By: Clara Thompson
I adore my smartphone. It’s incredible how I can ask it virtually anything and receive an answer instantly. It captures precious moments with my children, lets me tackle work tasks anytime, and connects me with friends and family no matter where I am.
But I also loathe my smartphone. I despise how I no longer need to think for myself since any question I have can be answered in seconds. I resent that when I snap photos of my kids, my first instinct is to share them on social media, pulling me away from the very moments I want to cherish. Holding my phone makes me feel compelled to always be productive. I dislike that anyone can reach me at any moment, interrupting my engagement with real life.
This struggle is something many of us are grappling with. I notice it everywhere—playgrounds, cars, stores, crosswalks, movie theaters, and even family gatherings. While most of us still have a flicker of awareness, recognizing the value of face-to-face conversation over a mobile game, some individuals have surrendered completely. They’ve become entranced by the bright screen, lost in its distractions and endless flow of content.
Recently, we celebrated our daughter’s fifth birthday. She requested a simple celebration—a pool party and a Hello Kitty cake. We hurried to a hotel, relieved to avoid the hassle of organizing a big event. As we arrived at the lovely heated pool, I patted my pockets only to realize I had forgotten my phone. I tried to dismiss my anxiety about missing out on capturing the moment.
As I sat by the pool, throwing toys for the kids, I was startled to observe that every single parent around me was glued to their phones. It wasn’t just those on the edge; even parents in the hot tub were leaning over their devices. The scariest part? Had I remembered my phone, I would have been one of them. I’ve often defended my phone use, arguing that we all deserve a break from our children and that it’s necessary for work. However, witnessing so many parents absorbed by their screens was alarming.
The kids in the pool seemed unbothered, likely accustomed to their parents’ absence. My children, however, were thrilled with my undivided attention, exclaiming, “Again, Mom! Throw the ball again!” Since their birth, they’ve witnessed our disengagement. We are present one minute and then mentally checked out the next. I’m sharing this not to induce guilt or shame about phone usage, but to awaken myself. I refuse to be a smartphone zombie any longer.
Perhaps we should intentionally leave our phones behind from time to time. After all, we used to navigate life without Google Maps for the nearest coffee shop, and conversations can wait. The latest celebrity news can hold off. But my kids? They’re growing at an astonishing rate, and soon, they won’t seek my presence at all. Before long, they won’t ask me to throw toys in the pool or cheer for their splashes.
Since that day at the pool, I have deliberately chosen to forget my phone during outings to the playground, soccer games, and even at restaurants. Admittedly, life without my phone isn’t all sunshine and rainbows; the kids squabble, and I often find myself reaching for that glowing distraction. Yet, I’ve been experiencing more of what life truly has to offer. At least it feels real.
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In summary, I refuse to let my smartphone dictate my life any longer. By intentionally disconnecting from technology, I’m rediscovering the joy of being present for my children and embracing the reality of everyday moments.