Dopamine and parenting

I’m getting settled into a new pace of our days. Every morning we begrudgingly leave our beds. I’m convinced that every single one of our children have inherited me and Jordan‘s night owl tendencies, and no one in this house does well in the morning time. Jordan and Cillian get ready to leave while I make everyone breakfast. Kieran is usually laying happily in our room as Lachlan dashes around the house, born to run.

Kieran seems to like the quiet of the morning, content to just stare around the room. As Jordan and Cillian leave I’m usually fixing myself a coffee and then I go back to Kieran and change his diaper. It’s one of my favorite times of the day. This moment of quite connection between the two of us as he smiles and coos at me.

His face always lights up with a spectacular smile when he sees me walk into the room. I’ve never met a child as content as he is. My older boys would howl when I left a room, like they were being abandoned in the night. Kieran always seems to have the steady confidence, this knowing that I’m coming back to him.

And as I sit there each morning it feels like we connect in a way that is lost in the frenetic energy of the rest of the day. Just the two of us smiling at each other, sometimes with just our eyes. Speaking without words our love for one another.

It’s made me think about my presence, or lack thereof, the rest of the day. I’ve spent more time than not with my face in my phone. My technology addiction began with the inception of Instagram. I was an early adopter. Gaining a very modest following from a few photos of my cats featured on Instagrams main account in 2013. From there I was hooked, and as the years have gone on my addiction has spiraled. I’ve tried to rein it in in several times and in multiple ways and have always descended back into the endless scroll, the dopamine hit of likes and the feeling of connection with those like me scattered around the world. The connection is the only thing I don’t regret. The time however, I am desperate to reclaim.

I have no desire to quit social media entirely. My interactions on Instagram, pre-algorithm, felt healthy and inspiring. I learned about knitting, honed my photography skills and it inspired me to dabble in writing. In short, it helped me discover new things about myself and shaped who I am today. But when the endless scroll - plus stories and reels - were introduced, I was pulled under the depths. What initially felt like reading mini blog posts with a definite end turned into a never ending desire to consume endless content and my habits of creating for the sake of creating were swept into the brutal undertow of monetization and seeking external gratification.

I came across an ad for an app the other day. It was witty and spoke to how I was wasting my days away so succinctly that I downloaded it on the spot and so far it has been the most helpful thing I’ve done to rein in my time spent on my phone. I’m just four days I’ve cut my screen time in half.

Essentially it blocks my trouble apps (Instagram etc.) and makes me make a goal (3 opens a day with a strict time limit and then it blocks the app again) and prompts me with reminders about my goals before actually unlocking the app. Can I tell you how shocked I was at how many times I unconsciously attempted to open it in moments of boredom to just scroll? The Lock Screen hit me every time like a huge red flag 🚩 What. Are. You. Doing!

It also has a banner that pops up every hour you are on your phone to notify you another hour of your time (life) is gone. I can tell you there’s days I look at my screen time and realize I had no idea I spent that much time scrolling. Not a clue, so that has been a helpful reminder to set it down. It’s been helpful and when the free trial is over I fully expect I’ll be purchasing a year subscription. I’ve proven to myself I don’t have the self control to break my phone addiction on my own.

Ozempic is needed because of how we raise children

I read this amazing article above recently and it laid out perfectly how I’ve felt about screens when it comes to my children. I feel like I’ve reached an inflection point in parenting. I unplugged the tv the other day. It came on the heels of realizing my extremely hyperactive four year old was getting more and more out of control and the screens seem to be the problem.

How does one manage screen time for a wild child? As I was pondering that question I realized his behavior is holding up a mirror to my own. How can I expect him to happily play sans screen when I spend my entire day staring down at my phone? This revelation gave me pause and I extrapolated the question, how can I expect my child to rein in his screen addictions if I’m not role modeling positive behaviors for him?

I’m only on my fourth day of lower screen time. I’ve done this before, the honeymoon phase passes and I find myself spiraling again. I’m hopeful the physical barrier of an app will serve as a guardrail to my own destructive behavior. Because, as innocuous as screen time seems in a world filled with screens, I want the images that flash before my eyes when my days are numbered here on this cool green earth to be the secret smiles shared between me and my children in the quiet contented moments of our days together. Not the cold glare of the endless scroll. And if my daily screen timer was any indication, I was heading down the path of the latter.

If you take anything from reading this confessional of sorts I hope it’s this.

Look at your children today and examine the things you see with clear eyes. More often than not, the things we feel need addressing and examining are reflections of ourselves, not them. We are their first teacher and we have endless opportunities to steer them in the direction they need. But none of that will happen without holding the mirror up to yourself and examining the reflection held within. It is uncomfortable to be sure, but what better way to teach your child to go forth in the world than to heal yourself first and to show them it’s possible? And at the very least, show them what it’s like to try.