About Us

I'm the reason Presenthood exists, and not in a good way.

While it may often seem like this level of technology immersion has been around for a long time, it really hasn't.

As children of the 80s, Suzie and I grew up around technology, but weren't steeped in it. Floppy disks, Oregon Trail, dialup. These were our first tastes of the Digital Age.

During college, we each created Facebook profiles. Used the internet to study. Printed out MapQuest directions to find new places. Life wasn't online, but the two touched sometimes.

After college, we met. Typed one another's phone numbers into our flip phones, quickly fell deeply in love, spent every moment we could together and then texted late into the nights.

Cell phone pictures taken together were grainy and low-res, but cherished.

We got married in 2010, and neither one of us had a smartphone. In fact, two years went by before we took the plunge. After all, we were having a baby. What could be more important than capturing moments with such a wonderful, sweet bundle of joy and then sharing milestones with our family and friends?

It didn't take long.

Specific, worthwhile and irregular tasks gave way to empty, mechanical and perpetual scrolling. Scrolling. Tapping. Staring.

Of course, I was oblivious to these changes — the effects they were having on our relationship, our parenthood and my productivity. Ever mindful of the bigger picture, Suzie began to urge me to put my phone down, talk to her, play with our sons. Was what I was doing important enough that I couldn't do it later?

I would get defensive. “Just a minute.” “Let me just finish this really quick.” “Hold on.” My justifications. Innocent phrases, used to veil the nonverbal roar I would utter multiple times a day: “What I'm doing right now is more important.”

We fought about it one day. I don't remember what about. After storming away muttering, my pride gave way to shame. What was I doing? Who was I becoming? What was important to me?

I went into the garage, found some scrap wood and [poorly] fashioned a box.

Carved the words “Dad is Home” into it, and hung it on the wall by the front door. Started to drop my phone into it as I walked in.

Sometimes I was good at it, and we'd notice a difference. More closeness. More happiness. Oftentimes I wasn't, and we'd see more shortness. More sarcasm. More passive aggressiveness.

Visitors to our home would see the box and ask about it. As we'd tell the story, it was clear that the experiences we'd had were not unique to us.

Curiosity led us to start doing research — consulting both anecdotal and academic sources. 

This post details some of it:

It was clear; the effects of continuous digital connection were not trivial. These devices were often having a clear, detrimental impact on human behavior.

I married a go-getter. She sees things that need to be done and she does them. Inaction wasn't an option. Motion was.

This is Presenthood. Deliberate, approachable and actionable resources to help us all navigate this new normal, without leaving behind the anchors that hold us firm to true connection.

Sometimes we'll fail. Other times we'll succeed. Cut yourself some slack and treasure the small victories. Slow down. Breathe a little deeper. Squeeze a little tighter.

What happens there is never as important as what happens here. Never.