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parenting

Social Media is Building a Culture of Public Judgement
  • Jason Stadtlander

Social Media is Building a Culture of Public Judgement
Social Media is Building a Culture of Public Judgement 2000 1125 Jason Stadtlander

Social media allows us to have the world at our finger tips, news, and information on everything around us including family, politics and natural disasters.

Instant news and instant response is a two edge sword we now live with on a daily, hourly and sometimes minute by minute basis. Not only are we given a chance to instantly (and hopefully relatively unobtrusively) contact someone, but we also tend to feel the need to instantly respond to them in turn. When an event happens, we know about it within minutes, sometimes we know about it in real time.

For example, take the Brett Kavanaugh hearings regarding the sexual allegations toward Christine Blasey Ford. Kavanaugh, who was on the shortlist of nominees for the Supreme Court faced accusations that he sexually assaulted Ford. Within minutes of the story being leaked to the press, it began spreading on Twitter and Facebook. Granted the tumultuous relations between Republicans and Democrats and further fueled by many people’s contempt of President Trump (who nominated Kavanaugh) created a strong burning fire. There is no doubt that this was leaked as a political maneuver.

Immediately as the hearings were going on, minute by minute public judgments were being made and altered before the entire world stage. Even the U.S. president was injecting his opinions before the world on Twitter (without filters).

Do I see a benefit in this? Yes and no. As I said, it’s a two-edged sword. From a fellow U.S. citizen who has very little ability to control any of these situations, it’s nice to be able to see what’s going on while it’s going on, rather than find out after it’s already affecting me. This instantaneousness method of communication allows us as a world citizen to at least feel like we are part of the decision-making process (even if we are not). On the flip side, we can also garner enough people together to indeed make a voice about an issue (take the #metoo movement for example).

Now, on the other side of the sword, social media may impede the ability for jobs to get done because the people making the choices are no longer leading as much as waiting to hear what the consensus is among the people.

Court of Public OpinionMy personal opinion? I don’t like it. It opens up anyone to summary public ridicule and judgments without accurate presentation of evidence. Am I saying that Kavanaugh wasn’t guilty or that Ford didn’t experience what she experienced? No. What I’m saying is that I don’t think it should have been put out there for anyone other than those who can make decisions regarding it. Primarily because it was of a sensitive nature (to all parties) and loops in families with children, spouses, etc.

I think we are too rapidly moving toward a ‘public judgment’ without trial culture with the use of social media.

Living in the Past & Resisting Change
  • Jason Stadtlander

Living in the Past & Resisting Change
Living in the Past & Resisting Change 1920 1080 Jason Stadtlander

I feel stressed and I retract my thoughts to a specific memory in my childhood;

I am seven years old, sitting in my father’s green 1970 Chevy pickup on the grey bench seat, more specifically it’s a grey seat cover that covers the original green seat. The aroma of the hot chocolate I’m holding in my gloved hands is strong. Dad had ordered it for me as I was finishing my breakfast at the Howard Johnson’s restaurant in Wooster we visited on the way to the job site. It was our regular ritual for us, having breakfast at Howard Johnson’s during our weekend drives from our home in Canal Fulton to the farm in Loudonville.

The grey floorboard has some scattered dirt and dust on it and it’s lightly raining outside. The old windshield wipers are slowly swishing back and forth, “I love a rainy night” by Eddie Rabbitt is playing on the AM radio and I can feel the warm heat blowing on my feet. I’m wearing a red hooded high-school sweatshirt with a faded eagle on it that my father used to wear his senior year of high school, jeans and a pair of over-sized work gloves ready to help my dad do some landscaping. I’m waiting on him to come back to the truck as he’s talking to the customer. I get bored and lean over to change the dial on the radio, sweeping the little red needle back and forth. I move it down to the 500 kHz range and I hear the dot-dash beeping of Morse code. I have no idea what they are spelling out, but it intrigues me.

My dad then gets into the truck and stops, looks at the radio and then at me. “What is it, dad?” I ask, referring to the beeping on the radio.

“Aliens,” he replies back matter-of-factly. My eyes grew wide.

“I’m kidding. It’s just someone sending a message by Morse code. Probably a HAM radio operator nearby.”

It’s just a memory, one of many from my childhood that brings me peace. A memory of a simpler time (for me) when money, responsibilities, and life didn’t stress me out. There was no internet, no cell phones and no need for anyone to get anything instantly.

It’s not exactly a news flash that our world feels like it is moving and changing faster than ever in recorded history. The reality is of course that it is changing at pretty much the same speed it has for the last hundred and twenty to hundred and forty years.

A little over a hundred years ago, adults (fifty and over) at the time were grappling to understand why on earth anyone would want to get from place to place so fast using a mechanical vehicle when for thousands of years horses and carriages had served just fine. Seventy years ago adults in the same age bracket were resisting the change of getting a television when a radio worked just fine for the family.

Today it befuddles many adults why technology is changing so often and why they are constantly being forced to learn the new innovative technologies. Many of the changes are beneficial, making life easier. Although the constant need to adapt to newer hardware or applications roughly every five years may not be difficult for someone in their twenties and thirties, by the time a person reaches their fifties and beyond, the ability to learn these new innovations becomes profoundly difficult.

It’s only natural to want to return to the simplicity of your youth and fifty years from now, no doubt our children will want to return to the simplicity of a hand-held mobile phone and being able to text one another to keep in touch.

It is this stress of needing to constantly change that forces many of us to reminisce about those times that were perceptively easier in our own lives. But is it healthy to do so? Retreating to those memories is a stress reliever for most people, including myself. There is, however, a difference between thinking about the past and living in it. The past is familiar, we know what happened and we know what the outcomes are of how the past played out. However, pick a memory, at that exact moment in the past your life was changing. You didn’t know what to expect or where your world would go. It stands to reason that at that moment – you thought about your past beyond then to cope with stress.

We as a civilization move on. The world moves forward and we have no choice but to move along with the flow. We may be able to divert the waters of change here and there, but ultimately there is nothing we can do to stop the fact that it changes. We will never “make things great again” and most likely things were not as ‘great’ as we remember them. The truth is, fifty years from now you will look back and remember how great things were in this time. So, as I continue to tell myself every day – enjoy your memories and hold on to them, but embrace the change of the future and work to make a difference in controlling how that change plays out.

Daddy is Moving Out
  • Jason Stadtlander

Daddy is Moving Out
Daddy is Moving Out 2560 1171 Jason Stadtlander

I have been divorced now for three years and it’s been over four years since I moved out of the townhouse that was ‘home’ for over a decade. The place that my (now ex) wife and I came home to after our wedding and the place that I brought my children back from the hospital to. It’s been four years and only now can I begin to really talk about the impact that it all had on me at the time.

My marriage had been falling apart for years before I moved out and I even tried to move out in 2009, but seeing the shattered look on my three year old and four year old’s face and the thought that they might believe I was leaving them, stayed my hand on the decision – especially given the fact I would be leaving them alone with their mother for long periods of time, something I could not do, given the treatment I had seen and experienced first hand from her. I knew I had to wait until they were old enough to be able to speak up about things they might see or hear.

The reality is, there is never a good time to leave. I waited until 2014 to make my decision to move out and made my first bad decision a few weeks after I moved out. Having been deprived of a healthy relationship for years, I was eager to show my boys what a healthy relationship was and began dating someone shortly after I moved out. Within a couple weeks I realized the mistake I was making and that I was allowing myself to put my own needs above theirs, so I concentrated hard on their well being. Trying to make my new home – an apartment less than a mile away – the best home I could make it. They loved being there, it was quiet, clean and there was no fighting. It was extremely hard for me though, as I spent the majority of my time alone and without them, after having been with them every day. After having been the one to make all their breakfasts every morning and pack all their lunches. Being the one to always drop them off at school since they were toddlers. I felt as if my heart had been ripped from my chest and many nights I lay alone in my bed, staring at the ceiling, tears in my eyes, yearning to hear a voice call me in the middle of the night “Dadda? I can’t sleep.”

My friends all told me it would get easier as time went on. I’d like to say that’s true, but it’s not. It’s a crock of shit. It never gets easier not being with your children. Parents aren’t meant to be away from their children. What kind of lasting impact can you have on a child that you don’t spend every day with?

But, time went on. I moved from the apartment to the lower level of a two family home and finally purchased the home that they have known as their first ‘real house’, not attached to anyone else’s house. Moving into this house, my girlfriend I had now been dating for a couple years moved in along with her two children from a previous marriage. Another bad choice. My children got along fine with hers but there was a monster lurking and I had no idea I had moved it into my home. The woman that had moved in was a closet alcoholic and within a couple months I realized how bad the situation was. She frequently drove home, picking up ‘nips’ (small bottles of spirits) on her way home, drinking them to ‘take off the edge’ of coming back to a house full of kids. By the time I asked her to leave a year later, she was drinking a fifth of fireball a night and the police were called frequently. I was becoming someone I never thought I could become. I had gone from being a very patient man, caring, loving – to  a man who was always angry and on edge, dreading evenings and praying that my children wouldn’t see the pain I was in or experience it themselves.

Children however are not blind and they see much more than we think. My youngest was elated when I asked the woman to leave. My oldest was relieved but he is very reserved and didn’t speak of it much, instead he twisted things in his head – he was trying to grapple with the divorce, the anger his own mother was apparently [inappropriately] confiding in him about and the stress of the alcoholic that had lived in our home. The environment had been toxic to all three of us and it would take another year before things began to feel normal again.

It was only recently, looking back through photos of the boys and I that I can truly see the pain and torment in our eyes that we were going through. It’s clear that there were constant attempts at happiness, traveling to back home to Ohio, going to water parks, going on long trips. However, one can see that there was always a dark cloud hanging over us throughout those years. I as a father, was uncertain what I could do to ease my children’s pain of the divorce and my tumultuous relationship because I was the one trapped within it all. It was like trying to protect someone from a tornado by wrapping yourself around them, just to find that both of you have been lifted up and carried away by the tornado. Now that the dust is settling, I’m slowly reestablishing the relationships I have with my children. They say that they don’t remember anything before I moved out, which I partially chock up to the trauma of it all. All I can do is keep moving forward and be the best father, the best man, that I can be.

Father and Son
  • Jason Stadtlander

PFP (Sonnet) The Benevolent Son
PFP (Sonnet) The Benevolent Son 1024 681 Jason Stadtlander

“The Benevolent Son”

Tho new upon this world you came in love
You showed me that the white clouds were parted
As new breath came in your lungs it started
If touched by you, a person holds the dove

You show us truth and ways to see above
Kindly, your conduct incites bighearted
Showing those around you, love restarted
Bereft of anger, your soft words speak of

As a youth, you guided with your actions
Showing me how to give to those in need
Stating “Daddy, give her a dollar please?”
I was surprised by your benefactions 
Proud to call you my son, through each good deed
United, father and son, friends in ease

About This Poetry Form

Name: Sonnet (Italian)
Description: A Sonnet is a poem of an expressive thought or idea made up of 14 lines, each being 10 syllables long. Its rhymes are arranged according to one of the schemes – Italian, where eight lines called an octave consisting of two quatrains which normally open the poem as the question are followed by six lines called a “sestet” that are the answer, or the more common English which is three quatrains followed by a rhyming couplet.

This particular poem is about my youngest son and is an Italian Sonnet which follows the form abbaabbacdecde (each letter representing a line). Each of the corresponding lines will rhyme with the last word with each line being 10 syllables long.

About This Series

Read more about this series here.

Jason
  • Jason Stadtlander

PFP (Acrostic) First Moments of Fatherhood
PFP (Acrostic) First Moments of Fatherhood 1536 2048 Jason Stadtlander

“First Moments of Fatherhood”

In the hallowed warmth of blankets he lays swaddled,
Warm and still in the first moments of life.
Bundled in blue and white wrappings,
Can such a beautiful thing be possible?
I am at a loss for words, I am mesmerized,
I gaze at the wonder of this human in my arms.
Gentle dawn of life, this singular soul I have helped create.
I feel alterity, isolated in an unbreachable moment of time, I hold my boy.
As his small eyes flutter behind new eyelids, he dreams of what?
My son and I are solitary in this moment,
Held in a point I want to cradle forever.
I feel and I am devoid of thought, for in this moment
I do not remember the past or care about the future.
Surpassing intrigue, time itself slows, as I hold my son for the first time.

About This Poetry Form

Name: Acrostic Poetry
Description: An acrostic poem is a type of poetry where the first, last or other letters in a line spell out a particular word or phrase. The most common and simple form of an acrostic poem is where the first letters of each line spell out the word or phrase. In this particular poem you will find who I am devoting this poem to by incrementing a letter on each line from the beginning going down.

About This Series

Read more about this series here.

 

 
  • Jason Stadtlander

Missing Child – A Parent’s Worst Nightmare
Missing Child – A Parent’s Worst Nightmare 1024 576 Jason Stadtlander

The Fear

It was September 19th in Carver, Massachusetts. The air had that cool damp feeling and the smell of autumn was strong as the colored leaves blew at our feet. My oldest son was dressed in his ninja costume and I was dressed in my Scottish warrior getup – kilt included, both in the spirit of the renaissance festival we were going to at King Richard’s Faire. My youngest son chose not to dress up as he though it drew attention to him. Little did he know that not dressing up drew more attention than dressing up. However, my sweet boy had been through enough over the last year with my divorce and the stresses of my moving out, so I wasn’t about to press him to ‘get into the spirit’. I just wanted us to have a good time.

We spent a few hours going from vendor to vendor and watching the amazing acts of the magician, the tiger trainers and the jousting all the while munching kettle corn and cotton candy as we walked. At one point we stopped so that my boys could get onto a swing ride operated by a couple medieval carnies hand cranking the contraption that accommodated about fifteen children. I took photos as the boys swung around in circles rotating in their chairs. Then they got off and stepped around the side of the fence to me. My oldest saw a cross bow game next to the swing that he wanted to show me and possibly play. So we walked over toward it. Out of the corner of my eye I was certain that my youngest was following. My oldest showed me how the pseudo arrows went into the chamber and at that point I glanced behind me to see what my youngest thought of it. The eight year old was no where in sight and I was instantly jolted to high alert. “Where’s your brother?” I asked. He looked around and shrugged.

“I thought he was right here.” he replied.

I looked at the swing ride which was less than fifteen feet from me and couldn’t see him anywhere. I then yelled for him. No answer. I had lost my son. My heart was racing as I told my oldest to stand by the crossbow stand and not move at all. I then began a spiral style sweep of the area widening as I went through the tree covered clearing. I couldn’t see him anywhere and I was fighting the desire to panic. I began yelling as loud as I could for him and fellow parents looked at me with concerned expressions, knowing the pain I was going through. Two other faire goers joined me in the search and I began to look at the perimeters.

I stopped a faire worker and notified them and just as they were radioing to the have the gates closed so no one could leave or come in my mobile phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number but picked up to hear my son crying in the phone. “Daddy? Where are you? I can’t find you.”

He had followed someone wearing a similar shirt to mine near the swing ride and hadn’t looked carefully to make sure it was actually me, until it was too late. Fortunately he had only gone as far as the archery game which was about two hundred feet away, but it was far enough that he couldn’t see me anywhere. If I had not been so careful to ensure that my children always knew my mobile phone number, the situation could have been a lot worse than it turned out.

Missing ChildTips to Prevent Losing Your Child

  • Put one of your business cards  in their pocket, preferably with a mobile phone number on it.
  • Force your children to memorize your mobile phone number.
  • If you are in a public setting (such as a fair, store or movie theater) contact a management member immediately, most locations have protocols in place to close the entrances so that no one can escape with a child and scenarios setup to help parents find their child.
  • When you know you will be in a crowded place, have your children wear bright colors so you can quickly identify them from a distance.
  • If your children are very young, take a small length of rope and have them always hold onto the rope.
  • Jason Stadtlander

Huffington Post: Guns and Children — Don’t Be Ignorant
Huffington Post: Guns and Children — Don’t Be Ignorant 150 150 Jason Stadtlander

Guns and Children -- Don't Be Ignorant

I am a father to young children and also an educator of parents with a teaching focus of protecting children online. My compassion for children runs deep and having been raised around guns and being taught the dangers of guns at a young age, I believe that it’s critical to educate children on gun safety.

Gun ownership is not just a right under the Constitution, it is also a responsibility. It’s our charge to ensure that those who own guns are taught not only the safety necessary to protect themselves, but also the knowledge of how to make certain children understand the realities and dangers of guns.

It is our responsibility as parents to create and follow guidelines that will teach our children and make a safer world for them to live in. Ultimately it is we the parents that are responsible for our children, not our government.

Read more at: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jason-p-stadtlander/guns-and-children-dont-be_b_5923268.html 
  • Jason Stadtlander

Tiny Treasures, Red Leaves and Lucky Pennies
Tiny Treasures, Red Leaves and Lucky Pennies 2560 1440 Jason Stadtlander

Arriving at my children’s school, I get out of my car and my children follow suit, grab their backpacks and we walk toward the door. Along the way my youngest sees a few autumn leaves on the ground, despite the fact that it’s only one day after labor day.

He reaches down and finds the two most red, beautiful leaves and hands one to me. This is a very common practice with him. I smile at him and he trots off toward the door, holding my cell phone that he is talking to his grandfather 800 miles away on. Another common practice, our morning call to my father and something that brings a smile to their face and gets my father’s day off to a wonderful start.

We go into the school and I check them in for early drop-off, give them each a hug and as I’m leaving, my son walks over and hands me his red leaf.

“Why did you give that to me? You already gave me the other red leaf.” I say

To which he replies, “Two red leaves are better than one.” and he runs over to the Lego bin.

I suppose one can’t argue with that logic. So, I take my extra leaf and go to the car, sit down and place the two red leaves next to the four other leaves he’s given me over the past few weeks and the three lucky pennies he has given me. I take a moment to examine them. All six leaves and three pennies, one of which is a hay penny. My other son doesn’t tend to find ‘trash to treasure gifts’, he usually colors me creative pictures or makes me a sculpture, but these bits from either boy are more valuable than all the money in the world. Little treasures for a child, big treasures for a parent (at least this parent).

As an adult we spend day in and day out, seeking the dollar, chasing the sun and trying find that perfect peace, that perfect moment. As a parent, I find those perfect peaceful times and perfect moments are all around me, mind you not as often as I’d like, but they are there. Even as I sit here at my desk writing this article, I see 8 photographs of my children and at least 7 pieces of artwork, sculptures, sock snowmen, rock men and pine cone people all around me. Hidden where no one can see, I keep my old leaves from years past and my lucky pennies. My “tiny treasures”.

Strangely, these items mean something to me and I’m sure my father and mother kept the same sort of things and their parents before them. I will admit to having held on to a tiny treasure or two, beyond their, um… expiration date. A berry that rotted, a walnut that may have had something in it that it shouldn’t have. It doesn’t change the fact however, that they were my tiny treasures.

What happens when these people who have these objects are no longer around? The objects get put back into world circulation, are thrown away into a landfill or are sold for some derived value.

What is interesting though, is that all of us are a part of these treasures, we are all connected to them. That penny in your pocket, very well may have been the lucky penny that a child gave to their mother. The same penny that ended up sitting on her dresser for years for no other reason than because her daughter gave it to her.

It is these tiny treasures, these small, seemingly insignificant items that make our daily treks all worthwhile.

What are your tiny treasures?

  • Jason Stadtlander

Where the Wild Things Are – Punishing Children (and keeping your sanity)
Where the Wild Things Are – Punishing Children (and keeping your sanity) 150 150 Jason Stadtlander

Boy having temper tantrumMy son runs to me in a sing-songy voice screaming “Daaad, he just hit my eye with the baaaaallll!”, clearly not injured. To which I look at him and casually say “Really?” and he runs off back to play with his brother.

A few minutes later things escalate and one boy hits the other or takes something away or [fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][fill in the blank].

At some point, as a parent you reach a breaking point, where the desire to grab both of their heads by the hair and slam them together becomes overwhelming and you know you need to step away. It can be even more stressful when you’re the only parent around and you are trying to take care of chores around the house that you would much rather assign to your children.

I will admit to having moments when I’d rather just let them battle it out. Hell, my siblings and I did. Many a cut, scrape or bloody nose I can attribute to my little sister and little brother. That’s just all part of being kids. Do I love them any less or regret our fights? No. They have made us stronger and who we are.

(Here come the five famous words) When I was a kid, if I didn’t watch my mouth, obey my parents or if I was (caught) beating on my brother or sister, I got a hand to the backside. That’s right, a spanking. I know, crazy huh? Even more crazy is my father was never thrown in jail for child abuse and my mother never served a day in court due to taking a brush to my behind (I guess her hand hurt to spank?).

Girl having temper tantrumAm I less a person for being spanked or being handled more physically? No, absolutely not. Did my parents ever abuse me? No, absolutely not.

Now being a parent myself, there are times that it pains me that I cannot (in today’s society) spank my children. To date, I have never given my children a spanking, but there have most definitely been times they deserved it. Not many, my kids are overall very good children, but everyone has moments that they are out of control.

I am not saying that you should be able to go out and beat your child. Beating and spanking are FAR different.

Part of the problems with today’s society is:

  • You have a group of people governing laws and methodologies that don’t even have children themselves. What gives them the right to say what is a proper way to parent or what is not?
  • People expect you to “reason” with children. And yes, when they are over the age of 7 or 8, you absolutely can most of the time reason with them. Then again, there are some 14-17 year olds who you can’t reason with at all. But you can’t be expected to have an adult conversation with a four year old who is throwing a temper tantrum, I’m sorry it’s stupid, plain and simple.

That being said, what do you do when the “Wild Thing” comes out in your child? Well, there are several well accepted and proven ways that I have found to control children:

  1. Time outs – they work wonders, especially when forced to sit on a time-out chair or time-out step.
  2. Standing in a corner – Nose to the wall, unable to move and must stand still until you are told you can get off. If the child steps away, then tell them they just earned another minute. (And keep a real timer going starting around 2-5 minutes) Yes, they will whine and cry and maybe even wipe their nose on the wall, but that’s life.
  3. Take away privileges – Grounding. Very good, but you MUST hold to your guns. If you say they can’t touch iPad for a week. Then do it, don’t cave in! Now, after the grounding has had some time to think in, there is nothing wrong with “earning” back the privilege by reading, doing chores, etc. It both gives them the ability to get their privileges back and it helps them gain responsibility.
  4. Ignore them – This is really only effective in 2-5 year olds. If they are screaming that they want your attention, turn away. You can turn back long enough to tell them that you will talk to them when they can talk to you like a big boy /girl.

My biggest piece of advice as a parent: No matter what your relationship is with your child’s other parent (Married, Divorced, etc.), Never ever contradict their punishment (as long as it is adequate). It not only disrespects and undermines them as a parent, it shows the child that they can control one of you.

What are some methods you’ve found that fit today’s day and age?[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

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