Turning Off and Tuning In

I sat in a pizza place one Sunday evening, waiting for my order to be ready. On the other side of the restaurant, I spotted a dad and his young son. The boy couldn’t have been more than two or three years-old. I assume they were waiting for their dinner as well. The little boy was cute and curious. He didn't appear to be doing anything you might consider out of control. Yet all I heard was the dad correcting him, telling him to sit properly, to be quiet. To each his own, I thought. He wants to be stern with his kid, that's his choice. But every time this dad spoke to his son, he had to tear his eyes away from his iPhone. When he was finished parenting, he would quickly glance back down.

A few days before that, I was standing in line at CVS, waiting to pay. I saw another dad engrossed in his iPhone as his two children – a boy and a girl - stood about five feet away from him eating a pack of M&M’s. We've all been there. Throw a snack at them to keep them quiet. But I heard the little girl, who was maybe four, call her dad’s name. Her attempt to get his attention fell on deaf ears. Whatever had filled his inbox was much more important.

I don’t like to judge other parents. I'd rather give everyone the benefit of the doubt. What works for you might not necessarily work for me. But in all honestly, it bothered me so much because that used to be me. I was that guy. These dads - and me before them - are just a few in a sea of distracted parents who are missing opportunities to engage and enlighten their children. Knowing I was that guy, watching other parents do it is heartbreaking and frustrating.

They're all off

About a month ago, My Director and I talked about going hands-free around Peanut. Especially during those two precious hours we have with her every night during the week. Turn off our phones. No laptop or iPad. Shortly after we talked about it, almost serendipitously, we found the blog of Hands Free Mama. She's started a movement, urging parents to tune out the technology and tune in to their children. We were on board after reading this post, where she lists the ways you can miss a childhood. The one that really hit home for me: checking your blackberry at a red light while your child sits in the backseat watching you.

What going hands free has done, more important than actually talking to Peanut, is force us to listen to her. When we're done listening, we respond. We have a conversation. That email, that game of Angry Birds, that tweet can wait. As hard as it has been for me to admit, the world can wait for my witty retort to someone's status update. It’s so trivial compared to what Peanut is saying, asking, wondering.

Technology is not worth interrupting my time with Peanut. She deserves more than two hours. But that’s all she gets right now; so she's going to get my undivided attention. If you include commuting and wireless communication, work gets me for at least twelve hours a day. That’s plenty. Everything can wait until Peanut is tucked away in bed.

I must admit, it's not easy. But at the same time, it's wonderfully liberating. Eye-opening, even. And Peanut notices. She's happy. Content. She is getting what she deserves: all of us.

I'd be lying if I didn't admit there are slip-ups. I’m just sharing what I consider a revelation. An awakening from a tech junkie who can very well become consumed with Facebook, Twitter, email, and blogging. But not at the expense of my daughter. Not at the expense of what she considers important. Not anymore. What she wants to do, and talk about, is what matters most. Even if she's vegging out on the couch watching Doc McStuffins after school, I am right there with her. Singing, commenting, engaging. The laptop safely tucked away, no longer on my lap.

One day Peanut will look back at her childhood. She’ll remember the big things, of course. And she’ll remember some little things as well. I just want to make sure she remembers her dad was watching her and not consumed by the glow of a little screen.

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Judge For Yourself

"Whoever undertakes to set himself up as a judge of truth and knowledge is shipwrecked by the laughter of the gods." -Albert Einstein

One of the many perks of being a parent is the freedom to judge other parents. Few things are more annoying to me as a parent than when a person who doesn't have children talks about what parents are doing wrong.

I admit that I too did this before I became a father... definitely to my sisters and possibly to a cousin or friend. My wife and I would occasionally say things like, "we're not going to do that when we're parents.

I get it, childless people... you think you have all the answers. But you don't. Maybe you think you're smarter because you get more sleep than we parents get. But you're not.

I dare you to keep your patience in the pizzeria when you're running on fumes after a stressful and exhausting day of work and the little person to whom you devote your life, love and sanity refuses to listen to a word you say because he wanted a bag of potato chips and you had the nerve to say no and now he's throwing a fit on the filthy restaurant floor.

Do you think you can do that? I've seen it done. It's impressive. But we still slip... we still lose it sometimes. Parenting is stressful.

And when you finally do become parents... and you're truly ready to judge... there's a big rule.

The rule is you don't do it to someone's face. This isn't American Idol. We're not performing for you and looking for immediate feedback. We're parenting at the Improv. But it's not just for a night. It's every minute of every day for the rest of your life. You never know what's going to come out of your child's mouth. But once they've said it you need to respond. And you need to respond well... and calmly.

On Monday I picked up my daughter at daycare. They were having a book fair. Translation: entrapping parents into shelling out $10-$20 because all we want to do is collect our child and his/her things quickly and without drama.

I was looking forward to this because I had scouted out some of the books on the Friday before. There were a couple I wanted to push on my daughter. One by Al Yankovic, of all people, titled "When I Grow Up." (We didn't end up getting this one).

After I found her on the playground, we went inside to get some books. In my mind I had a budget of $20... I figured three books. I never told her that number, however. She had said on Friday that she wanted a princess book she had spotted. Gag. I mean... fine.

As we entered the building, she immediately spotted another book instead- a non-princess one. It was actually a book that teaches writing and how to tell time. So I said absolutely.

Then she asked, "Daddy may I have three books?" She had her eye on a Barbie book as well as the princess one.

Did she read my mind? Did she know my plan? I didn't have time to ponder these existential questions because immediately I spotted a mom who was looking at books herself. I caught her mouthing, under her breath, "May I have three books?" Emphasis on the three... not on the may.

I immediately said "yes" since that was my plan all along. And as I caught that mom, pouting her lips and shrugging her shoulders judgementally at my perceived inability not to spoil my child I said, "at least it's not a candy fair." Because I can't let you get away with that crap.

Are you really going to judge me to my face like that?

Listen, I'm a blogger. Obviously. I put myself out there to be judged. I get it. But I'm also judging myself in the process. And I really try not to judge other parents because I really am no authority because this is the first time I am raising a four year-old girl. You may fall into a rhythm, but everything is always new.

So don't judge me to my face. If you must, go home and do it in private. Or feel free to post a comment below.

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