Should I just give up?
I knew I already lost the battle.Â
Jonathan (apathetically, on the phone): I know, Mom.
Really? Does he know that his “streak” of 11, 13, and 14-hour days of screen time is making him dumber? And the other days at his Dad’s were equally impressive or horrifying (depending on how you look at it): 8, 9, and 12 hours.
Me: Do you remember what I asked you first?
Jonathan (sarcastically): That you were just checking that I remembered how to talk.
Me (…not willing to give up on the war): Good! Yes, it is possible to forget how to talk with another living being if you play Call of Duty too long. Now, what are you gonna do after our call?
Jonathan: I’m going to go on Amazon and find a Sudoku book, or a new craft, like a hook-and-loop rug, and ask Dad to get it for me.
Me (bringing out my inner cheerleader): I am so proud of you for trying something new, sweetheart. And let me know what you end up getting!
Jonathan: Bye.
Me (maybe not hearing the click in time): Bye, I love you and don’t worry if you fail at the new hobbies – keep going!
UPDATE: Surprise, Surprise. He didn’t get anything.
Retro Eggs
Maybe I should have waited until he was home and tried the egg approach. I can picture it now. Both kids on the other side of the kitchen counter, their gazes fixed. In front of me, I have a hot skillet on the stove. Butter is sizzling. Holding up an egg in my hand:
Me: Okay. Last time. This is your brain. (Cracking egg and putting it in the pan.) This is your brain on screen time. Any questions?
Their mouths, agape, would communicate a new level of glorious understanding. They would never look at their phones, iPads, Chromebooks, iPad Minis, or PS4 the same way again. Problem solved.
Back when they were Listeners
Seriously, when did they stop listening?
It wasn’t THAT long ago that they would snuggle in bed next to me for a classic retelling of McElligott’s Pool or How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Even at 10, their eyes would glaze over with any chapter book, like The Secret Garden. I had them with Dr. Seuss, I’m sure of it. Book reading went by the wayside, however, once their book choices morphed into main characters of mice, dog sitters, and anthems of Weird But True facts. The classicist in me couldn’t bridge the divide.
So, I tried something else to get them to listen: food. A couple of my best hits:
- “First, we’re gonna share 3 things we’re grateful for, then we can make some lavender shortbread cookies,” and
- “Let’s each talk about a time we said or felt a microaggression over this homemade guac. “
But are they just placating for food? As teenagers, they are sneakier (and hungrier) than ever.
Desperate, I turned to books. I gleaned a real gem from The Grown Up’s Guide to Teenage Humans: trap them in the car. If you start a conversation in the car, they have nowhere to go. This talk will be easy for them, because, like a nervous dog, they don’t have to look you in the eye.
In the car
I gave my son front-seat privilege so we, like 2 friendly dogs on a walk, could converse on the way to school. It was amazing! We talked about his relationship with his dad, homework, and his feelings. Things were going swimmingly until the third week.
We were a block from my son’s school. I pointed out a house on our left that had Christmas lights on. I turned to see his expression. There it was, one AirPod hanging from his right ear. A sly smile crossed his face. He had not been listening to me the past three weeks.
- Listening from Dad’s house? Nope.
- Listening in the car? Definitely not.
- Listening over food? Unknown.
That leaves me just one choice left. It’s time to bring back storytime, maybe something along the lines of Oh, The Anti-Racist Places You’ll Go.
POEM: Mom’s Turn to…
We talk and we point. We beg and we groan. They do not listen here, or there, or on the way home. Maybe the student is the true teacher, silently waiting for mom’s lips to end today’s feature. For lo and behold, when you open your ears, you'll never believe the gift inside they might let you hear.
The SoulJourner Question
I have been evolving from “the interrupting chicken” (a product of low self-esteem + a protective ego) to more of a humble, listening human. Though, somedays, it’s difficult to practice this. But the rewards have been a blessing: true, deep connections. This is one journey I will always be on. For me, it will always be worth the climb.
PROMPT: Do you remember a time you appreciated your parents’ advice? Do you remember what it was? Lemme know!
