I Don’t Limit My Kids’ Screen Time

Let’s just rip the Band-Aid off: I don’t limit screen time in my house. I never have. And before you clutch your pearls and start typing a long comment about dopamine, attention spans, and “back in my day” lectures, hear me out.

I’m not anti-boundaries. I’m not ignoring my kids. I’m not unaware of what they’re doing online. But the idea that I should hover with a stopwatch every time one of my kids picks up a screen? That I should turn into some digital hall monitor to prove I’m a “good mom”? No thanks.

That brand of perfection parenting exhausts me—and I know I’m not the only one.

The Myth of the “Perfect” Screen Time Balance

There’s this magical belief floating around the internet—mostly in mom groups and carefully curated parenting influencers—that if you just limit screens enough, your kids will transform into classical-music-listening, book-devouring angels who do chores without asking. Spoiler: they won’t.

Kids are still kids.

Screens are not the problem. Screens are a tool. Like any tool, they can be used well or poorly. Hammers build houses and smash fingers—it’s how they’re used that matters. And frankly, a lot of what’s being labeled as “bad screen time” is just... kids being kids in 2025.

My kids FaceTime their cousins. They draw on art apps. They play games where they strategize, collaborate, and even—gasp—lose. They watch cooking videos and help make dinner. They’ve learned to type faster than I did at 20. This isn’t passive zombification. This is 21st-century childhood.

So no, I’m not cutting them off after 30 minutes just because some outdated guideline says I should. The world they’re growing up in is digital. Pretending otherwise doesn’t help them—it handicaps them.

Screens Didn’t Replace Parenting—They Reframed It

Here’s a confession that will probably get me kicked out of the “organic, wooden toy” club: screens make my life easier. And that doesn’t make me less of a mom—it makes me a more sane one.

Sometimes I need a break. Sometimes I need to cook dinner, take a call, fold laundry, or just sit down and breathe. If putting on Bluey or letting my kid play Animal Crossing gives me 30 minutes of peace, that’s not failure. That’s survival.

But even beyond the convenience, screens have created shared experiences. My daughter and I watched Anne with an E together and ended up talking about feminism, bullying, and empathy. My son showed me how to play Zelda and taught me about resource management and puzzle solving. Those are not wasted hours. Those are memories.

What I Do Instead of Limiting Screen Time

Instead of using a timer, I use conversations.

I ask:“How does your body feel after playing that game for a while?”“Did that video make you laugh or make you feel weird?”“Do you feel like you want to go outside for a bit or keep doing this?”

I’m not teaching them to fear screens—I’m teaching them to be aware of themselves while using them. To notice when they’re getting frustrated or tired. To understand what’s entertainment and what’s advertising. To feel empowered, not punished.

And guess what? It works. My kids do unplug sometimes. Not because I force them to, but because they’ve learned how to listen to themselves. That’s the kind of regulation that actually lasts.

Let’s Stop Shaming Moms for Doing What Works

Some moms feel better with charts and timers. That’s great. But there’s this trend where not limiting screen time is automatically seen as lazy, neglectful, or damaging. And honestly, that’s just another way we pile guilt onto mothers for existing.

We’re already expected to feed everyone homemade meals, keep a spotless house, raise emotionally intelligent children, look good doing it, and never need a break. If screens help us get through a rough afternoon or just buy us a moment of silence, that’s not bad parenting. That’s parenting in the real world.

You’re allowed to need rest. You’re allowed to choose your battles. You’re allowed to trust your kids—and yourself.

Screens Aren’t Going Anywhere—So Let’s Parent Accordingly

Our kids are growing up in a world we didn’t. Screens aren’t a novelty to them. They’re normal. The goal isn’t to cut them off from that—it’s to teach them how to live with it in a healthy, balanced way. And that starts with us modeling trust, flexibility, and open conversation—not fear.

So no, I don’t limit my kids’ screen time. I guide them. I talk to them. I engage with them. And yes, sometimes I hand them a tablet and walk away—and that’s okay, too.

If you’re doing what works in your home—even if it’s not Instagram-worthy—you’re doing enough. You are not lazy. You are not failing. You are showing up, every day, in the messy, beautiful reality of modern motherhood.

And you should never apologize for that.

Your turn: How do you handle screen time in your house? What works, what doesn’t, and what do you wish more people were honest about?