Tethered to Technology

Sharing Saturday

I am working from home today, as I do most days, and have a sniffly eight-year-old at my side.  Although my son was probably well enough to go to school, I think that when you're in third grade, you can have a quiet day with mom when you're not feeling completely up to snuff.

However, a day at home with this working mom means a day with mom umbilically tied to the computer and phone, trying to make it seem like she can get everything done while she is tending a sick child. 

Much as I wish it meant that we could spend the day together playing Clue and snuggling up with a movie and having a leisurely hot lunch that I actually cook, in reality it means grabbing a few minutes of my attention in between conference calls and email exchanges and finally giving in and allowing him to play Wii much longer than he should.

This is the life I have chosen as a consultant with my own home-grown business.  I would not trade the flexibility I have for anything.  With three children, there is always a school meeting, a class trip, an early release day, or a child with a sniffle who needs the couch and a hug.  And for the most part, my clients understand that I work at home, with typical distractions.  So long as I produce, they are satisfied with the arrangement.

But it doesn't mitigate the underlying guilt I have that I am not giving my child my full attention.  Although I happily have been a mom who works "outside the home" since my oldest child was born, there is a part of me that feels that I should be devoting still more time to the child-rearing duties.  Part of it is the visceral "mom thing," part of it is a reaction to societal pressure (how many times can I turn down the school when they ask me to participate in yet another daytime activity) and part of it is my kids' real, pressing and ever-present needs.

However, taking my son out for a quick lunch today put this guilt in perspective.  We passed by a young mom with a toddler who was no more than 18 months old.  The baby was running around a busy downtown street by himself, not holding his mom's hand.  She was distracted, talking on her cell phone, until he toddled into a green patch that has been designated as a "doggy park."  At that point she yelled out to him from 10 feet away.  He, not surprisingly, did not listen.  He cut a swath through the grass as she continued to yell at him and scream that the grass was dirty.  But she didn't put down her phone and grab him to physically take him out, which would be the logical and only effective way to remove an 18-month-old from such a situation.  Instead, she gave up and continued with her conversation.

I have begun to see this more and more.  Parents pushing strollers with their heads cocked to hold onto their cell phones, or with Bluetooth monitors flashing in their ears, talking to the sky.  But rarely are they talking to their children, as I did when my kids were in strollers and before cell phones were ubiquitous. We would take long walks, and oftentimes I found these to be ideal times chat with my kids, even before they were capable of chatting back. I would point out the bird, the street light, the recycling bin in the street.  Child specialists believe that this talk is critical for children, regardless of whether they are talking yet, because this is how kids learn. They pick up language and signals from us, and our conversations with them are the beginning of their socialization. If we are too busy talking to each other and ignoring our children, what are they learning?

 Now, I am as guilty as the next mom or dad who has been hijacked by technology.  I am incessantly checking my email, my phone, my Facebook page. I claim that it's because I have clients who need to reach me. The truth is that I, like most of us, want to feel important and wanted.  It used to be that we got that rush of importance once a day, when our mail arrived, and we could see who was thinking of us.  But today, we can get that rush multiple times each hour. Addicted, we want to see who needs us, who is thinking of us, to whom we have to respond immediately. 

But at the end of the day, I don’t have to look at my Blackberry to know who really needs me.  Every day.  Every hour.  No technology needed.

Comments

[Stacy]

I think you've really hit on something here, Karen. The incomparable Jane Brody wrote a column for The New York Times a few weeks ago lamenting that the moms and nannies (unfortunately, she leaves out the dads) she sees in her neighborhood spend more time talking on their cellphones and listening to their iPods than talking to their children. See http://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/29/health/29brod.html?_r=1. Brody was coming at this from a language development perspective for young children but I think it's just as important with older kids to really talk to them - and listen to them - with your full attention. I'm sometimes guilty of being distracted by technology too but your post is a good reminder to be intentional and present for our kids.

[Rachel Martin]

I struggle with the same -- knowing that not only do my kids need my attention (more than what I am currently giving), but that someday, they won't need me at all. And what happens then if and when they don't seek me out? I don't want to be an old mother singing "Cats In The Cradle". But at the same time, much of what I'm tending to, I want to tend to. Just not enough hours in the day to do everything, and do it well.