Looking at boredom through the lens of a mom of 4, and someone who’s navigating the constant distraction of today’s world

If you’re wondering what sort of thoughts take shape on a Tuesday evening at a youth ball game, I can tell you—it’s not always about the score.

Sometimes it’s about the bleachers.

More specifically, the row of kids sitting across from us, all about the same age as mine, all looking down at their phones like they’ve been handed something important to do. Not talking much, not really watching, just… occupied.

And then there are mine, sitting there with a bag of snacks, a sibling to bother, and a little too much time on their hands.

“I’m bored.”

It’s never dramatic. It comes out more like a quiet realization than a complaint.

And if I’m honest, there’s still a part of me that feels responsible when I hear it. Like I missed something. Like I should have packed better or planned better or brought along something to fill the gap.

Because somewhere along the way, we started believing that boredom means something is lacking. That a good day should be full, and a good childhood even fuller. Full of options, full of entertainment, full of something to reach for the second things go quiet.

But sitting there, watching a whole row of kids scroll past the same inning my kids are actually watching, I’m starting to wonder if we’ve just gotten that backwards.

Life’s moments we rush past

Boredom feels like a gap, and most of us don’t like gaps.

We fill them quickly, often without thinking much about it. A snack, a show, a scroll, a plan—something to smooth it over and keep things moving along.

I do it too.

But that space we keep trying to cover over isn’t empty in the way we think it is. It’s just unfinished. It’s the part where nothing has taken shape yet, where something could happen if we give it a minute longer than feels comfortable.

And if we don’t rush it, something usually does come. Not always right away, and not always in a way that looks impressive from the outside, but it comes.

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Parenting and Boredom: The Ball Game Conversation I was Waiting for

This comes up at ball games more than anywhere else.

We’re sitting there, half watching, half just passing time, and my kids start noticing what’s around them. Kids their age, everywhere, on their phones.

And you can feel it settle in a little. Not loud, not dramatic, just a quiet kind of wondering—Why don’t I have that? Would anyone even want to talk anyway?

And I get it. I really do.

There’s a part of me that wants to hand something over and make it easier, to help them blend in and take away that feeling.

But instead, I usually find myself saying something like, “Hey, look at that thing over there,” and I’ll point to something random. The other day it was that automatic basketball hoop lifter off to the side of the court.

“Do you think the person who invented that had their eyes glued to those blue-lite rectangles?”

They look at me a little sideways, which feels fair. After all, I’m their mom and at this point, have NO idea what I’m talking about.

But I keep going, because I’ve been thinking about this more than I probably should.

“Or do you think they had long stretches of time where nothing much was happening… where they were just sitting there, noticing things, turning ideas over with a sketch, maybe even a little bored?”

Because the more I think about it, the more I wonder—

how many things in this world came from that exact place?

Not from constant stimulation or perfectly planned schedules, but from the in-between.

From the kid staring out a window.
From the person tinkering with something that didn’t quite work yet.
From someone who had enough quiet to notice a problem… and enough time to sit with it long enough to imagine something better.

How many ideas were first just a passing thought in an otherwise uneventful afternoon?

How many inventions, businesses, books, recipes, pieces of art… how many of them began in what we would now call boredom?

We tend to treat boredom like it’s wasted time. Something to avoid. Something to fix as quickly as possible. We’ve been conditioned to think we shouldn’t have time to be bored. That we need to be productive every waking hour.

But I’m starting to think it’s been the starting point for more than we realize.

That maybe boredom isn’t the absence of something…

it’s the beginning of it.

And maybe the kids who don’t have something constantly in their hands aren’t the ones missing out.

Maybe they’re the ones standing at the edge of something we can’t quite see yet.

At the very least, that’s what I’m telling myself as I sit there, holding the line.

I’m hoping one day—maybe far, far down the road—they’ll look back and say, “You know, Mom was right about that.”

I’m also fully aware that day may not come until they’re about 35.

And honestly, I’ll take it.

I’m Not Above It Either

I’d love to say this is just something kids struggle with, but that wouldn’t be true.

I’ve noticed it in myself too, especially over the past few years. That ability to sit quietly without reaching for something has weakened a bit. Not all at once, just slowly, in ways that are easy to miss.

Waiting in the car, I grab my phone. A quiet minute in the kitchen, I turn something on. A pause in the day, and I fill it before I even realize I’m doing it.

It’s become so normal it feels automatic.

And I don’t love that.

So I’ve been trying, in small ways, to push back against it. Nothing dramatic, just letting the uncomfortable feel a little more… normal. Letting it sit a little longer than I want to.

A few extra minutes of quiet. Driving without anything playing. Standing at the sink with just my own thoughts for company.

And lately, I’ve started doing something that feels a little unnecessary and very intentional at the same time. I’ll leave my phone at home on purpose, even for something simple like school pick-up. Not because I forgot it, but because I didn’t bring it.

Just to see what happens. Just to remind myself that I can sit there, in the quiet, watching the line slowly move forward, without needing that little rectangle in my hand to get through it.

And I’ll be honest, it’s not always comfortable.

But somewhere in that quiet, I’m reminded that I’m not actually alone in it. That God doesn’t tend to compete with noise, and maybe part of the reason I’ve felt so quick to fill every empty space is because I’ve forgotten what it feels like to sit still long enough to notice Him there.

So I stay a little longer.

Not because it feels natural yet, but because I think it’s good for me.

The Benefits of Sitting in Boredom

There’s something being built in those moments, even if it doesn’t look like much from the outside.

When boredom kicks in, so does our “Default Mode Network” – allowing our brains to flow through bouts of insight, and comprehension.

A kid kicking dirt, staring off, wandering around a bit—it can all look like nothing. But underneath that, something is working. Patience. Creativity. The ability to stay in a moment that isn’t immediately rewarding. Working the muscles we don’t think about and allowing boredom to build creativity, memory, and attention.

That doesn’t come naturally. It’s practiced.

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So, how can I lean into boredom?

I know I’m not the only one who can feel the effects of constant overstimulation: Days that fly by too fast, leaving the moments I’ve just lived feeling hazy.

I’m assuming you’ve seen the panicky posts during a scroll on Instagram, too. That we’ve “killed creativity” or “curiosity is lost.” But instead, let’s focus on the root of what’s going on: we see a trend, but we have the means to change it.

Allow boredom to be a part of your day

If we’re always stepping in to fix boredom, we’re not leaving much room for that practice to happen.

I’m not trying to create some perfectly unplugged life.

We enjoy a movie. We use our phones. I’m not pretending otherwise.

But I am starting to see the value in not rushing to fill every gap. In letting a little boredom stay without assuming something has gone wrong.

Because more often than not, it hasn’t.

It’s just a moment that hasn’t turned into anything yet.

The car ride back from church, waiting in line at the grocery store, and the few minutes after a good conversation has ended – all times we are tempted to grab for a screen or turn the radio dial, are great places to start challenging these habits

For me this mindfulness feels like a shift that’s been needing to happen and for the kids, it’s a huge lesson in delayed gratification and making the most of every moment they are in.

Building on Mindful Habits

Dialing in on boredom is one piece of a larger puzzle of caring for your mind and body. Creating a life that moves in rhythm starts with intentional habits – practices that serve you on a daily basis.

I’ve compiled lists of the habits I’ve picked been working on. Small shifts that have come from listening to myself enough to notice what I need to change. Nothing dramatic, but the benefits are numerous.

• Building micro-habits
• Simple but effective habits

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Letting Boredom Be Enough

So when I hear “I’m bored” now, I try to pause before responding.

Sometimes I still offer an idea.

But sometimes, I just let it sit.

And almost every time, something shifts. They figure something out, start something, or settle into where they are without needing to change it.

And I sit there too, reminding myself that we’re not just raising kids who know how to stay busy.

We’re raising kids who know how to be.

And that feels like something worth holding onto.

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Closing Thoughts

Before I leave you to ponder boredom in a way that is meaningful for you and your family, I’m curious to hear what you try when you are tempted to reach for a screen? And how are you are parenting your kids through this? It’s not about being completely screen free, it’s about taking time to appreciate lives precious moments that often fly by too fast. Let me know your thoughts below!