Is there anything technology can’t track?

I’m not much of an app person. I almost never think to search through the tiny electronic store on my phone for solutions to life’s minor inconveniences. I’m not sure why I have such an aversion to the help, it’s not like my own processing is any good. I do have one app I like that keeps simple lists that I use at the grocery store. I can cross off an item with the touch of my finger as I drop it into my cart. More commonly, I cross off several at once next to the canned asparagus when I stop to check the reason I came down this aisle for the second time. I find it incredibly helpful on the occasions I remember to use it, which I’m proud to report are steadily increasing. I’d estimate I’m up to 60% of the time. I also add things to a calendar app pretty regularly. I listen to music on one. I text. I don’t use many more apps than those. When I decide to binge a few videos or scroll through images, I am most frequently advertised apps that promise to effectively schedule my life for me. Nary a moment will be wasted! Wasted on what exactly is never explained. The help is tempting, however, I am easily distracted and until I can pick up my phone without being derailed by the most recent notification, I’ll stick with ink and paper.

I am very judgmental about apps. I want to say the word with air quotes for some reason. “Apps.” The patriot in me is ashamed to admit that I am elated by the idea of a TikTok ban. I don’t use TikTok myself, but I certainly have struggles with similar social media time-suckers. I would definitely whine a little if Instagram suddenly disappeared. But it would be the same way my kids whine before they eat the tiny portion of broccoli necessary to have with dinner in order to qualify for dessert. They know it’s required because broccoli is good for them, not because I enjoy watching them gag down their greens. I don’t need to scroll instagram to nourish my mind. In fact, quite the opposite. I view the use of social media like a steady diet of sugar cereal and the prize inside the box is data-mining. There is no upside for me.

I do understand the objections to the ban. Each of the app’s (surely adult) users should be free to make the decision for themselves. Who does the government think it is, telling people how the ten minutes waiting to see their dentist should be spent? My phone, my choice! Believe me, I get it.

Over-reliance is the red flag for me. As I stood in line at the dispensary this week, I watched a young woman in front of me scroll through her reel suggestions as she waited a dozen seconds for her order to be retrieved by the budtender—not the reel videos themselves, the carousel of two second clips that act as the lure. I don’t know much about the science of brain activity and attention spans, but I think it’s safe to assume that filling every moment of your day with disparate content might not be good for you in the long term. Of course, I know all about those two second lure videos she was looking at because I’ve spent some time in that world myself. Curiosity overwhelms me.

Lately, I’ve been abusing social media to escape from my emotional circumstances. I scroll a fair amount. I’ve got a couple apps for that. If you asked about my screen time over the last few weeks, I’d be too embarrassed to give you the truth without adding some conservative spin. I use it to not feel anything of consequence. Oh, look! This lady has uploaded a video of different species of ducklings running across her hardwood floors! With sound! Has anything ever been so charming? I enjoy a surprise homecoming video or a celebrated pregnancy announcement. One of my guilty indulgences is a hair video. I f*cking love a good hair video. I enjoy the ones that walk you through a trim and style. I love seeing the subject smiling at themselves in the after shot, whipping their fresh mane for the camera. There’s nothing like the feeling of a fresh cut. At the moment the ones where they apply hair color are my favorite. I find the chemical processes and care of the follicle interesting. The hair is combed and foiled in intricate patterns around the scalp presumably to maximize the beauty of the overall face. I never realized the cosmetology field was so scientific. Is that what makes it an art form? The blend of science and beauty?

I’ve been tricked into watching a few longer hair videos that promise to amaze, but don’t include a reveal at the end. I think of these as a bait and switch, and I become absolutely livid if I am unexpectedly baited. “NO! I will never look on your page for part 2! How dare you waste my time in this manner! Jokes on you—I DON’T EVEN CARE ABOUT HAIR ANYWAY!” It’s like it does something to me primally. I feel so much shame. I think, they got you again, you moron. You sat and wasted your precious time on this video and here you still need to give them more. You’re so dumb, you don’t deserve the time you have. You’ll fall into their trap every time. As you might guess, I’m still working on my self-talk. Deep down I know it’s not my fault.

Recently, I’ve got into more of a stylist consultation funnel which isn’t as interesting to me. I think the algorithm believes me to be a rookie stylist. That’s partly true. I cut my entire family’s hair at their request when all my kids were little. I watched a lot of YouTube videos about haircutting basics, like how to use guides and angles. I must say, I do a damn fine job when I don’t overthink it. Avoiding that anxiety has become more of a challenge as they grow older. I know concerns about time and money have started to weigh on their small shoulders. I’m afraid they will hesitate to ask to see a stylist because they are afraid it will be too much of a burden on me. I am desperate to assure them, I will buy you a haircut from a person who isn’t me if that’s what you really want. Please let me know! My heart aches for you to be free of any burdens in this world, to feel the way you want to feel, and to have the right hair. I never want to hurt you with the wrong hair!… I don’t know, something must’ve happened to me in childhood, I guess. I get lost in my head, and I don’t always speak kindly to myself in there. I become convinced that I’ll mess up the cut. What I’m trying to say is big kid haircuts come with higher stakes, and I want them to have the freedom to choose for themselves.

I’m old enough to remember a world before apps. My first introduction to the concept of apps were the ones designed to impress us with their technological mimicry of our real life. We were fascinated by an ability to blow bubbles through the phone screen, or pour an imaginary beer using the gyroscopic technology. Even back then I thought, neat, but why? You can hold up a high-res digital lighter at a concert and the lead singer might notice you from the stage, but it doesn’t let you help your neighbor light a joint. What kind of lications are prioritized with an app like that?

Maybe it’s the phone history I’ve lived through that has made me into a slow adopter. I mean, my first cell phone was a Nokia brick just before I graduated high school. It’s hard to imagine how different the cellular landscape is for today’s high school junior. My own son is close to that age and he uses his phone every day, often to check schoolwork and grades. He texts us when practice is over and then presumably scrolls until I pull up in our van a few minutes later, just like all his friends. It’s part of their daily life. For me, the phone remained a novelty for years after I first got one. It sometimes still feels like one today.

The case I often make for myself as a reason to keep my phone handy is the possibility for pictures. I love photos and my camera app is well-used. A few nights ago my daughter and I were volunteering together at the elementary school. We passed out free pizza to the children attending the dance in the cafeteria. It’s a fun gig. I wanted so badly to grab a selfie of us together serving slices, but I decided to leave my phone tucked away in the interest of hygienic food service. You might be surprised how many different dance moves you can come up with while not touching anything with your hands.

We ran into a stroke of good luck (I wonder how that CEO is doing?) when there was a break in the line for the photo booth a local orthodontist donated for the night. My daughter and I swooped in for a quick picture that we were surprise to discover was actually three. The first image is cute, she’s squatting a little to fit inside the frame adjusted down for small children. I didn’t need to shrink at all. In the second image we are caught off-guard, and in the third we manage to strike a two angeled version of Charlie’s Angels. I’m still wearing my plastic gloves. Later that night the adorable set of photos was texted directly to the phone waiting in my purse pocket. I got a cute photo with my daughter without risking contamination, and it was made all the richer by the silly experience. Sometimes things work out in the end.

While we were at the dance, my daughter mentioned she had forgotten to bring her phone along, which I secretly consider a sign of good parenting. I frequently leave the house without my own phone and when I feel that sudden panicked pull to find it, I try not to express it out loud. I want my kids to see their electronic devices as tools, there are still many life experiences where that particular tool isn’t necessary. That’s not to say I haven’t gone too far. If I catch my nine-year-old sneaking mental junk food on YouTube, he dissolves into guilty tears over the decision he made to “melt his brain.” Yep, those are my words coming out of his mouth. Clearly, I have a middle ground to strike.

I think what’s missing from my failed attempt at an age-appropriate explanation of content quality evaluation is an emphasis on what his brain is capable of without the addition of anything from the internet. The insistent part of myself overwhelms him with fears of what technology could take from him, and I forget to remind him of what he already has. Discernment. There are so many alternate activities that don’t require his passive surrender. In order to clarify, our more recent screen time conversations have been discussions of content quality using streamers and channels I know he already watches. Together, we ranked them from most brain-melty to least brain-melty and then, most importantly, brain-helpy! I pointed out he also watches some good quality stuff that he was able to pick out on his own. We laughed and I empathized with how fun the brain-melty stuff can feel. I melt my own brain sometimes. I remind him why I care so much about his amazing brain and I assured him that our brains don’t really turn into goo, that’s just an expression Mommy uses because she doesn’t understand neuroscience.

Still every day after school he hurriedly asks permission to consume some media. After I wash my hands, can I play screens? I allow it because it’s exactly what I want to do for the first twenty minutes after I get home. Is that terrible? Maybe I shouldn’t allow screens at all, I don’t know. I try not to micromanage, but he’s consistently drawn to the most brain-melty stuff we allow. He’s still young. I’m sure he’ll grow out of it. Some nights I step in and declare last call for the video game guys. Switch to something that engages thought please. To his credit he doesn’t fight me on it. The best days are the ones where he bounces down the bus steps with an idea for something new to draw. I never feel guilty about encouraging creation.

A few months back when the weather was warmer, I walked out to the bus stop a few minutes early to wait for my youngest to come home. I mentally prepared myself for his inevitable screen time request. A few minutes later, I was joined by a neighborhood Dad. He stood with his back toward the hill the bus would descend while he read to me from the bus tracker app on his screen: the bus will be arriving in less than one minute. At the same time, facing the opposite way, I watched the large, bright yellow vehicle with it’s noisy gas-guzzling engine lumber to a stop in front of me. “I guess it’s here!” he said with a chuckle. Yeah, I guess it is.