Janet Gonzales-Mena on Quality Infant Toddler Care

The following quote is from Janet Gonzales-Mena’s book, Infants, Toddlers, and Caregivers: A Curriculum of Respectful and Responsive Care and Education.

Many psychotherapists attest to the benefits of being fully present to another person without being directive; yet most of us seldom get this kind of attention from the people in our lives. Think for a moment of the delight of having someone’s whole attention at your command for more than a moment or so.

            This kind of quality time is easy to give, but often not understood or valued. Caregivers just sitting on the floor where babies and toddlers are playing sometimes feel as though they are not doing their job. They want to play the role of teachers, which they interpret as “teaching something.” It is very hard for some adults to be around small children and not be directive. Being receptive and responsive is a skill most adults need to learn; it doesn’t seem to just come naturally. Try it yourself. Choose a time when you will not initiate, only respond. See how long you can keep in the receptive, responsive mode.

My Childhood Web: Grandma and Grandpa Domas and Grandma Clinton

Grandma and Grandpa Domas and Grandma Clinton

                When I was a young child, I was lucky enough to have both of my grandparents living within walking distance from me. There was a set of steps that when over the corner of the yard fence to my Grandma Clinton’s house, and a few houses down from my Grandma Clinton’s house was where Grandma and Grandpa Domas lived. Both of my Grandmas were very cozy, not very stern people. My Grandpa was less cozy, but I remember, when I was older and did not live so close to any of my grandparents, walking to daily Mass with my grandpa when I would visit for a week and having pleasant conversations about what we were reading. At the time, I was reading a lot about biology.

                I remember once finding out from another student that not all grandparents were as cuddly as mine. My image of all grandparents was that they were all the nicest people in the world. I didn’t know how lucky I was. Because my grandparents were so nice, they all got along, and when my grandma and grandpa Domas were too sick to take care of themselves, my Grandma Clinton lived with them and took care of them. My Grandma Domas had been a teacher. My Grandpa Domas was a painter and carpenter, and my Grandma Clinton was a nanny for judges and doctors who went to the church where my parents met. My mom had four Domas siblings and my dad had eight Clinton brothers that my grandma spent many years raising herself after her husband died.

                Later, we moved away from my grandparents, so every summer we had the opportunity to stay with my grandparents for a week. When I went to Grandma Domas’s, I learned how to crochet from her and watched game shows and did crossword puzzles with her. She was also a good cook, and we got to go grocery shopping with her after creating the week’s menu. One of her favorite sayings was “lep it go.” This meant when something makes you angry, move on and don’t keep being mad. When I went to Grandma Clinton’s house, I remember going to Mass with her, playing the guitar and singing for her, and playing cards with her and her friends. Although we lived in California, Grandma Clinton and her friends had raised their children in Philadelphia and both my Grandma and Grandpa Clinton had come from Ireland before they were married. My grandma and her friends used to tell stories about their time in Philadelphia, and my Grandma Clinton used to tell stories about her youth in Ireland. My time with all my Grandparents was special because I either went by myself or with one other sibling. I got a lot more concentrated attention when I was with my grandparents. My time with my Grandparents was never about what I would do with my life. It was like being in the eternal present with all that mattered being what we were doing at the moment.

My Childhood Web: Marge

Marge is another sister that was important to me growing up. I remember once, when I was about 5, my mom made summer outfits for Marge and me. I wanted mine to be exactly like Marge’s so we would look like twins. Marge didn’t like this at all because she was older than me and she was very sensitive about how short she was. When Marge was an adult, she was 4’8” full grown. Throughout our years growing up, I just didn’t seem to be able to keep myself from irritating Marge. I wasn’t a very clean or organized person. One time, there were pillows on the floor and while I was likely thinking about something else, I stepped on the pillows and kept on walking. It made Marge so mad, just like many mothers would also be mad, that I wouldn’t just pick up the pillows.

The years went on and I had a vague notion that Marge didn’t like me but didn’t really know why. Then on March 11, 1982, I was hit by a Winnebago and spent two months on a respirator for two collapsed lungs. When I was in the hospital, I was surprised to find out who visited me and who did not. For example, my best friend, I found out later, did not visit me because she was angry at me for being in an accident. My brother, Joe, fainted the first day and never came to see me, and a male acquaintance from my church youth group came frequently and shared music and comedy recordings with me. Marge was also a frequent visitor. When I could talk, as opposed to all the writing I did while in the hospital, I asked Marge why she came so much. At this time, or perhaps a little later, I found out that Marge didn’t like me because I seemed to be happy all the time even when she would be upset. For example, in high school, I was overweight and that would have made her upset. In high school, I also did not get along so well with my parents and that would have also bothered her.

When I was hurt on March 11, Marge prayed that I would live. I think she may have been thinking that it would not make her happy for a happy person to die while a person who was always worried or upset about something like herself would live.  I did end up living and after that we had a better relationship. Marge always had wanted to get married and have a big family just like my mom, and she was always worried about meeting nice boys despite her height. I, on the other hand was planning, even after my accident, to be a famous singer and travel around the world. The last time I talked to Marge, I told her that I would be getting married. I was nervous that she would be jealous, but she was very happy. Marge was in the hospital at the time for colon problems. Another weekend, I came to see my family and Marge was in the hospital again to have her iliostomy bag removed. I had planned to see Marge on my way home, and I suddenly realized on my way home that I was passing the hospital. I decided not to turn back. It turned out that Marge forgot to take out a tampon while she was in the hospital and got toxic shock syndrome. Marge died on March 11, 1984. It turned out that I got the life that Marge had been looking for. I had the big family. I wonder what Marge is thinking now.

My Personal Childhood Web: Marianne

Marianne was my oldest sister. Because she was eventually the oldest of 12 children, she was like an adult from a young age. I was the sixth child with two older sisters. Marianne is special because she taught me many things. In the summer between my kindergarten and first grade school years, she taught me to read. That summer, our family was given many old reading texts from our school, so she used them to teach me to read. When I was seven, Marianne taught me to play the piano. I am very grateful for this because learning to read music from a young age made music like a second language to me. Marianne, who is now a doctor and the administrator of a health clinic in Sonoma, California, was also always a great example. She worked hard in school and cared about the poor from a young age. I remember when she was about 12, she volunteered at a Head Start. Now at age 50, I am finally working at Head Start like Marianne did when she was 12. We were all excited when we found out that her Head Start would be on Romper Room, a preschool show that was showing in about 1967.

One of my favorite memories of Marianne was when she came to play guitar and sing for me at the hospital after I had been in an accident. When I was 19, I was riding my bicycle when I was hit by a Winnebago and both my lungs collapsed. I was on a respirator for two months and couldn't talk because of my tracheotomy. On Easter, Marianne came home for a visit from where she was being a resident. She put on a show, singing and playing the guitar, since I couldn't do it myself.

Personal Childhood Web: Dad

I remember both my mom and dad being supportive of all of us children no matter what. One favorite family story is related to my brother, John. John was born in November, and we lived in California where the cut-off for each grade was at the end of November, so John went to kindergarten when he was four until he turned five in November. When John was in fourth grade, he received many Ds on his final yearly report card. My parents, who knew he was doing his best, enthusiastically told John how well he had done. Before John was in fifth grade, our family had moved to a new city and a new school. In that new school, John suddenly became very smart. By the time John reached eighth grade, he was a leader in his school and he won the academic scholarship when he graduated from eighth grade. Today, John is a computer genius, who is the one who takes care of my mom and takes care of many of her bills.

My dad was also very supportive of me. As a child growing up in a family of twelve, I often felt like I blended in and like since my mom and dad would love me no matter what, I wasn’t sure what made me special. When I was 9, I received my brother’s old guitar for Christmas and his old guitar book to use to teach myself guitar. I taught myself guitar until I was eleven. This was made easier by the fact that my sister had taught me to read music and play simple piano when I was seven. When I was 11, I played a song I enjoyed for my dad. He was very impressed. This was the first time I felt that I stood out among my siblings. A little later, my mom asked me if I wanted to take guitar lessons.

In the summer when I was about 11 years old, I took care of my brother with psychological problems and at least one other sibling for six hours a day, Monday through Friday. I received 10 dollars a week. At the end of the summer, on September first, it was my birthday. I remember going with my dad to GEMCO, a store like Super Walmart, to get my birthday gift while my mom did grocery shopping. I was planning to get a chromatic harmonica. I was very surprised that not only did I get the harmonica, but I also received a case for it and a recorder to add to my collection of musical instruments. This may have been my dad’s way of showing his support for my ability with children and my perseverance with my summer job.

My dad also encouraged us to have an opinion and to defend our opinions. I remember once in fifth grade when my dad told me that the teacher had called him because of something I had done. A teacher had called to complain that I had told another student that I thought the math project she was having some of us work on was stupid because it wasn’t teaching us anything new. The teacher had given us what amounted to busy work to do outside, while she taught math to the majority of students who needed a review. I was surprised that I was in trouble for saying what I thought. My dad explained that in some cultures, like the one of the Hispanic nuns that ran our school, it is not right for children to express a differing opinion to adults.

Personal Childhood Web: Mom

     My mother is one person in my personal childhood web. My mom was a very accepting open minded person who was like a gracious servant to her 12 children. Our family said the rosary every night. I remember kneeling next to my mom when I was five and feeling very satisfied when I knew all the prayers. Today, my mom is like a saint that we all go to to ask her to pray for our many worries or desires. She has a really bad memory now, but I can still make her laugh. I remember walking everywhere with her as a child because she was afraid to drive. We walked to daily mass, to the grocery store when my dad was sailing around the world on oil tankers, and to the bus stop. I remember my mom listening to me talk on these walks and sometimes getting tired of my incessant talking about things that I found so important just as you may be getting tired of reading my long posts.

Owen

         Owen by Kevin Henkes (1993) is one of my favorite children's books. All of Henkes stories are very enjoyable. The parents portrayed in his stories are model parents. The problems the characters deal with are common. Although none of my own children had a blankie or a transitional object, I can empathize with Owen's parents who seem to be worried that Owen will be determined to take his blanket to school. His parents try many things to relieve Owen of his blankie including at least one suggestion from a nosy neighbor. Finally, Owen's parents find a practical solution that deals with the actual problem that Owen can't bring a dirty blanket, that someone might trip on, to school. Kevin's blanket is made into clean handkerchiefs.

A Quote

"Sensitive and responsive parent-child relationships also are associated with stronger cognitive skills in young children and enhanced social competence and work skills later in school, which illustrates the connection between social/emotional development and intellectual growth."

This was written by
National Scientific Council on the Developing Child. (2004) in a paper called "Young Children Develop in an Environment of Relationships. Working Paper No. 1." It can be retrieved it from http://www.developingchild.net

This is a picture of me and my nine year old daughter when she was 5. I am not sure whether or not this picture was posted as a comment the last time I posted this picture. I am open to ideas from others as to how I can dress up my blog.

This is me and my nine year old when she was 5. I am not sure if this is where I put a picture, but maybe someone can help me find a better place.

Welcome

            Welcome to everyone who visits this blog. The purpose of this blog is to share our experiences and knowledge of young children.