as published at the OC Register May 16, 2012:
A few nights ago, I saw a basket at a party filled with cell phones. An attached handwritten stick-it note read: "Why not hang out with your friends who are actually here?"
An hour later, while still partying it up with my FB posse, I clicked on a link to an article entitled "How to Miss a Childhood." And there, I saw this picture of a woman holding her phone in one hand and a picture of her children in the other. And I read how a life spent heeding every text, alert, status, check-in, ping, tweet, comment, like, and share that beckon us all day long will eventually land you at your child’s high school graduation, where you’ll realize you missed it all — their entire childhood.
Great point, I thought, looking around the room for someone to agree. The only problem was there was no one else in the room with me, and the basket was not real — but a picture I was looking at on Facebook. Once again, I was "hanging out" with my friends online, too busy with my media to gather together with the real, live people in my life.
Sitting alone in a room humming with electronic byproduct, attached to a handheld device that has really become more of a body part, I couldn’t shake the notion that somebody was trying to tell me something — and ironically, they knew that using a handheld device was the only way to do it.
I set down my phone, stunned. Then I slid it under a pillow. Then pulled it back out, turned it OFF, and slid it back under the pillow.
"Kids?" I summoned.
They ran in from their various corners.
"I have a serious question to ask you, and I want you to answer honestly." Eyes widened.
"Do you think I spend too much time on my phone and laptop?"
I didn’t receive an answer as much as a cacophany of giggles and bobble heads, nodding in the affirmative.
"Well, look kids, no hands!" I exclaimed, showing them 10 fingers, no phone. "From now on, I’m yours. When you’re home, when you’re awake, I’m unplugged and dialed into you."
Their dubious looks mirrored the reality I was suppressing: that this could be harder than I thought. I even sensed a twinge of fear, that this new movement may also result in the removal of the car movies, apps, and Instagram to which they are likewise addicted. ‘Tis true that my iLife is hereditary, the Apple literally not falling far from the tree.
But I'm going for it. Today marks the first day of my hands-free life. And it may take me a little longer than usual to update you on how it’s going, but my kids will be the better for it.
Rachel Macy Stafford is the author of the "How to Miss a Childhood" article, found at her blog and mission:HandsFreeMama.com. Join the movement and take the oath:
An hour later, while still partying it up with my FB posse, I clicked on a link to an article entitled "How to Miss a Childhood." And there, I saw this picture of a woman holding her phone in one hand and a picture of her children in the other. And I read how a life spent heeding every text, alert, status, check-in, ping, tweet, comment, like, and share that beckon us all day long will eventually land you at your child’s high school graduation, where you’ll realize you missed it all — their entire childhood.
Great point, I thought, looking around the room for someone to agree. The only problem was there was no one else in the room with me, and the basket was not real — but a picture I was looking at on Facebook. Once again, I was "hanging out" with my friends online, too busy with my media to gather together with the real, live people in my life.
Sitting alone in a room humming with electronic byproduct, attached to a handheld device that has really become more of a body part, I couldn’t shake the notion that somebody was trying to tell me something — and ironically, they knew that using a handheld device was the only way to do it.
I set down my phone, stunned. Then I slid it under a pillow. Then pulled it back out, turned it OFF, and slid it back under the pillow.
"Kids?" I summoned.
They ran in from their various corners.
"I have a serious question to ask you, and I want you to answer honestly." Eyes widened.
"Do you think I spend too much time on my phone and laptop?"
I didn’t receive an answer as much as a cacophany of giggles and bobble heads, nodding in the affirmative.
"Well, look kids, no hands!" I exclaimed, showing them 10 fingers, no phone. "From now on, I’m yours. When you’re home, when you’re awake, I’m unplugged and dialed into you."
Their dubious looks mirrored the reality I was suppressing: that this could be harder than I thought. I even sensed a twinge of fear, that this new movement may also result in the removal of the car movies, apps, and Instagram to which they are likewise addicted. ‘Tis true that my iLife is hereditary, the Apple literally not falling far from the tree.
But I'm going for it. Today marks the first day of my hands-free life. And it may take me a little longer than usual to update you on how it’s going, but my kids will be the better for it.
Rachel Macy Stafford is the author of the "How to Miss a Childhood" article, found at her blog and mission:HandsFreeMama.com. Join the movement and take the oath:
"I’m going Hands Free. I want to make memories, not to-do-lists. I want to feel the squeeze of my daughter's arms, not the pressure of over-commitment. I want to get lost in conversation with my spouse, not consumed by a sea of unimportant emails. I want to be overwhelmed by sunsets that give me hope, not by extracurricular commitments that steal my joy. I want the noise of my life to be a mixture of laughter and gratitude, not the intrusive buzz of cell phones and text messages. I am letting go of distraction, disconnection, and perfection to live a life that simply, so very simply, consists of what really matters. I’m going Hands Free. And if this sounds like a life you want to start living, come along. A Hands Free revolution starts here! I hope you will join me!"
