This summer I had a wake-up call in my own living room.
The TV had become my friend. As a working mom, there were moments when I needed something to keep the kids occupied while I got things done. While it was happening I didn’t know it, but in retrospect, I leaned on it a little too much.
When things calmed down a little with work, I relied less on the screen as support and the result was telling. I could literally see in their body language and in their demeanor that they were jonesing hard for more screen time. The meltdowns, the fighting, the repeated “I’m bored” comments were all bigger and more frequent than usual.
It was as if I’d taken away their lifeline.
But in reality, screen time was taking away far more than it was offering them. When there’s too much screen time, here’s what happens:
- Creativity drops and toys sit untouched because the TV was more stimulating.
- Behavior spikes to such intensity that warnings can’t even ward off the end of the world reaction.
- Connection fades, instead of talking and playing, my kids were disconnected with themselves, one another and me. And here’s the hardest truth, them spending so much time with screens led to my disconnection too!
Seeing all this, I kind of wanted to take a baseball bat to the TV. But that would have been silly. The real problem wasn’t the screen. It was me using it as a substitute for being present.
Screens Aren’t the Enemy
On road trips, the Switch or iPad keeps the peace. On scorching summer days, a movie break gives us all a reset. Sometimes we even sit down and play together. Those moments can be fun and bonding.
But too much screen time teaches my children something dangerous: how to be in relationship with something counterfeit.
The lights, sounds, and endless entertainment grip them. But it’s not real relationship. It doesn’t teach them how to struggle, create, or engage with the real world. Or with me.
What Children Really Need
What I’ve learned is that my children don’t actually need me to entertain them.
They need me to attune: to pay attention, to listen, to notice their cues.
They need me to connect: to talk about their questions, their feelings, even their boredom.
They need my presence: to tune in to their lives, not just tune out with a show.
It’s hard. Honestly, it’s really hard. I’m juggling being a wife, mom, mentor, training director. And juggling it sometimes at the same time. At the end of the day, giving my children my full attention all the time feels overwhelming.
But when I think about it as building authentic connection, something in me shifts. It stops feeling like an impossible burden and starts feeling like an invitation—to be present, to love my children, to show up for them, and to be a source of real connection. I may not succeed 100% of the time, but I’m inspired to try. And that’s a whole lot better than feeling defeated before I even begin.
Screens aren’t going away. And I’ll never be a perfect parent. But I can keep choosing presence, imperfect, messy, forgiving presence.
Because what my kids need most isn’t another show. It’s me.