Hello, my name is Marissa, and I am an iPhone addict.

 

I’ve known something was not right for awhile now.  I’ve tried putting away the laptop on the days my kids are home, but that didn’t seem to be enough.  Then recently, a friend shared this post from Hands Free Mama on Facebook.  Reading it was like getting hit in the gut.  It’s got me thinking about how truly enslaved I am to my electronic devices, especially my iPhone.

 

“Enslaved?  Really, Marissa?  That’s a little overboard.”

 

But think about it . . .

 

• Can you go out to lunch with a friend for an hour, put your phone in your purse on silent and not even think about checking it?  Or do you worry that your husband might need something or your kid might puke at preschool?

 

• Can you wait until you get ALL THE WAY home to check that text message, or do you grab your phone at the stoplight?  And of course, once you’ve read it, can you really keep that person waiting 20 minutes until you reply?

 

• Can you leave your phone in the car while you take your kids to the park?  Or do you need something to entertain you while you sit on a bench or push them on the swings?  (Of course, if you just got a text, they will have to wait for that push.  You can’t push and text.  I’ve tried.)

 

• How many times have you jumped up from reading a book to your kids because your phone summoned you with it’s little chime?

 

A week ago, my answers to these questions were embarrassing.  My eyes have been opened to my need for constant communication, my desire for interaction and entertainment, and the pressure I feel to be accessible to everyone at every moment.  And my kids are paying the price.

 

If you are my age or older, you remember a time when we all had those devices with the spiral cords hanging on our walls at home.  They didn’t have answering machines or call waiting or caller ID.  If you wanted to talk to someone, and they were at the grocery store or outside getting their mail or already talking to someone else, you had to call back later.

 

My mom never worried that the world might fall apart while she was at the grocery store.  She never had to make a decision about who was more important:  the person she was already talking to, or the person calling in on call-waiting.  When she took me to the park, she wasn’t checking Facebook or playing Words With Friends.  She didn’t have a contact list of hundreds of interesting people she could chat with while she drove me around town.

 

I’m planning a throw-back to 1982, y’all.  My kids deserve my full attention, and I don’t want to miss out on these years that they actually want to talk or play with me.  I refuse to let this little screen rule my life.

 

Stay tuned for my iPhone detox plan . . .

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