I’m in my fifties, and I’m part of the first generation of parents whose children possibly knew more about technology than we did. Ten years ago, I didn't believe my daughter when she insisted she absolutely had to have MSN. I didn’t even know what MSN was.
What a difference a decade makes! Now I have an iPhone that tracks my heart rate, helps me fall asleep with hypnosis, and even corrects me when I make a wrong turn in the car. My 90-year-old mother once asked if I was talking on my phone, and I replied, “Actually, I’m talking to my phone.”
Siri has become my new best friend. I rely on my phone so much that I call it my boyfriend. So, if you hear me say, “I’ll check with my boyfriend,” rest assured, I’m not having an affair!
In truth, I’d rather have my car stolen than lose my phone. Technology has advanced so rapidly in the last few years that I’m not even sure where the boundaries are anymore. I’m constantly amazed by how many people are glued to their phones—whether they’re walking down the street, standing at bus stops (perhaps their phone is telling them when the next bus is arriving), or even when they’re having lunch with a friend.
What surprises me now is when people aren’t on their phones. But what really worries me is seeing parents on their phones when they should be spending time with their kids. Is technology interfering with their ability to be present during moments that can be so special? Are we sending our children the message that they come second to our devices?
I can’t even begin to imagine how to set boundaries around kids’ use of technology. These devices are incredibly helpful—suggesting dinner ideas or even functioning as babysitters. Recently, I was shopping at a mall and passed by a Mac Makeup store. In a tandem stroller, a two-year-old was playing on an iPad, while his older sister, about four, was engrossed in a smartphone. Meanwhile, Mom was getting her makeup done.
Thirty minutes later, I walked by again, and nothing had changed. The kids were still absorbed in their devices, and Mom was still enjoying her makeover. I can’t deny it—I would have been tempted to do the same thing when my kids were young. I would have been lured by the baby app that stops two-month-olds from crying by showing them moving shapes on a black-and-white screen.
Would I have downplayed concerns about how this might affect my child’s developing brain? Probably.
I often wonder how I would have found balance if I had my “boyfriend” (i.e., smartphone) ten years ago. For starters, I’d probably have to give up my Facebook Scrabble addiction, which already has a strong pull on me. If I didn’t, I’d be making lots of extra trips to the smallest room in the house just to make my next move!
Sure, I’d try to commit to leaving my smartphone at home when going to the park or for walks, but then again, what if there was an emergency? Like, someone posting on Facebook that they just had a freshly baked blueberry muffin.
Come to think of it, what if I wanted to take a picture or video of my kids and send it to my mother and my 256 friends on Instagram?
I think the dinner table is where I’d draw the line. No phones at the table! I have to exercise some discipline when it comes to that “sexy little friend” of mine—seriously.
So, where are we going with all this technology? Truthfully, we don’t know. But here’s what we do know: