Last night we watched The Mitchells vs. The Machines with our girls (ages 7 and 9).

If you haven't seen it, it's a somewhat chaotic movie about a family trying to reconnect on a roadtrip during a robot apocalypse. It’s snort-out-loud funny.

But it’s also a movie where we pressed pause a few times to talk as a family about parts that felt real right now. Like the ubiquitous use of screens. And how easy it is to outsource everything to them.

There’s this one scene where after all the wifi in the world is knocked out, swarms of people willingly enter isolation pods with the promise of free wifi. And it’s something I could see happening. It was hilarious and also really sad.

But this is not going to be another newsletter about how parents should feel guilty about this.

You see, I am an optimistic realist. Our phones are our calendars, our cameras, our GPS, our banking app, our work computer, our kids' school communication. And for most of us, we don't have the option of putting them in a drawer for the day.

But, I also think many of us know something isn't working.

I've gone through stretches where I have been flat-out addicted to my phone. And where I’ve desperately tried to reduce my reliance. I’ve:

None of these worked long term. Because eventually I needed to send a Slack and didn’t have my computer. Or school communication is only in an app. Or a friend texted. Or I needed directions and no longer have a Rand McNally.

This isn't just a bad habit or vice. It's an ecosystem designed by some of the smartest people in the world to compete for our attention.

And somehow we're supposed to teach our kids how to have a healthy relationship with technology while we're still trying to figure it out ourselves.

Have you ever unlocked your phone to check one thing and forgotten what it was because you've somehow ended up reading comments on a post you don't even care about?

Or picked it up for the weather and resurfaced twenty-five minutes later wondering what the weather was like outside?

Or had your kid say, "Mom..." twice before you realized they were talking to you?

I think for most of us, this is a pretty universal set of experiences. And I doubt any of us can truly control it.

Jonathan Haidt has written brilliantly about what smartphones are doing to kids. I think every parent should read his work.

But after watching that movie, I found myself shifting from “phones are rotting our brains” to…

"How much of my one life do I want to spend somewhere I never wanted to be?"

You see. I am squarely in mid-life. I'm about to turn 42. The big Four Two.

Everyone tells you your kids childhood goes by fast. Nobody tells you adulthood does too.

Sometimes it feels like Marty McFly dropped me in the DeLorean and shot me into the future. Quick sidebar: we tried to watch Back to the Future with our kids because it’s PG and it is definitely not PG. Suffice to say we had to have a few more conversations after the movie about the b-word and why a guy attacked a girl in a car. But I digress.

Back to midlife questions. I don’t think parents should feel guilty about being on their phones sometimes instead of pouring all their attention all the time into their kids. My forever hot take is that sometimes we should spend our attention on ourselves.

It’s easy to think, “My daughters won't be little forever.” Which is true and worth reflecting on how we spend our attention.

But I also won't be 42 forever.

Our attention is the only place we ever actually get to live. It's where conversations happen. It's where memories are made. It's where childhood exists.

Maybe that's what we're really trying to teach our kids. Not that screens are bad. Not that they should never struggle with distraction. But that their attention is valuable enough to protect. And our short, fleeting life is too.

I don't have a perfect system. If I did, this newsletter wouldn't exist.

But here are a few things that have helped me think differently.

📱 Stop chasing perfection. I don't think the goal is to become someone who never looks at their phone. That's probably unrealistic for humanity.

⏰ Protect moments instead of minutes. I've had far more success deciding that dinner, bedtime, or a walk are phone-free than trying to hit a daily screen-time number.

🗣️ Say it out loud. "I'm just checking the weather for our hike." It helps our kids understand that phones are tools, not default destinations.

❤️ Repair when you miss it. If you realize you've been distracted, look up. Put the phone down. Rejoin the moment. Kids don't need perfect parents. They need parents who come back.

🌊 Build a life that's harder to scroll through. I think the answer isn't just less phone, but more life. Surfing does this for me. Once I'm in the water, there's nowhere else to be, and you physically can’t have a phone in the ocean. Maybe for you it's painting, gardening, knitting, running, woodworking, reading a physical book, or playing an instrument. Whatever it is, find something that reminds your brain what full attention feels like.

📖 The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt. If you haven't read it yet, it's worth your time.

🎬 The Mitchells vs. The Machines. I honestly thought I was sitting down for a family movie night. Instead I got a surprisingly thoughtful reminder about what technology can take from us when we're not paying attention.

It makes me cringe to give advice about screen time and usage. Because it’s your life. And people are very judgey about this thing that almost all of us are bad at and has been designed by very smart people to make it hard to quit.

But after watching The Mitchells vs. The Machines and the realization that I'm about to turn 42, I was reminded:

My life is happening right now.

Not when I finally get through my inbox. Not after I answer one more email. Not after I finish scrolling. Right now.

Of course I want to be present for my daughters. That's one of the greatest privileges of my life.

But I also want to be present for my own life.

I want to remember random Tuesday nights when I decided to take them for a dunk at the beach. I want to laugh more at my hilarious 7 year old and read more with my 9 year old. I want to hear about my husband’s day without wondering what task I need to complete on my phone next.

Because where we place our attention is where we experience our lives.

And this one is too beautiful, too fleeting, and too precious to spend somewhere we never meant to be.

With you,

Rachael

P.S. If you have a request for the next Issue, please drop me a reply!