“Mom, stop ignoring me!”
This from Suzy, almost to the point of tears. But the real guilt-zinger? Not only did I have zero idea of what she had been saying, I had had zero idea that she was even STANDING there.
Yes. I was on my phone. And yes, I was confirming an activity- for her. At first I was, anyhow. Then I was scrolling through the Facebook feed of someone I didn’t actually like all that much, and hadn’t really liked all that much in a long time.
(Oh God. This might turn into my least sympathetic post ever.)
I explained to Zu that I had been checking a…thing…sort of related to something for her…but she was having none of it.
And I couldn’t really blame her.
Didn’t I, just last week, promise her in a birthday blog that I’d be the more-present Mom that she deserves? (…Sigh, yes.) So why am I walking around the house, doing day-to-day tasks with a phone in my hand? Am I waiting for a call from Publisher’s Clearing House? (HA. That was a trick question. They come to the DOOR.)
No, I’m waiting for something- anything to come and distract me. And barring that, I’ll go scroll for it. For roughly fifteen of my seventeen waking hours each day. Articles, memes, funny roundups, nostalgia traps, pictures of kittens and bunnies eating things, word games (for brain power, dammit!), texted hilarity, and emails re-emailed to other email recipients reminding us all of that time we emailed something totally non-textable.
I’m not bored. I’m not even particularly dissatisfied with anything. No, what I am is addicted to the dopamine rush of seeing everything happening to everyone, everywhere. Frankly, that’s fun.
But it doesn’t even remotely relate to “downtime-” explaining why I never seem to feel relaxed after a social media frenzy- and my phone has zero place pulling up a chair at afternoon snack, during bath time, or any other occasion where I have the opportunity to look in my kids’ faces as they speak words from their mouths.
(…She types as she quickly closes browsers sharing stories about the passage of time and mindfulness. I am seriously the worst.)
“Isn’t she terrible?” “Yep, awful.”
Yes, I work largely online. And no, my children shouldn’t expect my immediate attention all day long. But- come on. Is scrolling Instagram feeds making me money? (Only about 10% of the time.) And I’d like to say that the majority of instances where my kids ask me a question, I’m not glued to a device. I’d like to say that.
I don’t think I’m alone in this one. Go ahead and Google “social media breaks,” and you’ll see an incredible number of posts, blogs, and how-to detox guides encouraging the art of powering down. (A related Google search that came up: “delete all social media.” Slow your roll, beatnik.) When did communication become something that we needed to take a vacation and recharge from?
Don’t get me wrong; I’m sure, back in the day, my folks had a lot of ways to ignore me when I was being bratty or the day was being long. But an ever-refreshing screen containing all the info in the known world? That seems a tad hard to compete against.
So I turned to Susannah and did what any self-respecting, touchy-feely mother of the 2010s would do.
I apologized.
I crouched down, looked her in the eyes, and said “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. You’re right. It was rude of me to be staring at my phone while you asked me something (…four?) times. I’ll try harder to put down my phone and hang out with you before school. Do you forgive me?”
She ate that up. SHE ATE THAT UP.
“I accept your apology,” she graciously told me. “I accept YOUR apology,” she reminded me for the rest of the day, thrilled each and every time.
Which is pretty much the making for a whole ‘nother blog post. One that I’ll absolutely write.
Once I power back up next Monday morning.
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