I overcame the fear and stigma of giving my kid extra screen time during the pandemic. Here's why he's better off for it.

Petro with her husband and kids.

Melissa Petro

• Experts used to urge parents to only allow up to one hour of screen time a day for kids.
• As a working mom, Melissa Petro says she overcame the stigma that allowing extra screen time made her a bad parent.
• She says more parents and experts are softening their stances on screen time — and many kids are happier for it.
• Visit the Business section of Insider for more stories.

After going through a very public and humiliating job loss in my early 30s, I considered myself impervious to other people's opinions. Then at 38 years old I became a mom, and I got a sort of shock. When it came to parenting, I learned, everyone has an opinion on everything, from breast versus bottle to how much personal information to post about your kids online (if any), to whether or not it's traumatic to let a baby "cry it out." 

But one of the greatest issues up for debate, I learned, was screen time. 

In 2017, the year my son was born, the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) was recommending no screen time for children younger than 18 months and up to one supervised hour of screen time a day for kids ages 18 to 24. Children over the age of two were also encouraged to limit their screen time to under an hour. 

For the most part, the parents I knew followed these recommendations - or felt guilty when they didn't.

But since the COVID-19 pandemic shuttered childcare centers and schools, kids are spending more time than ever in front of their devices, and experts are walking back their super strict screen time guidelines and even hyping the benefits. 

The news that screen time may not be as evil as once feared - and could even be beneficial - comes as no surprise to my husband and me. Like most parents, we were initially ambivalent about giving our young toddler an iPad or setting the baby up in front of the TV. But for some time - and well, before a pandemic forced our hand - we came around to the idea of allowing our young children to explore technology, and began recognizing the benefits immediately.

These days, screen time is a given. But not so long ago, it was taboo.

The author's kids.

Melissa Petro

As a consequence of the pandemic, children's screen time has soared, and attitudes towards the technology has softened, and so it feels almost nostalgic to remember a time when it was taken for granted that any screen time at all (let alone too much) would have a deleterious effect on our kids.

In Facebook mom groups I gravitated to as a first time mom, anti-screen time screeds were an almost daily occurrence. Moms posted dubiously sourced articles suggesting screens were to blame for a host of physical and mental health issues, everything from obesity and eye strain to anxiety, depression, and even suicide.

Most moms kept vigilant track of the amount of time their kids spent in front of smartphones, computers, television, or video game consoles, while others banned devices entirely.

While the moms encouraged one another to follow experts' 'better safe than sorry' approach, they were never harsh.

When every so often, someone would guiltily confess how she occasionally permitted a little Daniel Tiger in the background while she prepared dinner - or that she handed her kid a tablet so that she could shower in peace - other moms would jump in to reassure her and confess their own transgressions.

Rarely would a mom admit how she personally relied on screens as a habit, but I saw them out in the world. In the grocery store and on the subway, parents occupied their babies in strollers with smartphones. Toddlers, obviously familiar with the technology, huddled over glowing tablets in restaurants while their parents enjoyed a quiet meal. 

Even less visible were the parents who - without reliable, affordable childcare - felt no choice but to put their children in front of a screen while they attended to professional responsibilities. 

Long before COVID-19 shuttered daycares and in-person learning, there have been moms who couldn't afford to eschew screens.

Family lunchtime.

Melissa Petro

From the beginning, it was our instinct that screens weren't all "bad" - after all, both my husband and I both work in digital media. Still, debates over screen time made me doubt my maternal instincts, and I probably wouldn't have given our son a tablet if it hadn't become necessary.

My son Oscar was still in his mini crib when we introduced him to Bi mmi Boo, one of countless of educational apps designed specifically for young kids. By then, balancing motherhood and a career had proved impossible. 

It wasn't enough to work while my baby napped. My career was rapidly tanking, and I was not making ends meet. The apartment was a disaster. I was exhausted, burnt out, and depressed.

Within no time, our son had figured out the basic mechanics, navigating from the app to the home screen and back again. He smiled in delight as he figured out how to make the cartoon bear dance. 

Screen time was more than convenient - it was clearly beneficial to my son.

From then on, Oscar explored his tablet independently for at least an hour or two every day. While I completed assignments or did housework, my son learned his letters, numbers, colors, and shapes. Within weeks, Oscar was navigating the internet like a pro, having fun and hitting developmental milestones - not in spite of technology, but because of it.

By the time the COVID crisis began affecting us last March, my son's tablet had become just another toy. He masters educational games just as fast as we download them, and explores content and develops interests free from my influence. Sure, in the beginning he got sucked into a lot of videos of tires crushing stuff. But eventually, he'd gravitated towards videos about horses, and had learned the names for at least two dozen construction vehicles (two subjects I might not have thought to introduce on my own). 

All the while, he's grown increasingly competent and confident with technology. My husband and I joke that, at three years old, he is already more tech savvy than we are. Not surprising, given that before his first birthday, he'd already taught himself how to skip ads.

Thanks to COVID-19, it's no longer a scarlet letter to say your kid gets a little - or even a lot - of screen time in a day.

Screen time with dad.

Melissa Petro

In the past year, some experts have revised their positions on screen time, walking back warning and offering practical advice as opposed to arbitrary time limits. One expert who literally wrote a book about setting screen time limits went so far as to apologize for being so out of touch. 

It's a step in the right direction and undoubtedly a relief for parents who agonize. Still, I can't help but feel dismayed, and more than a little vindicated. As other writers have articulated, screen time limit 'rules' were rooted in classism and racism, and I agree with those who declared it a feminist issue.

Using screens to help my household to function didn't make me a negligent mother - nor did it make my kid "moody, crazy, and lazy", as one particularly offensive headline suggested. 

Instead, introducing technology early was an act of resourcefulness. As for my son: When he's not building Lego boats, drawing underwater scenes, or pretending to be a oceanographer, he's usually online, researching everything there is to learn about fish, oceans, and boats. Typical toddler obsessions aside, he's well-rounded and intelligent, creative, clever, and kind.  

I'm not immune to mom shame, but it doesn't control me like it used to. And when it comes to screens, I'm clear: My kid's alright - and even after loads and loads of screen time, your kid will be alright, too.

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