Life on hold. Convincing kids they CAN survive without their phone.

January 22, 2013

The Teenager’s eye was twitching. Her beautiful face had become distorted.

She could see it. Almost close enough to touch. Connect. Send a message on.

It was her mobile phone. And she wasn’t with it. Daughter Two as well. Stripped of their most vital possessions.

A holiday rule had been introduced. Part of the day was to be phone-less. It was like I’d asked them to shave their heads.

My first suggestion was to leave the devices behind when we went to the beach. They gave me the look. The one that Dads everywhere know. The ‘Thanks, but that won’t be happening in this lifetime’ look.

They explained that they had to take i-phone photos. Hundreds of friends were waiting. There would be action shots in the surf, and glamour shots on the sand.

These images would be posted immediately onto social media sites including Facebook, Instagram, SnapChat and WhoGivesaFlying. Ok, I made one of those up.

Everything is about photos and videos, being shared as quickly as possible. No phone, means no sharing.

With the beach off the negotiating table, I moved to meal time. Surely there was no need to have the phone during a holiday dinner?

No can do, they chorused. It’s prime-time to receive messages from friends. They’ll stay in our pockets. You won’t even know we have them with us. Promise. Because I was waiting for my own message, I didn’t push the issue. And yes, I see the irony there.

I wasn’t giving up. We were watching favourite DVDs each night before bed. It would be done without electrical devices.

It was an outrage, they cried. We HAVE to check stuff. You just DON’T understand.

We compromised, and they survived. With sneaky peeks, as I visited the fridge. And we all enjoyed the movies, fully focused.

My quest to reduce phone use was hard enough during a week of sun and surf on holidays. What chance do we have at home?

Parents everywhere are fighting the same battle. Our kids are addicted, to devices that were invented to promote talk. But they’re conversing less. It’s all about internet data, in the palm of a hand.

We’re not much better. My phone never leaves me. You’re probably the same. The constant link to work. Up-to-the-second info from around the world on Twitter. Monitoring the exploits of friends on Facebook. Do as I say, not as I do..

In the holiday tavern, I saw a couple sitting at a table near the bar. Both in their fifties I reckon. Both with i-pads. Their heads were buried in them. They’d gone to the trouble of going out together. Yet they could have been in different suburbs.

It’s hard to see us screen-saving our kids, when most of us are just as bad. If our phones are getting smarter, then we must be getting dumber.

Back to The Teenager’s twitching episode. It came late in the day, during a game of cards. We’d finally come to an agreement, that any activity on the balcony would be phone-free. Keen to hear the end of my campaign, they had agreed.

It meant that as we made up our own poker rules, and certain family members cheated, we were talking. And laughing. Without disruption.

There will be those of you without kids, or with children long gone, who will be scratching heads. Yes, we could ban the devices. Banish them to a mobile wasteland.

Trust me when I tell you it’s more complicated than that. Their phones are such a part of how they exist. The social fabric is so very different from when we were young.

For better or worse, we need to help them stay connected, without shutting everyone else out. And to save the sanity of parents all over.

For our part, we’ve working on sticking with our holiday plan at home. More phone-free time. Device-free zones. Baby steps, but it’s a start. No more living life on hold.

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Mums, it’s an ugly look. The healthy solution to get kids out of beauty pageants.

August 2, 2011

The security guard was in a muck lather.

No-one was listening. The big crowd kept spilling into his designated pathway outside the fruit shop. They were blocking access to the cheap strawberries.

Keep moving, he’d bark. No stopping. This area MUST be kept clear. It would all be so different if they’d let him carry a gun.

The man with the plastic badge was on the shift from hell. Dance Concert day at our local shopping centre. Five hundred excited mums, dads and grandparents looking for a spot. Something akin to herding cats.

The Teenager and Daughter Two were in action. Lots of their friends too. And other mates cheering in the crowd.

This performance was an hour, tops. Very civilised for a Saturday. Done and dusted before Race One.

The dancers were great. All of them. Smiles lighting up the weekend. And parents proud as punch.

Girls (and boys) dressed up, but so very different from the madness that took place in Melbourne on the same day. The debut of Toddlers and Tiaras in Australia.

As we were dodging our stressed security guard to get an extra photo, parents with a different view on things were working on big hair and spray tans.

You must have heard about the show by now. We’ve watched it a few times. It’s painful. Car crash tv. Children made up to look like adults. Mostly by mothers who are still pining for a shot at the big time.

You’ve probably seen the stories this week. It would be funny if it wasn’t so alarming.

There’s no manual for parenting. We blunder onwards, doing our best. Mistakes are part of the journey. But rule number one, is to protect.

Instinct plays a huge part. You just know, deep down, that those children shouldn’t be on that ridiculous stage.

So here’s my advice. Forget the beauty contests. Want them performing? Head to the local dance school instead.

Yes, I appreciate the irony here. I couldn’t dance if you were shooting at me.

I realise the dance sport scene has had critics too. It can be bloody expensive. And I know some of the bigger enterprises can be pretty full on. But I can only go on what I see my girls involved in. And it’s all a positive influence.

There are hundreds of classes in suburbs everywhere. Most of them cater for all standards. Nothing fancy, the ones I’ve seen. Ours is based in a community hall.

The teachers are young and enthusiastic. Everyone is welcome. If you can muster some sort of shuffle, you’re in.

It’s about being part of a team. Solos are rare. Character building, when you get a bunch of people working on a common goal together.

They train a few times a week. Just like footy and softball and cricket. Making new buddies, outside of the classroom.

It’s healthy. One of the few hours in the day they’re not on a computer, or a phone, or a game.

In the ten acts at that little suburban shopping centre, there were kids of all shapes, sizes and cultures. At one with the music.

Most importantly, they were having fun. THEIR fun. Not ours. Doing what kids like to do. And no need to be the most beautiful to take part.

As a parent, there are few things better than watching your child doing something they really enjoy. Can the Toddlers and Tiaras mob honestly say that? I doubt it.

Here’s hoping sanity prevails, and the American concept doesn’t take hold here. Trust me, we don’t need anything else to make our kids grow up quicker.

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