My kids, like any other kids that are growing up today, are faced with an onslaught of technology at all times of the day. They talk to my Alexa during lunch, grab my phone to Google what aioli is, and use their Chromebooks for school.
And that’s not including their recreational screen time.
As I type this, my son and 2 of his friends are sitting in his room, all on separate devices playing Roblox. It’s maddening. I encourage them to put their devices away. They proceed to have a jousting match with light sabers and crash over my other’s son sports memorabilia display. 5 minutes of sheepish quiet later, and I go check on them — they’re back on screens.
Needless to say, limiting their screen time is an uphill climb both ways in the snow.
I keep thinking I wish I could give them my childhood – one where they have to go outside for hours at a time, making up games, building forts, inventing recipes. I am slowly realizing that recreating my childhood is an impossibility. It doesn’t exist. Gone are the days of screen time being limited to Sunday morning cartoons and then spending the rest of the day in the pool, at the park, or making up Double Dare challenges for my big brother.
For nostalgia’s sake, I grabbed my childhood phone from my parent’s basement the last time I was there. I showed my kids how I would press the call waiting buttons under the handset when I heard another call coming through, but I would have NO IDEA WHO IT WAS. I encouraged them to try holding the handset, the delicious sensory feel of being able to cradle your phone in between your ear and shoulder.
They laughed at me as I pretended to have a conversation about Saturday night plans as my 15-year old self. Silly mom with her and her 90s childhood. A few minutes later, they were back on their phones.
I recently tried taking their phones away for a week as a detox. For that week, I finally felt at peace again in my house. They weren’t on their phones whenever I wasn’t looking. They went outside to shoot hoops and go for a bike ride. Saturday night came, and the tweens were like possessed demons, looking for their phones and immediately retreating to the couch to see what they had missed. I don’t even let them have social media, but still, they are constantly staring at their device. It feels hopeless.
I set screen time limits, content restrictions, all sorts of parental controls, but it never seems to work right. I set my alarm to remind me to check them twice a day in case they’ve gotten around the limits, or the limits have reset. I change my password and update it in my password app once a day. I set myself a reminder each night to make sure the phones are at my bedside table. If they’re not, they lose them the next day. Instead of a mom, I’ve turned into a one-woman digital police force.
I debate taking their devices away forever some days. But then it feels like that might turn out like the kid whose mom won’t let them have any junk food who ends up hoarding it at his friends’ houses. Not a great look.
I asked my friend whose kids range from 9-18 how she limits her kids’ screen time. Her answer? She doesn’t and she didn’t. It’s a losing battle and she’d rather focus her energy elsewhere.
It’s a sobering thought.
I’m not sure what the answer is, but I know that this new phase of parenting feels much more burdensome than the last. Sitting with my toddler doing the same puzzle over and over again – while mind-numbing in its own right – feels so much simpler than this.
Scrolling for answers on the internet feels ironic, as I waste time on a screen looking for ways to limit my kids’ use of screens. Sigh. Excuse my while I go check on the boys.