What would you do if you forgot your phone at home? Would you go back and get it?
Here’s what I did when it happened to me:
It all started when I was driving my daughter to school. Everything was going well that morning. We were going to be on time for school, and after I dropped her off, I’d continue in the same direction to attend the first of three appointments.
Then an image popped into my head—my cell phone sitting on the kitchen counter. That’s right. I’d forgotten it.
I said to my daughter, “Oh, I just remembered—I forgot my phone on the kitchen counter!”
She looked at me expectantly, perhaps waiting for me to do what I’d done before: find the nearest street to turn around, rush home, grab my phone, then drive anxiously, thinking “Will we get to school on time?” She’s experienced it before: me getting stressed, complaining about the traffic, the slow drivers.
Don’t feel like reading? Listen to this Episode 24 – The Freedom of Leaving My Phone At Home on Raising the Next Gen podcast (<7 min)
Instead, I felt like I wanted to take a risk – the risk of not retrieving my phone and being disconnected for several hours since I’d be out for my appointments until mid-afternoon. And I felt instantly relieved. My daughter held her phone out so I could record a voice note to my husband to let him know I didn’t have my phone and wouldn’t be home until my appointments were completed, and then I proceeded to drive my daughter to school.
I’m not going to lie, after I did that, I questioned myself while trying to drive calmly. A voice piped up in my head: Is it really ok to not have my phone?
What if I’m involved in an accident?
What if the kids need to reach me?
What if there’s a medical emergency with my parents?
How will I know the “best route” if I don’t use Waze? What if I get lost?
Yeah, I really went there. Right to the catastrophic, worst-case scenarios.
I had to remind myself that I grew up in an era without devices in our pockets and bags 24/7, and it was perfectly ok! It’s actually absurd that I had to refute these thoughts that felt like blaring alarms in my head.
I reminded myself that my dad drove us to school without a phone, that we rode public transit to home and to the mall without a phone, that if on the small chance we got into an accident, we exchanged information with pen and paper, that if the school needed to get in touch, they’d call our house, parents’ workplace or emergency contact, that if we got lost, we asked for directions.
After talking myself down from these worst-case scenarios, I was happy to have taken this small risk. I felt lighter, more free. I wasn’t chained to my phone.
I went to my appointments, and I used the time between appointments differently. That white space, or downtime, was actually used to rest and rejuvenate. I almost always carry a notebook and a book with me; but I’ll be honest, oftentimes when I have my phone, I reach for it first, even though I have the intention to write or read. The distraction and attraction of just checking one message and going down a rabbit hole is real.
But I today I didn’t have that distraction. So I took a walk between my appointments. I went to a coffee shop and enjoyed my tea, people-watched, read my book, and wrote most of this podcast episode. I also had a great conversation with the receptionist at the dentist’s office.
And nothing bad happened. I got home, everybody was safe, and I felt a sense of calm.
I didn’t have an explicit conversation with my daughter about it, but I think she got the message: that mommy can survive without her phone, and that means she can too. By asking her to get in touch with her dad, it also showed her that it’s ok to ask for help. On the flip side, if I’d panicked about leaving my phone at home, I’d be conveying that it’s stressful to be without your phone. If I’d gone back to get the phone, it would show her that I can’t live without my phone, that it’s a priority. Furthermore, being rushed and possibly being late shows her that life is busy, chaotic, and rushed; that time is scarce.
This experience gave me a chance to notice my relationship with my device, and that there is an alternative choice to the default of having my phone with me all the time. It also gave me the chance to model healthy boundaries around screen time for my daughter. We often talk about how to get our kids off screens, but what are we doing on our screens, and what does that show our kids?
So that’s what I’ll leave you with: an invitation to get curious about your relationship with your phone. When was the last time you intentionally or unintentionally left your phone at home when you went out? How did that make you feel? And do your actions with your phone match the boundaries you’re trying to set with your kids?
If you were to make one small tweak to your phone usage this week to model healthier tech habits, what would it be?
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