Rewind: Why We’re Raising Our Kids Like It’s 1995

To begin: If your little one’s within arm’s reach, press pause. A blog can wait — your presence can’t be rewound.

Remember When…

Remember when boredom meant building a pillow fort, not asking for a tablet? When Saturday mornings were for cartoons and soggy cereal, and the rest of the day was a blur of scraped knees, sidewalk chalk, and bike rides that transformed into an hours-long adventure?

I do too. And that’s exactly why I’m here.

Welcome to my little corner of the internet — where I’m (with my husband’s support) hitting rewind and raising our kids with a little less screen and a lot more childhood.

Why We’re Choosing a Screen-Free Life (Mostly)

Let’s be clear: this isn’t about shame or perfection. We don’t live on a farm off the grid and churn our own butter. (Though I do bake my own bread, and have considered investing in a countertop mill.)

This is about intention.

As a mom, I’ve told myself “just one episode” more times than I’d like to admit — only to look up an hour later and see that all-too-familiar glazed-over stare, my daughter’s name echoing into the void like I wasn’t even there. It hits hard — not with guilt exactly, but with a deep knowing that something’s off.

As an educator, I’ve seen that same blankness show up in classrooms. I’ve watched attention spans shrink, patience dissolve, and creativity dim under the weight of constant digital noise. Competing with the dopamine hit of a screen — a like, a swipe, a quick reward — often feels like David squaring off against Goliath.

Those moments stayed with me. They stirred something.
And eventually, it clicked: we were outsourcing our kids’ imaginations. Handing over the messy, beautiful work of creativity, boredom, problem-solving, and wonder — to a screen. And in doing so, we were slowly unplugging them from the very things that once made childhood feel like magic.

We’re not anti-technology. We’re just pro-childhood. The kind that smells like grass stains and sounds like belly laughs echoing down a hallway lined with Beanie Babies and LEGO landmines.

It’s Not Easy — But It’s Worth It

Screen-free parenting in 2025 feels a bit like showing up to a baseball game with a wiffleball bat — you’re playing the same sport, but you’re not exactly playing by the new rules. It takes effort, patience, and sometimes a serious commitment to being the “mean parent” who says no to screens and yes to muddy shoes, board games, and long, meandering conversations about nothing in particular.

But we’re in it. Not because it’s easy — but because it’s worth it.

Screens are everywhere, but connection — real connection — is what I’m after. And if you’re here, you might be after it too.

What This Blog Is (And Isn’t)

This blog is my digital time capsule — part diary, part how-to, part “you got this” for other parents navigating the screen-free, slowed-down path.

This is:

A place to feel seen if you’re choosing less screen time and more connection

A treasure trove of ideas for screen-free play, old-school fun, and analog adventures

A reminder that you’re not weird — you’re just a little vintage (in the best way)

This is not:

A guilt trip

A place for unrealistic expectations

A place that assumes your kid has never seen a screen (ours have too — and that’s okay)

Join the Club (No Membership Card Required)

I’m here to build a backyard-style community together — complete with scraped knees, sidewalk chalk, and all. A place where we swap ideas, share wins, vent about the hard days, and remember that we’re not doing this alone.

You are not alone — and you don’t need an app for this.
Just heart, grit, and the courage of a kid racing through Olmec’s temple with a half-assembled Silver Monkey in hand.

Let’s Start the Conversation

Tell me:
What’s one thing from your childhood you wish your kid(s) could experience?
Leave a comment below — and let’s build something analog, real, and totally rad.

Thanks for pressing play on this journey with me.

Thanks for being here—and for believing in rewinding, not rewiring, childhood.

Now… go outside. I’ll still be here when you get back.

Word up & power down,