I didn’t know Jo well when she signed up for my Screentime Serenity class. We would wave at each other at school events, but never anything more. We would see each other a handful of times throughout the year, and everytime, you would think, “Wow, she seems pretty cool.” To say we bonded through the class over our challenges of raising brooding and dark teen boys is an understatement. You find friends when you share your struggles in parenting… because parenting is a struggle that only friends can help you through. Jo is also an artist. Her expression comes from words fuelled by feeling. Her energy is raw and real. And I’m so proud to have her be a guest blogger here as testimony to the work of Infinite Screentime. Learn more about Jo and all her creative endeavours at JoJoFierce, and OH YEAH! She is making a movie… And it’s truly a heartwarming story!
— Arcadia Kim, Founder of Infinite Screentime
I was meandering down the supermarket aisle. My soon-to-be three-year-old darted in and out, dumping stuff into the cart. I was too exhausted to chase after him. Suddenly, he ran up behind me, very excited.“Mommy, can I get this please, please, please?”
I turned around, ready to say no, expecting another box of sugary cereal or cookies. Instead, he held a small bouquet taken from the flower section.
“It’s for you, Mommy. Can I, can I? It would make me sooo happy.”
My heart burst. The moment instantly became a memory to treasure to my grave.
Sure enough, ten years later, I wring out all the goodness I can from that moment. That sweet, thoughtful little boy has gone. I now have a TEEN. My son’s entered the tunnel of teenhood and I’m groping behind in the dark.
*****
On the morning of his 12th birthday, I woke up to an initial sense of calm. He didn’t want the usual party, just a small dinner with only our family. For the first time in over a decade, I wasn’t running around like a headless chicken. I didn’t need to pick up the cake and balloon bouquets. No more last-minute store runs for food or more party favors. No more cutting out cupcake toppers or stapling Pokemon masks until the doorbell rang with the first guests.
I had the whole morning off. Looking back, I should have taken a “Treat Yo’self!” day. I should have booked a massage or a mani/pedi to celebrate my newfound freedom. Instead, in a music lesson waiting room, I started re-living the fighting over the past few weeks — the talking back, yelling and slamming doors. It began over the summer when we surrendered and got him his own mobile phone, the latest model that he partially saved up for and we gave him as an advance birthday gift. Overnight, we, parents got sidelined. Whatever was happening on that screen was way more important and urgent than us.
The little boy who laughed at our jokes, pumped us incessantly for childhood stories during car rides, hounded us on our phones during date nights out until we were safely back home, had disappeared. Suddenly, I was weeping. I felt an inexplicable emptiness, an unexpected sadness, and loss. All I knew was that my heart actually ached with a tangible, physical pain.
I texted my close girlfriend to see if she went through this with her teenage son. Yes, she assured me. She was in tears a lot too. I didn’t feel so crazy.
*****
That was the start of our journey through the tunnel of teenhood. For years, I’d been telling my sons about puberty, prepping them for all the physical changes to come. But I had woefully underprepared myself for the emotional changes it would mean for me. That day, I realized I was entering uncharted territory where the lines would be constantly redrawn.
It didn’t help that his year of change coincided with a new school, the height of the HK protests, and then the pandemic. Anger and resentment at us for switching him to a new middle school. Growing independence once he started taking public transportation. A need for secrecy and privacy, hiding away in his own room, finally separate from his younger brother; a room that’s been converted into a dark cave with the blinds permanently down, from which he emerges only at mealtimes.
Fearing that my sons would become angry, sullen teens, I had loaded up on parenting articles and books galore. But none had prepared me for the frustration about the type of communication (or lack thereof) I’d be facing.
I quickly discovered in the land of teen boys, parental questions are perceived as “annoying” at best and invasive at worst. “I dunno” is shorthand for I don’t feel like talking about it. Any unsolicited parental advice comes offs as “lectures.” Answers are reduced to monosyllables or grunts. “Get out of my room!” or “Leave me alone!” are common, shouldn’t be taken personally, but sting nonetheless.
Luckily, I’ve found some experts to help guide the way. My dear friend Dr. Anisha Abraham is a pediatrician and teen health specialist. She’s also a speaker and consultant who leads interactive workshops and seminars on a range of teen issues based on her decades of experience as a practicing physician.
Her just published, very engaging and easy to read book, Raising Global Teens, offers valuable insights, real-world examples, and practical solutions with humor and relatability.
Learning about how my son’s brain is developing and how boys often turn inwards, becoming quieter and less talkative during puberty, has been reassuring.
The example of how a neighborhood boy, who shared rides home with her kids, transformed over the summer from chatty and animated, joining in the car trivia games, too aloof and distant, putting on headphones and pulling a hoodie over his head to focus on a glowing laptop screen, could have been the very description of my own son.
When it comes to better communication, tips such as not making direct eye contact, having chats in cars, while shopping, or right before bedtime have really helped. Anisha refers to Rosalind Wisemen, author of Queen Beens and Wannabees, the inspiration for the movie Mean Girls, who recommends parents go on “a verbal diet” when it comes to teens. Apply the 50% rule, saying half of what you want to say or limiting discussions to three main issues at a time. Aim for quality of conversations rather than quantity. That’s a struggle, being the garrulous, chatty Cathy that I am. But it has made me aware to maximize my time when I have his attention and biting my tongue, saving additional talking points for later, when I don’t.
*****
Screentime was the main source of fighting. Over this year of lockdown, it became a bloody battleground. The more controls we set—signed contracts, time limits, no screen rules —the more seemed to get broken.
When I discovered Arcadia Kim’s infinitescreentime.com I instantly identified with her story. A former C-suite exec in the gaming industry — COO of the famed Electronic Arts — Arcadia’s a former peddler of video games, a self-described “drug dealer’ who went the other extreme when she had three kids. She became “Darth Mom,” controlling their screen use with stern, fearsome, unrelenting rules. When they stopped working she realized there had to be another way. Her mission is to dispel the fear around screen time and build a community to help raise screen-smart kids. Tech has changed ALL of our lives. Trying to fight the tide by denying it to my kids was proving futile. I now believe it’s better to monitor, understand, and connect with them through it.
In late summer, an opportunity came up to take Arcadia’s pilot course on Screentime Serenity and I quickly signed up. It’s proved invaluable. First, it made us as parents examine our frustration with our kids’ screen time use. What exactly were we getting so upset about? What constituted “bad” and “good” screen time in our own family? Why did we label certain screen time like gaming and YouTubing on devices as “bad” yet watching movies and TV together as “good” when in fact, TV is an older version of screen use that we, as parents, are just more familiar with?
The course made us develop and set forth our family values. Then we held all our different types of screentime against our values to see if they reinforced or broke those values. We realized it wasn’t so much the type of screentime but WHEN and WHERE they were being used.
In the end, our screentime rules were similar to what we started with but the main difference was our kids had a say and felt invested because we reviewed the rules together with their input.
Before the course, we had already established no devices at the table or in cars. Now the boys understand and agree that’s the time to connect as a family. Phones aren’t allowed in any bedroom at night, which now includes us, adults, as well.
We’ve also discovered new screen time to bond over. Six months ago, I would have never imagined sitting down every night to watch YouTube wrap-ups of each day’s funniest memes. But I look forward to having that chance to giggle with and cuddle my younger son on the cusp of teenhood.
There’s much more peace in our household now. Of course, there are still arguments but, at least for now, it’s rarely over screentime.
*****
Another great source has been listening to moms with older sons share their experiences. One told me one of her sons didn’t talk to her the whole year he was 14. She gleaned what was happening with his life by standing outside his door, eavesdropping on his phone calls. He came around by college age. Today, he works in the family business. In the age of texting, listening in on phone calls isn’t an option. But I have found myself outside my son’s door during Fortnite sessions when the boys openly communicate and mostly trash talk, and I find it oddly comforting.
A close friend wrote me these wise words on this age. “This is a normal course of separation that is required for them to find themselves separately from you. They come back and forth as they self-identify. And then they can love you from there. Try not to take it personally or to get triggered. Just keep loving and holding space for him and you. Be love and love will follow.”
Not getting triggered is key. We live in an apartment. My son’s new room is three steps away from the kitchen. After settling in, he actually asked if he could get a mini-fridge inside his room for “you know, drinks and stuff.” His dad couldn’t believe his gall. I dug deep, laughed it off, and calmly replied, “Sure, you can get all the mini-fridges you want once you’re old enough to move out and buy your own.”
*****
I’ve been thinking back to myself at 12 and 13 and how my whole world revolved around trying to figure out who I was and the pressure to fit in. My relationship with my mom was at its rockiest. Everything she said annoyed or irritated me. My eyes were stuck in permanent eye-roll. I talked back all the time, often lied, revealed nothing of my inner life to her, hung out with a tough crowd that smoked and drank. In short, I was way worse. So this is karma, payback.
I now recognize my son’s transition to teenhood as a bumpy adjustment for all of us. Looking back, I see a lot of the dramatic mood swings coincided with the physical changes —the zits, the voice breaking and deepening, the 5-inch growth spurt.
I hope it doesn’t take him to become a grown man before he circles back to us. Sometimes, that sweet little boy shows up unexpectedly. A late-night sofa snuggle, coming into my bed once the weather turned cold. I know it’s not for me but the heated mattress pad that makes my bed toasty and comfy. I take whatever I can get and sneak in beside him and he doesn’t object.
I know we’ve just entered the teen tunnel. There’s no telling how long and dark it’ll get. I just have to keep looking for the spots where light seeps in, keep holding space, and loving even when it hurts. And one day, that boy may bring me flowers again.