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The five-year-old approached in a manner suggesting a robbery was imminent. I sat comfortably on a living room chair, iPhone in hand, reading Twitter, all too aware that my alone time, my “me time,” my time to be a relaxed, kid-free adult for just 10 minutes, was about to be interrupted.
“Dah’deeeee,” the boy said. “Trytogetme!” And off he dashed quickly around a couch and into the foyer, giggling and looking over his shoulder to see if I was lumbering behind, intent on catching him.
I would love to tell you that I made what many of you consider to be the “right” choice, the sentimental choice, the dare-I-say-it “mindful parent” choice. But I’ve also made a career of writing truthful stories.
Mindfulness. That buzzword—from when, 2013?—is still passed around today in parenting magazine articles and on friends’ Facebook status updates, the ones extolling the happiness they feel when they turn off the phone and just focus on their children.
Good for them. Meanwhile, another email just buzzed my phone, and I can hear it rattle, even when I’ve placed the phone in another room in our house. I’m trying to build a new train track layout on the living room floor for my boys. I attempt to forget the buzz. I try to focus on building the greatest Thomas & Friends track system since the heyday of steam locomotives, but the fact that someone or something sent me an email just gnaws on my conscience.
Mindfulness, in case you haven’t caught the wave, is the idea of tuning out all distractions to focus on what you’re doing, right here, right now, whether it’s eating a delicious California roll or just breathing. No multitasking. No checking your DMs. Clear your mind. Just be present.
Sounds awesome.
The concept has developed into a pushback of sorts against our new parenting world of ubiquitous cellphones, iPads, Bluetooth, WiFi, and streaming apps. There was life before smartphones. There can be life after smartphones. Advocates for mindful parenting remind us that focusing on our children in the moment, and nothing else, is, you know, what previous generations just called parenting.
Few activities elicit more guilt and mental self-flogging than when I realize I’m failing to be mindful, paying attention to my iPhone instead of being present for my boys.
But is mindfulness even realistic in 2018?
If you’re a stay-at-home parent, apps on your phone help you parent in this contemporary age; got a question on how to remove glue from a kid’s hair? There’s a YouTube video for that. They also provide conversations, attention, hope, information, and satisfy a million other mental cravings when our day-to-day environment has shrunk to the house and we field constant requests from our kids for the Justin Timberlake song from the Trolls soundtrack (dance on, JT; dance on).
I’m not a monk living in a quiet mountainside temple overlooking some spiritual valley. I’m an American stay-at-home dad in 2018 who, when he’s not serving microwaved hot dogs or making sure the three-year-old avoids climbing the wrong side of the banister, is building a small business and chasing freelance writing opportunities. I like YouTube. I like Twitter. I like Instagram.
I also love my children. Someone recently asked me what I consider to be “home,” and my answer is that, at 39 years old, it’s not a geographical place but rather when I’m in the presence of my wife and our boys, no matter where on Google Maps we find ourselves.
Loving our modern world and loving our children are not mutually exclusive. As parents, we face a more complicated reality than a binary choice between mindfulness and distraction by way of handheld WiFi enabled devices. There’s a third way–balance.
I set specific times during the day when I put the phone out of reach (at the table eating lunch, story time, etc.) and must discipline myself to remain committed. I also went back to reading physical books instead of digital ones because I wanted my children to see me in the act of reading (instead of staring at another screen in our house). But I also need time to connect to friends and other adults, to share, to learn, to be entertained. And so I can give myself iPhone time, even in front of my kids. I’m human.
Think about this—as humans, we don’t go backwards. We didn’t start using computers and then one day decide using a Remington typewriter with a shelf full of heavy encyclopedia volumes served us better. We move forward, and moving forward means our children’s lives will be dominated by portable, time-saving, information-busting technology.
Time and attention are fleeting, and as parents, they’re among our most important commodities. Who deserves it more? That photo you want to like on Facebook or the child who wants to play? Yes, I should’ve gotten up and chased my son around the house, just as he requested. The day’s coming when he won’t want to play with me.
But we cannot make these digital distractions disappear completely. Maybe for an hour we can, but not completely. And I don’t want to because children need to know how to effectively use them in relation to friendships, romance, or careers. Better that we learn how to effectively use this technology so we can pass down principles to our kids. That phone in your hand right now or some other unforeseen technology will be an even greater part of their lives than it is of ours right now.
Go ahead. Forgive yourself for not being completely mindful. We’ll learn to balance between complete mindfulness and screen time.
Dave is a Lancaster-based stay-at-home father, writer, and professional photographer.
Read more at CreativelyGenuine.com and follow him on Twitter, Instagram and NorthArch.
