressed.” Of course I am—I’m trying to find the workout icon with menopausal fingers on a two-centimetre screen while it keeps timing out.

And don’t even get me started on BMI.

According to this brutally honest little device, I’m obese. O.B.E.S.E.

Excuse me? I lift weights three to five times a week! I’m strong enough to carry the emotional baggage of this household and a 25 kg bag of dog food. Yet this shiny tattletale on my wrist thinks I’m one bag of crisps away from disaster.

To be fair, it does have its charms. It’s sleek. It’s modern. It makes me look like I know what I’m doing, even when I’m padding around the house in my gown and slippers. Maybe my kids will finally think I’m “cool.” (Unlikely. But a girl can dream.)

So do I need a smartwatch? Probably not.

But will I wear it? DEFINITELY.

Because if it can’t lower my blood pressure, track my mood swings, or remind me where I put my glasses—at least it can FIND MY PHONE. YES, PLEASE. Now if only it could also find my keys, my handbag, my sanity, my pills, my glasses, and occasionally my dogs and the grandchild… then we’d really be talking life-changing technology.

OH! And if it could tell me, “You deserve a glass of wine(and a bag of crisps). Good job getting through today!” — well, then we’d be onto something.