I prided myself on being unattached to any device (装置). Then, I got a smart phone.
It's not a very fancy smart phone, but I was lost. It was used during commercial breaks, the line at the bank, the three minutes it takes for popcorn to be ready. I even checked my phone while on the phone with someone else.
I broke the most sacred (不得违背的) technology rule I have with my kids — no devices in the bedroom. I didn't just take my smart phone in the bedroom. I charged it there. Soon that device was the first thing I caught after waking.
I used to keep a book with me in my spare time; now I kept the smart phone. I opened some apps without conscious thought; remembering to look up on a sports field became a challenge.
Recently, I was waiting for my youngest child's soccer game to start, trying to answer emails, text my husband, and update a website. The phone lost its signal before my updating the website.
I drove home and rushed to the laptop. Coat still on, I started troubleshooting (检修故障). My oldest sat across from me.
I asked the standard Mom-questions half-heartedly, half-listening as she responded. She was talking about some music opportunity, something she was excited about ...
I glanced up from my screen and saw her looking right at me. My fingers froze and I had an awful feeling. I realized it was the first time I had looked at her.
I started apologizing, but she just laughed.
"My friends are much better at multitasking online."
The next morning, I did something that was more painful than I'd like to admit. I deleted (删除) my apps. When I finished, my smart phone was just a phone again — something I could forget in the car.