Screen Time

We all have scraps of melodies that stir up emotions in us. The opening phrase from Chopin’s Funeral March (pray for the dead and the dead will pray for you) gives us the shivers. A descending C scale with its dotted eighth and companion sixteenth note reminds us of the joy of Christmas. Sing a bar of “You are my sunshine” and we smile with memories of love given and received.

A tune frequently emanating from my cellphone begins with an arpeggio (me-so-do-me resolving to fa-la), sending me scurrying for the volume control because it’s so annoying (I wonder if someone really gets paid to write and perform that music?). It’s the unrelenting melody accompanying a game called Word Collect. Its daily challenges reel me in like a wriggling fish on a hook, as addictive as the Law and Order marathon siren call. I’ve managed to avoid “Candy Crush,” “Angry Birds,” and “Minecraft,” but since the lovely Madelyn Simone downloaded this supposedly mind-stretching word game to my phone, I’ve visited quite a bit, both with and without her help, even getting irritated if she buys a hint with my precious, hard-won coins. What is happening to me??

What is happening is just one offshoot of “screen time,” the number of hours during the day (and often night) spent in front of screens – computer, phone and television, not window screens. As a free-lance writer and editor, I spend many hours a day in front of the computer screen, even trading my laptop screen for the ease of a large monitor for my aging eyes. But an audit of my screen time would also reveal a few rounds of Word Collect, numerous checks of Facebook, and regular visits to e-mail newsletters and the morning paper - the Times, the Washington Post, the Boston Globe, and the TG. Even though we get the Repository delivered, I check out their site too, because it’s right at my fingertips.

Madelyn and her soon-to-be three-year-old sister, the delightful and determined Elizabeth Holiday, love their screen time too. Within moments of their arrival at our house, their hands are in my purse, searching for my phone. After a joyous greeting for Nana, Lizzie asks for “puter,” wanting Troll Holiday or some bizarre video of Elsa and Anna making playdough shapes. And yes, I give in, especially if it’s time to prepare dinner – the computer screen is a lifesaver. 

But my goal for the summer is to limit our screen time when we’re together, about three days a week. I want the girls to be out and about, running through the spray of the splash pad, searching for turtles, frogs, and polliwogs at a nearby pond, and riding bikes through the neighborhood. I want them to choose books from the library shelves, conquer the climbing walls at area playgrounds, and swing to their heart’s content. 

My plan is to get out of the house as much as we can, to sing along with favorite CDs in the car, and to play with playdough ourselves, rather than watch Elsa and Anna have all the fun. We’re making a list of inexpensive or free activities, scoping out all the local playgrounds, and perfecting the art of garage-sailing with a dollar or two in our pockets. 

When we don’t follow the “do as I say, not as I do” school of thought, our desire to shape a small child’s behavior can be as costly to us as it is to them. Risking a quick check of e-mail or responding surreptitiously to a text message, I feel guilty breaking my own rule, and seldom can get away with checking my phone without being discovered.

So here’s my bottom line: I’m a realist, not a purist. We’ll unplug as much as we can, but I’m also ready for rainy days and screen-driven girls of all ages. Fortunately, ToysRUs is going out of business, and they marked down their kid’s tablets by 60%. The $50 I spent to get the girls their own devices may be the best money I spend this summer, saving my “puter,” my phone, and my sanity. Now, to find the headphones . . .