Unplugging

Five or six years ago, I was in the midst of deciding whether or not to allow my then-young-teen daughters to begin engaging in social media. Like many parents at the time, I wrestled with the neurological effects that increased online activity might have on their still-developing brains. And I worried about exposure to cyberbullying and the possibility that they’d be targeted for trafficking.

Those with teens and younger children now have even more to consider. Neurological and safety concerns still exist. And now we’re also dealing with a level of extreme online vitriol the likes of which we couldn’t have imagined five years ago, along with its twin cousins of censorship and “cancel culture.” Whereas we used to fear that a child would be bullied online by his peers, now it’s just as possible that adults will unrelentingly go after a young person in the vilest of ways. And the platforms themselves feel entitled to monitor our every move and even – God help us – our thoughts.

Among those who’ve been victimized by such extremes, I’m seeing an exodus. Some have moved to alternate platforms, but many have opted to greatly reduce or even eliminate their virtual presence. I applaud them. I believe that more and more people are realizing that both they and their children are far better off focusing on the smaller-scale but healthier influence of offline, real-life relationships and activities.

I eventually allowed each of my daughters to open a Facebook account, which I closely monitored and to which I held the passwords. They both found Pinterest as well. But I was thankful that neither expressed more than a passing interest in Twitter, Instagram, or Snapchat. And I’m even more grateful that both were able to self-moderate their social media consumption.

But if they were young teens today, I wouldn’t let them near any online platforms. I would, instead, do even more than I did five years ago to help them develop and grow strong connections with local friends. I’d find more real-life activities in which they could participate. And I’d challenge myself to be a good role model by scaling way back on the social media influence in my life.

In fact, I’ve recently been working on that, and it’s already paid off. I’m going out to coffee with local friends more than ever before. I’m serving as the resident “veteran” at a weekly homeschool co-op. I’m reading uplifting books and digging into the Word. I’m cooking and exercising. I still interact online, but only in a couple of select groups on a limited basis. The longer I’m away from mindless newsfeed scrolling, the less I miss it and the more I wonder why it ever held sway over so much of my time.

I don’t know if what I’m seeing in others – for themselves and their kids – and experiencing in my own life is a “new normal.” But I sure hope so. During 2020’s pandemic-related lockdowns, we recovered an appreciation for our immediate families. Maybe now it’s time to learn the value of unplugging.

CK

Photo Credit: Shutterstock via Newswise

Graduated Technology “Licensing”

Both of my daughters recently completed 30 hours of online driver education instruction and then passed permit tests at the local DMV. Thus, according to the rules in my state, each is now legally allowed to get behind the wheel of a vehicle to begin learning how to drive. But in order to receive an actual license, each must now spend no less than six months practicing, and during that time she must log at least 30 hours of driving with a parent, spend at least six hours of both observation and actual behind-the-wheel time with a certified driving instructor, take another written exam, and pass a driving skills test at the DMV. And even after all of that, each will be issued a mere probationary license for at least nine more months before finally becoming eligible for a regular license.

All the steps and rules might seem overbearing, and we might think our kids can learn to drive safely without such micromanaging. In fact, though I believe these driving rules have been developed with the best of intentions and with kids’ safety in mind, I’m generally a fan of “less is more” when it comes to governmental regulation. Yet these rules don’t violate scriptural principles, so I’m bound to obey them (Romans 13.1), like it or not.

I’m old enough to remember life without the internet and all the technology that’s come along with it. I also remember that the internet was commonly referred to as the “information superhighway” when it took off in the 1990s. And I think the term provides a very useful analogy when it comes to our kids’ cyber-safety.

Being able to drive – at any age – brings with it an enormous sense of freedom. It exponentially expands the locations a person can reasonably explore and opens many doors of opportunity. However, it’s also a serious responsibility fraught with peril of many kinds. And the same can be said for “driving” on the information superhighway. The advent of internet technology has opened up innumerable opportunities for all of us, but – from cyberbullying to online child predators to phishing scams, identity theft, and internet addiction – it’s also greatly increased the potential harms our kids face, mentally, emotionally, and physically.

As I watched each of my daughters get behind the wheel to take her first drive under my husband’s guidance, I was thankful for the graduated licensing procedure my state requires. I want my girls to gain the freedom and independence a license affords, but, of course, I want just as much for them to be safe. I don’t think we need a government policy on technology use for children – but I do think it’s imperative that each parent purpose to create and enforce a policy of “graduated licensing” for his or her kids’ use of technology. In fact, if we fail to set guidelines and rules – even when our kids don’t like them – we endanger them just as much as if we were to give our car keys to a three-year old.

Your graduated licensing policy will be different than mine; in fact, the rules may vary even among children in the same family, depending on each one’s demonstrated readiness for levels of freedom and independence. The important thing is to design and uphold some sort of graduated “licensing” policy to keep your kids safe on the information superhighway.

CK

The Death of the Monologue

“Mom, you’re monologuing.”

Said in love, I hear variations of this comment from time to time from either of my teen daughters. “Monologuing” is their term for when a person rambles on with commentary far beyond the scope of an original question or statement. I think monologuing is a sort of “occupational hazard” for parents…but it’s something we should work to avoid.

But why? Most of the time when I jump onto the monologuing bandwagon, I’m not upset. In fact, my daughters and I are usually involved in a meaningful, positive discussion when it happens, and I’m merely trying to contribute useful insight based on having lived more of life than they. But, even though they know my ultimate good intentions, monologuing inevitably comes across as “lecturing.” And lecturing shifts the dynamic of a mutually engaging, two-way conversation into interrogation-mode, which unintentionally stifles the growth of real relationship.

My pastors recently preached through the Book of James and spent significant time during one sermon on James 1.19, which says, “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger.” To emphasize the importance of the verse, the pastor preaching that week said, “We have two ears and only one mouth for a reason. It means we should listen twice as much as we speak!”

If we want to truly connect with our kids, we’ll seek the development of authentic relationship with them. In order for that to happen, they need to believe they are truly “heard.” And in order for them to be heard, we need to truly listen. We can only do that when our own mouths are shut.

That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t impart lessons we’ve learned from our own life experiences and also share wisdom from Scripture; a responsible parent will, indeed, do both. But in order to discern the most important insights to share at any given time, we must first purpose to actively and fully listen.

I have to regularly remind myself of this; monologuing comes all too naturally, while consciously choosing selective input takes work. But it’s worth the effort. I want my kids to be secure in the fact that they can talk with me – really talk, as opposed to being interrogated. Monologuing might make me feel competent and important – and it’s a great dramatic tool in Shakespearean plays. But it damages my kids’ security and my relationships with them. So real life calls for the death of the monologue, to be replaced by real, authentic dialogue.

CK

*****
Photo Credit: Steve James

Walking the Tightrope

With my kids now only a couple of years from graduating high school and launching into their adult lives, I’ve been thinking a lot about their childhoods. My girls are only eleven and a half months apart – so I was essentially pregnant for two straight years, and then spent several years burning the proverbial candle at both ends in order to meet the many and varied needs of my almost-twins. I cherish the memories of my daughters as little girls, but that was definitely a physically exhausting season of life, and I’ve generally welcomed the self-sufficiency they’ve gained with maturity.

I’m seeing, though, that this current season has its own challenges. When my kids were little, I was definitely exhausted…but I literally controlled everything in their lives – what they ate, where they went, what they watched and listened to, who and what they played with – and I found comfort knowing I was doing everything I could to keep them safe and healthy. It wasn’t about being a helicopter parent; it was simply appropriate at the time. And I’ve always known that the ultimate goal of parenting is to work one’s self out of a job. But it’s one thing to know that in my head and another thing entirely to live it. Thus, there are days now when I’d give my eye-teeth to go back to what seems in hindsight to have been a more-tired-but-simpler time, in order to quell my admitted anxiety about the “what-ifs” of my kids’ next few years.

Of course, that’s impossible. Yet – just as I couldn’t let go of their bike seats too quickly when they were learning to ride without training wheels – I can’t just leave them alone to fend for themselves either, whether that’s in real life or the Wild West world of technology. They do still need guidance, albeit in different ways than before. And – by God’s grace – they’ll still want my feedback even when they’re fully independent. So I’m trying every day to walk the tightrope of balance – being as hands-on as necessary without treating my young adults like children – and continually aiming to discern when to hold on and when to let go.  

And I’m seeing that walking that tightrope is actually what it means to “be fully present” at this stage of my kids’ lives. It’s no longer about having them with me every minute of every day. It’s no longer about me orchestrating every element of their daily schedules. It’s no longer about my husband and me being the only ones speaking into their lives. But neither is it about backing away entirely, as too many parents seem to do with their teens. Rather, it’s about a choice to remain mentally and emotionally engaged in order to accurately discern when to step back and when to step in.

This balancing act is exhausting in its own way. And right now it feels even scarier than fearing many years ago that one of my newborns would succumb to SIDS. But I purposed back then – even in my fear – to trust my girls to the Lord so I could get some rest each night. And no matter how precarious the tightrope feels, that’s what I’m trying to do now, too.

CK

*****

Photo Credit: Geoff