It was Sunday morning. I was 7 years old. Nothing was happening in my house. I mean nothing! Church did not hold any charm for me despite the prevalence of rituals and devices of divination. Yet, at least I could stare at the woman with the fox heads trying to eat each other around her neck and strategize ways to touch them without being discovered. My parents expected me to remain dressed up for Sunday. In fact, it was a day filled with expectations. I hated Sundays.
But once a month, the Sunday routine was broken by a visit to my grandparents. It could be that they lived in the city; it could be the four flights of stairs shrouded in darkness that convincingly resembled spooky spaces housing dead peoples' spirits; it could be the smells of pink applesauce cooking on a converted coal stove in the narrow, linoleum-clad kitchen. But I suspect it was more the look in my grandmother's eyes when I walked through the door. I knew that there was nothing that I could ever do that would dilute the idolatry I received. Furthermore, when I saw that look, there was no doubt in my mind that I completely deserved the idolatry.
My grandfather was a plain man, having grown up as a farmhand. His world knew no glamour and as I began to experiment with the adornment that only a twelve-year old could aspire to, he was mesmerized by blue eye shadows, colorful streaks in my hair, glitter on my cheeks, and flashy jewelry. In his eyes, I was Esmeralda dancing in the admiration of a hundred adoring fans. When around him, there was no doubt in my mind that I was utterly beautiful.
* * *
A package arrived with instructions not to open until I called my son, hundreds of miles away in Kansas City.
"Kevin?! I received the package."
"Wait, let me get Jamie to the phone."
My mind raced with a little concern. Jamie had just begun medical school. Kevin had just begun a new position. Are they buying a house? Do they need help? Is one of them sick?
"Ok, Mom, open the box." Said Jamie.
As I unfolded the paper lining in the box, I saw a bib clearly marked "Grandma."
The bib transported me back to the loving embrace of my own grandparents but when I thought about not being able to see the baby every month or week or day, I was disheartened. How could I give that child the experience I had when I lived so far away?
I still do not live closer to my grandchildren, yet, with effort, I tried to replicate the grandparent relationship that I enjoyed. How? I tried to send regular packages, letters, or pictures to them and made regular phone calls. However, there were many times that I would buy something, intending to mail it, and it sat on my kitchen counter for weeks until I got around to shipping it. I was not able to make a strong enough connection with such irregularity and twice a year visits.
Oh yes, one more thing. I am a professor and train psychologists. I know what it takes to build a close connection with a child. Psychologists call it attachment, which is another name for connection. Attachments are formed within the first two years of life and are the result of consistent nurturing contact. The more a child experiences that connection, the tighter the bond. The more a child feels he or she can depend on the person to act in the same nurturing way, the more the child builds trust. The more the child trusts other people, the more confident he or she feels about herself/himself.
However, do not assume that the child develops strong connection and sense of self merely as a recipient of love. The child must also learn that he or she can, in turn, affect the relationship. The child must learn that his or her response to the love matters. In this way, the child learns self-esteem and self-efficacy in that the things he or she actually does, builds the connection as well. This is relational reciprocity.
Putting the distant grandparent dilemma into the context of attachment, for such a connection to occur, it would take the following: a) regular consistent happy experiences that can be anticipated without disappointment, b) a way for the child to associate the happy experience with a particular person, and c) a required response from the child. In order for the experience to be happy, it must be relevant, i.e. developmentally appropriate and important to the child.
Dr. Suni Petersen is a family therapist, professor of psychology, and president of Toy Connex. Toy Connex is an on-line retail store and a toy-of-the-month subscription service that accomplishes the requirements for building strong bonds with a young child. The grandparent (or parent) completes a play profile so that a developmentally, educationally appropriate toy is sent to the child at the same time each month. Along with the gift, the child receives a photograph and message from the subscriber, and a thank you card on which to draw, then mail in the already-addressed and stamped envelope. http://www.toyconnex.com
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