The other day Doron had an owie on his toe. It was tiny, but toddler worthy of a bandaid. You know, a toddler can convince you to put a bandaid on a scar...
I scooped my little boy up, wrapped him in my arms, consoled him with all the words of affirmation he was looking for, settled him into the bathroom with a hug, applied neosporin, and lovingly wrapped that bandaid around his toe. I figured the bandaid would stay on for about 2 minutes but the love he felt from me caring would last all day.
As I did this, I felt like a really good mom. I thought, this is how I want to be remembered by my kids. And I thought about all the great memories I have of my mom. How she would sit in the kitchen and eat grapes and listen to Dr. Dobson every day at 11:30am. And how on her days off she would fold laundry and bake cookies and meet us at the door with a smile and a hug. In the summer she would sit on the porch swing and watch us play while drinking iced tea in our plastic blue cups. She would sit at the piano and play hymns and sing and tell us that she really wasn't that good at playing piano - but she was always better than me.
And that's how I want my kids to remember me. To have a bank in their mind full of great memories of a mom that loved them and love to be with them. My mom never had a phone in her hand, because ours was still attached to the wall and other than talking, you couldn't do anything cool with it. Even now my mom really only uses her phone to talk to people, sometimes text. We always knew that when mom was talking to us, she was really talking to us. There was no wondering if she was preoccupied with another conversation on the side. She wasn't always looking at her phone. When she helped us with homework she helped us with homework. When she stayed up until midnight waiting for us to be home by curfew and then chatted for another hour afterwards - she was really present, tired but present.
I want to be present for my kids.
Contrast my vision of awesomeness with a little reality check. Yesterday morning my adorably grown up seven year old cooked scrambled eggs and pancakes for everyone once again (frozen pancakes, toaster oven reheated). She said "I'm the mom!" I laughed and questioned "Oh, what am I then?" her reply stung, but you can't get hurt by childhood honesty - she replied "You're the kid that's always on your phone."
And is it true? kind of. Am I doing something important on my phone? maybe. Am I conversing with a friend? probably. Do my children know that they are still the most important thing in my life? I don't think so. Not when my phone is always around. Not when I don't look at them while they are talking to me. Not when they don't know what I'm doing on my phone, but it must be important since I'm always looking at it.
Hmmmm, do I need to throw my phone away? No. But when I sit down and have a big long talk with my girls about active listening, I have to ask myself 'Am I actively listening to others? Or have my children gained their poor listening and poor communication skills from a lifetime of watching me?'
Food for thought tonight. It is pretty funny how a year and a half ago, before I got my first smart phone, this never would have even been an issue. My phone had no value then other than talking and reading a text here and there.
Now, I have to learn how to break all of the bad habits - and protect my family.
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