Lately, we’ve been getting this quasi-question from moms: 

“Is it okay that I’m listening to podcasts while I’m home with my kids…?”

This generally comes out as almost a confession. We might be chatting about general life (you know, kids who aren’t back in school yet, mourning the loss of the gym, the never ending rain here in the PNW), and as she tells me about what she’s listening to these days, it seems to be coated with a layer of guilt.

I get it.

There just isn’t a lot of time to listen to podcasts. Or anything. The places and spaces this used to happen, at least for me, are gone. Childcare is still closed at our YMCA, so this means I exercise at home.  Also gone? ALL OF THE PLACES I drove my children. Solo car time has basically disappeared, and to keep the peace (and of course, better their hearts and minds) we turn on The Hobbit or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. 

And since we generally abide by the rule of communal listening in the car, I also am listening to the tales of Bilbo and Charlie.

So trust me, I get the pull to have a few moments of adult conversation happening in your head in the midst of chaos that seems to never end.

But with the ease of AirPods, the temptation to always be listening, always consuming, seems to be on the rise. There’s more content available to us than ever before and it can be overwhelming to keep up with even just one program you enjoy. But as I fight my own temptation to pop headphones in during the day, and as moms keep half-confessing that this is how they’re making it through the day, the English teacher in me can’t help but picture Mildred Montag of Fahrenheit 451 popping in her “seashells” as she talks to her “family” on the wall sized screens that compose her living room.

So I want to talk about this question that moms keep asking: Is it okay to be listening to a podcast while the kids are home? Because it seems like in the very asking of the question, we might have an inkling of the answer. 

The Research on Continuous Partial Attention

Let’s first get to why there seems to be a rub here at all. What does the research say about our attention?

Linda Stone, former Microsoft researcher and founder of The Attention Project, coined the term “continuous partial attention.” She defines it as this: “to pay partial attention—CONTINUOUSLY.  We want to connect and be connected…to be busy to be connected, is to be alive, to be recognized, and to matter” (LindaStone.com).

Sometimes—perhaps often—the life of a mom is monotonous, tedious, tiresome. The dishes and laundry and meal prep are endless, not to mention the actual stewarding of lives and hearts that must take place in our homes. So maybe we’re popping in our AirPods in an “effort to NOT MISS ANYTHING.” Stone describes continuous partial attention as “always-on, anywhere, anytime, any place behavior that involves an artificial sense of constant crisis. We are always in high alert when we pay continuous partial attention.”

This is the beginning of the problem. It often feels as if whatever is happening OUT THERE is better than what’s happening inside our very homes. 

If only I can get a few minutes…

If only I can listen to an adult conversation…

If only I can catch up on current events/a sermon series/pop culture…

These voices and these people are OUT THERE in the actual world, which can seem one million times better than being trapped IN HERE with these dirty sticky children who need baths and food and won’t pick up their toys. 

But have you noticed? 

When we split our attention, as Stone describes, our brains (we’ll get to our hearts in a minute) are impacted. She says that, “in large doses, [continuous partial attention] contributes to a stressful lifestyle, to operating in crisis management mode, and to compromised ability to reflect, to make dioecious, and to think creatively…it contributes to a feeling of overwhelm, over-stimulation and to a sense of being unfulfilled.” 

Cal Newport, in his book Deep Work, addresses this idea as it applies to corporate work and our ability to produce content that is meaningful. “A workday driven by the shallow, from a neurological perspective, is likely to be a draining and upsetting day, even if most of the shallow things that capture your attention seem harmless or fun”(Newport, Deep Work).

Most days, my day-to-day consists of schooling my first grader and the general keeping of the house. I don’t think Newport was considering me when he wrote Deep Work, but I’d like to argue that the research transfers.

On the days I let myself be distracted by innocent but shallow things, like texts or Voxer or a quick IG check, there is a distinct difference in not only my heart posture but in my brain’s ability to focus on the task at hand. Suddenly the work I’m doing (even it’s “just” a math lesson or chopping up apples and cheese for snack) is unsatisfying. 

Even more so, I can feel my ability to focus diminish. I’d like to think that I can check a quick text and hop right back to listening my seven year old recall the adventures of Bilbo Baggins, but my brain can’t make that jump. 

According to Newport, when we are interrupted in between tasks, our brains become “coated”; we’re unable to move on fully to the next task. That text and how I might respond floats around in my head until I can fully digest and deal with it; but likely, I will read it, not respond immediately, and then have to try to keep that idea while listening to the riddles Baggins solved. No wonder my brain often feels like a scrambled mess. 

It is.

Newport argues that deep work is more satisfying to our souls and brains; that when we are challenged and fully engaged in what we’re doing (even if it’s making sandwiches or wiping up spilled milk), we are more fully satisfied (Deep Work, 84).

We must be clear about what matters. 

As the poet Mary Oliver said, “Attention is the beginning of devotion.” This is why there’s an unease, I think, welling up in mothers about plugging in while the kids are running amok. It doesn’t feel right because perhaps it isn’t.

While it might feel like we’re missing out when we’re alone in the trenches of motherhood, we must right our eyes, and beg God to give us an eternal kingdom perspective. Friends. THIS is the work. It’s not glamorous or pretty; it often isn’t worth being photographed or posted. But the ins and out of motherhood, of raising children who wonder and marvel and matter, this is what matters. 

A right perspective can make the drudgery bearable, the battles manageable, the monotony even joyful; because we are doing them not for our glory but for his, not to build our kingdoms, but to raise these little sinners into saints, equipped with the Gospel, to go forth and do the good works God has set before them to do (Ephesians 2:10). 

The awesome thing is, as science and scripture both testify, “what we choose to focus on and what we choose to ignore—plays in defining the quality of our life.” (Deep Work, 76). 

Winifred Gallagher, in her 2009 book Rapt, recalls her cancer diagnosis and time undergoing treatment (what most would consider the worst of times): “This disease wanted to monopolize my attention, but as much as possible, I would focus on my life instead.” She committed to focus on what was good in her life (76). While her renewed focus didn’t fix her sickness, it altered her ability to have joy in the process. 

“We tend to place a lot of emphasis on our circumstances, assuming what happens to us (or fails to happen) determines how we feel…according to Gallagher, decades of research contradict this understanding. Our brains instead construct our world view based on what we pay attention to” (Deep Work, 77). This is exactly what scripture tells us.

All through scripture this is proclaimed: 

“Be transformed through the renewal of your mind” (Romans 12:2).

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day” (2 Corinthians 4:16).

So what does this mean for us as Christ-followers? 

As mothers—who want to have a second to breathe—and also want to disciple our children well? Is it okay to have a podcast going in our ear while simultaneously parenting, placating, and plating dinner?

We must listen to that still small voice that is prompting us—I think in the very asking of the question we’re acknowledging that splitting our attention isn’t the best, for us or our children. In doing so, our efforts at whatever it is we’re attempting to do are muddled at best. 

The reality of continuous partial attention is that we will be anxious and torn and distracted—the lies of the enemy the lures of the world are strong. The way our phones work these into our subconscious is unnervingly subtle and often goes unnoticed. Our goal in life, as Christians,  isn’t to simply be happier than the rest; our joy should be sure and steady because this life isn’t all there is. 

There certainly might be times and stages of life where listening to your own podcast (or show or whatever) while the kids are home is helpful and realistic. We are big believers in independent play and quiet time in our house. There are moments in my day where it is entirely appropriate for me to listen on my own; but we must be mindful about when and why we’re choosing this. 

If my attention is spent giving thanks in all circumstances and asking God to redirect my thoughts to his goodness and glory, then my general attitude will most definitely reflect such. This is the miracle. I am not a victim to circumstances or believing that motherhood is meaningless and monotonous.  We’ve been given a choice, and as as the Bible and research both preach, what we think about matters.