Unreachable

The conversation around social media bans for kids has been hard to avoid lately, and I’m not quite sure I have enough information to form an opinion on it yet. Parenting in the digital age feels a little bit like we’re building the plane while flying it.

But the whole conversation has made me notice something uncomfortable about myself: I’m not entirely thrilled with my own relationship with my phone these days. I find myself reaching for it constantly, often without any real reason at all.

Which is why I recently bought a real alarm clock.

Not because my phone alarm wasn’t working, but because I was tired of scrolling being the last thing I did at night and the first thing I did in the morning. The clock now sits on my nightstand like it’s 1998, and my phone spends the night in a different room.

More importantly, I’m trying to intentionally put my phone down when I’m spending time with my kids.

The funny thing is that I don’t even post much anymore. A few years ago, I would have documented every little thing. Now, I send photos and updates directly to the people who actually want to see them.

But, I still scroll.

I am, by my own definition, a social creeper. I like knowing who’s expecting. Who moved. Whose children suddenly look old enough to drive. I like feeling in the know.

The strange part is that I know my real life is more compelling than whatever is happening on my phone. I’d rather sit on the deck playing Skip-Bo with the kids, watch their trampoline performances, and have long uninterrupted conversations with friends.

And yet, I still catch myself reaching for my phone during all of it. Not because I want to scroll, but because it’s become an unfortunate reflex.

Since putting my phone down more often, I’ve become much slower at getting back to people. At first, this felt deeply irresponsible. Now, I’m realizing that very few things actually require an immediate response.

Which is perhaps why I’ve even caught myself seriously considering getting a landline. The idea of being reachable, but not constantly reachable, feels strangely liberating. The problem isn’t that I’m escaping a boring life. The problem is that I keep interrupting a good one. 

I still don’t know where I land on social media bans for kids. I suspect the answer is nuanced. But I do know that if I want my children to embrace boredom, tap into their imagination, and discover a world beyond the device in their hands, I probably need to model that a little better myself.

Because if I’m asking my kids to look up from their screens once in a while, perhaps it’s only fair that I do, too.