Picking the Apple: How We Are Parenting Technology

I have been thinking long and hard about a famous story.  The story goes like this:

There was once an apple that changed the world, but not for the better.  That apple gave humans access to the knowledge of good and evil, and it destroyed our most valued relationships, with God and with each other.

 No---wait.  That's not the story I want to tell.  It goes more like this:

There was once an Apple that changed the world, but not for the better.  That Apple gave humans access to the knowledge of good and evil, and it destroyed our most valued relationships, with God and with each other.

Pretend like this cool pic has iPhones, Mini's, and iPads,
not innocent little nanos and shuffles.  I happen to love the music playing options.

I know this post is starting out a bit radical.  Maybe I am becoming a radical, although I've always viewed myself as a fairly normal, mainstream kind of gal.  The thing is--I find myself trying to forge a new path through the technology wilderness in an era when technology is a silent and often unacknowledged danger.  I'm no published expert on the speaker circuit, just a mere foot soldier in the battle.  But for the public record, I'd like to report the truth as I see it happening from the front lines of modern parenting.

We do own Apple products, in fact my 40th birthday gift was an iPad.  I've found that my daughter (7th grade) could care less about gaming or goofing around on touch screen technology and dislikes even reading on the Kindle.  She does do computer programming and a little game coding on the laptop, but this is a "creative" tool for her.  In other words, she uses technology not for entertainment, but as one would use a brush and paints:  to make something new out of nothing.  I'm all for that kind of activity.

My son (5th grade), however, loves to do anything that involves computer gaming.  He used to be hooked on the Wii, and when we got the iPad, he started small with apps like Scribble and Pop Math, which seemed innocent enough.  But all addictions start small, don't they?   Ask any addict of anything at all how it started, and I'll wager it was with something simple and seemingly safe.

With my son, he initially found himself mesmerized by the bright flashing features, the cool sounds, the constant motion on the screen.  Then he was sucked into gaming even deeper by his natural inclination to be loyal, even loyal to a digital team. The push notifications asking him to come back to play or telling him his troops were ready for battle (Clash of Clans) were like an alcoholic smelling the beer from outside the bar.  Despite his inner desire to restrain himself, he was constantly lured in for more (Romans 7:19).

I thought it was just a boy's fun.  That is, until I got my Visa bill one day and there were many, many charges of $9.99, $50, $100, that came to almost $3,000, all charged to my iTunes account that month.  I thought for sure my account had been hacked.  I only have bought a few songs here and there through the years, never anything more than a dollar or so a month.  Looking back, I was such a sucker to let a naive little boy on something as powerful as touch technology linked to a credit card account. 

The source was Baseball Superstars, which I thought it was a simple sports app, but that was a completely wrong assumption.  Doing more research after the fact, I discovered it really targets adult gamers and addictive gambler types.  As he got more advanced in the game, he was being asked to buy his team new uniforms on Baseball Superstars, give them massages, help them with special practices, all of which were bought with "points" that he thought were earned during the game but in reality were REAL LIVE MONEY being charged to my card.  Ouch and double ouch.

The slithering snake of deception, the one that preys on the young and vulnerable, reached right through that iPhone and bit me hard.

We warned him about passwords and such, gave him punishments of various sorts, and restricted the technology in his life (and he has never owned his own touch technology, just to be clear), but again and again we would see him fall into the same patterns of an addict: thinking about gaming the first thing when he woke up, sneaking my phone, hiding in the bathroom, lying to me.  If you know him, you would likely agree that these characteristics are not at all reflective of his usual personality.

To save him from himself, he is now off technology completely.  What else could we logically do?  There cannot be "a little on the weekend" or "just on the car trip."   He cannot take a single sip or he will fall off the wagon again.  It's a hard line to take as a parent when this very technology surrounds him, resides in his home, and permeates the lives of his friends.

Why so radical, you say?

Because touch technology will rob him of everything good in his life if we don't stand firm.

It will rob him of laughing in the kitchen with me, fully engaged and present in the conversation.  It will rob him of good academics and quiet times alone when he can think and reflect.  It will dissolve the lasting richness of in-person friendships and the satisfying small moments of wrestling around with his brother and talking football strategy with his dad.  It will rob him of nothing less than joy.

Kyle Strobel put it this way:

I think one of the most difficult aspects of being an American Christian is trusting that Jesus is right and that our culture is selling us something that ultimately isn’t a valid way to be joyful — and is actually the very thing that destroys joy. 

I love him too much to let him eat the Apple, only to be consumed whole by it in return.  Shockingly, apparently Steve Jobs agrees with me.  Did you know he didn't allow his own children to use the very iPad he created?  It's true--read it here.

And what of my son's friends and my daughter's friends, all of whom own touch technology?  That is for their parents to decide, but for now I am firm that my children will not go on overnights with children who have these products to use freely.  I will not have my son in a friend's basement, essentially unsupervised, with his buddy's iPad Mini where they will have access to things like pornography at a single tap.  While I absolutely cannot see my son initiating this kind of behavior, wouldn't it be easy for the other kids present to pull up?  I try to be very in touch with him, but how in the world can I possibly know and trust the private thought lives of his (also immature and vulnerable) friends?

Moreover, I find that I am in the thin sliver of minority when it comes to parenting technology and social media.  I ask other parents out of curiosity: "Why does such-and-such own this?  What are you thoughts on him/her having it?"  Or "Is this username trying to friend me on Instagram your son/daughter?"  One reply I hear frequently: "Well, they begged me to get them an account, so it's okay that they are under the age allowed on Instagram." Or I also am told, "Johnny bought it with his own allowance that he saved for a whole year, so how could I say no?"  Which leads me to my next question, one that I hardly ever ask aloud but put before myself on a regular basis: "Who is in God-given control of this relationship?  You or your child?"

I may sound alarmist, but my mama instinct is sounding off that there is untold danger of the self-inflicted kind ahead for my children's generation.  Although The Screwtape Letters was published in 1942, C.S. Lewis sounds downright contemporary in writing:

It does not matter how small the sins are provided that their cumulative effect is to edge the man away from the Light and out into the Nothing.  Murder is no better than cards if cards can do the trick.  Indeed the safest road to Hell is the gradual one--the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts.

Or, if I may be so bold as to add on to Master Lewis:

Indeed the safest road to Hell is the gradual one--the gentle glowing screen, the easy to use apps, the smooth digital world without sudden jolts, without thinking minds, without limits on knowledge or images, without the Holy Spirit, without love....

So, how about you, fellow parents?  How do you manage this complicated issue in your home?

Food for thought: 
how would you describe someone who boldly holds out an Apple to us that he won't 
even allow in his own children's hands within his own home?

Staying off the Mickey Mouse Golf Cart of Shame

Big Mama's gonna run another race.  A Disney half-marathon to be exact.  In approximately two months.  


Sure could use some of that pixie dust.

And as I hit the pavement this cold morning, the piercing air coupled with that horrible burning feeling in my calves led to this profound thought:  if I don't get some training under my belt, I am going to (1) literally die on the pavement of Main Street USA or (2) watch my pride die as my sorry self gets picked up on the Mickey Mouse Golf Cart of Shame.

Nice visual, I know.  I'm a visual, living-in-color type of person.  And I savor a good analogy, so let's follow the "race" one for a few moments, because the whole time I was running this morning, I was thinking about the race of parenting, one that we are all thrown into together with that first child's first breath.  We are a corporate body, fit or unfit, exhausted or bright-eyed, focused or scatterbrained, all hoping to cross the finish line with our sanity intact and our kids alive and in one piece.

We are all in this together, right?

Maybe not.  Sometimes, when I look around, it seems like a chaotic and miscellaneous effort, like we aren't even running in the same direction or towards the same finish line with other parents.   I have had to clasp my husband's hand hard in the hectic crowd and self-generate a kind of environment for my kids that is a tough row to hoe: one that to a certain extent goes against the cultural mainstream.  We try to have our children off of technology as much as possible and plugged into things like good books, year-round math, outside play, and lively conversations with each other across the dining room table as a substitute for hours of TV, mind-numbing apps, continual texting of friends, and a full slate of afterschool activities.  It is not a flawless effort, but we do have our share of good, old-fashioned times to show for it:  they've sledded down the driveway (flat dolly + old fashioned sled), experimented in the kitchen, ziplined in the back yard, crafted till their fingers bled (durn chicken wire for paper mache!), not to mention played innumerable games of Four Square, Keep Away, Hide-and-Seek Tag, and its very evil twin, Dark Tag (don't ask--it involves the spooky recesses of my closet).

From 8-3, we've fought to send them to a school where they will be intellectually engaged by a rigorous curriculum that challenges them to think and articulate those thoughts and dig deep into knowledge.  This is also not an extremely popular notion, because it takes a huge amount of commitment and effort to do it well.  When you start saying things like intellectual inquiry, critical evaluation, rhetorical persuasion, let's be honest--most parents think you are a touch crazy, or you are showing off, or both.  And they drop you as a running partner and you find yourself in a paltry group headed uphill on a barren stretch of the race course, wondering where the heck everyone has gone.

Which leads me to this question: why run the race with such intensity?  Why even pursue a culture of excellence on a course so challenging that it makes your calves sting and your breath draw short?  Yep, Mr. Temptation, I hear you way back there, hollering "Can't you just run the race like the rest of us, Roberts People?  Do you have to push so hard and try to eeeeeek something out of every moment?  Can't you lay off and join me in watching your favorite Bravo TV shows and let your kids sail through easy school and allow them plug into their apps with the rest of their friends so they will leave all us grownups alone?"

I don't apologize for the intensity.  I am an inherently lazy person (really, I am), but God has set the purpose of raising five children before me and it's not a job for any slacker.  There is something inside me that wells up and shouts in reply: THIS MATTERS.  We have laid this privilege of parenting before the Lord and He has called us to something requiring intensity-- a state of living that commands both focus and commitment.

It's hard to accept, but I am learning that as parents, we are often running towards different goals. My goal is simply this: that my children fulfill God's purpose for their lives.  That as much as it is possible, their gifts, personalities, minds, and hearts are 100% engaged in doing His will.  Yes, I admit it:  I don't care if they are "happy".  Can I say this without being arrested by DCF?  It's true--happiness is not my hope for them because I know it is a bottomless cup that will never be filled.  Only in living within God's will can they find purpose and gain something greater: profound and lasting joy.  As Olympic runner Eric Liddell said, "I believe God made me for a purpose, and he also made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure."

And if they are going to run the race of life with success (and stay off the proverbial Mickey Mouse Golf Cart of Shame), it is most imperative that they be given some training in advance, or they will be just like I was today, huffing and puffing and envisioning myself as completely unable to cross the finish line without roadside assistance.  So all these efforts to expose them to the history of the world, where we stand in it, how God is working through all of it, how to find truth and express truth with conviction---this is all part of a training of their minds, a pat-pat-pat-pat of their young feet on an intellectual road paved by the thinkers and scholars that came before them. 

As a parent, I strive for them to achieve a high level of mental fitness so they can go out and engage in more difficult and important questions with greater ease:  "Why do you believe in this religious stuff?" or "Why is this cancer cell mutating and what can be done scientifically to stop it?"

There is one person who never shied away from intellectual engagement, and that was Jesus Christ.  He sat in and debated with the greatest religious scholars even at a young age; he didn't hesitate to present radical ideas to the masses and used penetrating questions and parables to challenge and stir up great debate amongst his closest followers.   He modeled for us a fearlessness in engaging in tough topics and in clearly articulating answers so his followers would be prepared for that time when he would no longer be with them.

He knew his time was short; for us as parents, there is no way to know when our own finish line is going to rush up to meet us.

Actually, remembering that dreaded race calendar, I suspect my days might be numbered.

My Reply to Ms. Hall

Today started off sort of strange. In the pseudo-world of Facebook, I'm seeing well over a dozen repostings of this blog by well-meaning mom Kim Hall on my news feed from friends all over the country.  To summarize, Ms. Hall is annoyed by a girl posting a provocative photo that her teenage sons can see on their social media.  She is both encouraging clean posts by teenagers and drawing a line in the sand for what her family will permit their sons to see.

I have a radical suggestion for her that may not go over well, even with my closest friends: get your kids off social media, period.

Trying to sneak my iPhone, are ya?

I know, it's crazy.

This is a modern world.  Am I just not "with it?"

Listen, I see lots of positive uses for social media.  But is it a realm that I want my two oldest tween children engaged in?  Is it thoroughly uplifting, wholesome, positive, and honorable?  Is there any real way to monitor what's being posted and said and videoed and shared?  No, no, and no.

And here's the thing: even though I feel they are on the mature side for their age, there are many times that my older kids act immature.  They're KIDS.  And although I haven't parented full-on teens, from what I have seen, sometimes the maturity issue slides downhill with the ramping up of hormones.  Yes, they have imperfect judgment skills and their friends also have imperfect judgment skills.  Am I really going to put them in a "digital room" where they can all expose each other to their evolving and whimsical thoughts, words, and actions?  

It's sort of like giving knives to a room full of kindergarteners.  They will seize the chance to have access to something novel and adult-like and, by golly, they will use it.  At first it might be smooth sailing and everyone following Mom's instructions, but eventually, with time, somebody will get hurt. It evolves into something that I, as the parent, never intended for it to be--a time consuming distraction that gives others influence and access to my child.

Even by policing my kids, I know I can't go back and change the damage when it occurs.  As my dad said many a time when I was learning to drive: "It's not you I'm worried about. It's the other guy."

A real live book!

When I look at my kids' lives, they are missing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING by not being on social media.  Their days are brimming from start to finish with life-building, spirit-affirming endeavors.  They are focused on schoolwork, running, swimming, chores, teams, piano, afterschool clubs, homework, and family time until they flop in their beds tired and satisfied after a full day.  

In an age of instant communication (which takes little to no skill), their lack of access to texting and social media (although they have plenty of access to technology as needed--cue the family newsletter that is desktop published each week by my eldest) is about us helping them engage others in an authentic manner and keeping them focused on what's important--knowing God, learning to be a servant-leader, and developing trusting in-person relationships with their friends.

They have complete freedom from the distraction of posts, photos, status updates, their number of likes, must-see videos, and push notifications.

Freedom to just be kids.

This seems like common sense to me.  Not to you?  It's okay--I know I'm in the minority here. I have many friends who have supplied their kids with iphones, itouches, Instagram accounts, Facebook pages, Snapchat (!), and more.  I know they are well-meaning parents trying their best, just like me.

But for now, this mama is going to keep her kids as focused as possible on the things that we deem worthy of their time--those treasured, finite years of childhood--and I'm unafraid to say that social media is out.