She was five--"a whole hand"--and just starting kindergarten when I began this blog. Our Katie Bug's become a beautiful butterfly as time flies by.
Kat brought home her first homework assignment. It's an essay for her English class, a "tell me everything you'd like me to know about your child" writing assignment for the parents.
When I was in eighth grade, I hated homework. This homework, I like. I enjoyed writing it so thoroughly, I decided to share it--with Kat's consent--on this blog:
Thank you for this opportunity to brag on my kid. Generally, I don’t wait for an invitation, as my Facebook friends, my co-workers, and random strangers trapped with me inside an elevator can attest.
Kat is one of my favorite people.
My husband, Will, would say, “ditto” and pretty much leave it at that. Brevity is his jam, not mine. I’m a total overachiever when it comes to writing about our daughter.
Just know that Kat’s parental love is not lopsided because Will and I have different communication styles. Kat is one of his favorite people, too.
I expect—and hope—you receive similar statements from other students’ parents. I firmly believe that all kids are special and gifted in their own unique ways. Please understand that when I gush over Kat it does not mean I think she is better than any other student in your classes. I’m my own daughter’s cheerleader. I’ll let the other parents rally around their own kids.
When Kat was three, we had another married couple over to our house. They brought with them their six-year-old daughter, Lilly. It was our first time meeting Lilly. At one point in the evening, Lilly broke something inconsequential and Lilly’s dad, our friend JJ, reprimanded her pretty harshly. Lilly balled up on the floor, shaking and sobbing.
Will and I froze. We didn’t know what to do. JJ was our friend. JJ is no longer our friend. JJ is the kind of guy who was fun to hang out with until he had kids. JJ is the kind of man who doesn’t remember what it feels like to be a child, the kind of man who thinks sparing rods makes spoiled children. JJ’s wife, Lilly’s mom, ascribed to the same line of thinking.
So there we were, the four of us grownups, just standing there, not knowing what to do while Lilly bawled. Lilly’s parents glared at her. Their faces looked like they were both about ready to give Lilly something to cry about. Will and I shoved our hands into our pockets, and bit our lips. Our eyes darted back and forth between Lilly and each other. I, personally, felt like throwing up.
Before I made a mess of things out of an already sticky situation, along comes little Katie Bug.
I should explain. Katherine is the name on her birth certificate. She’s named after my sister Kathryn, who goes by the nickname Kit, who in turn was named after our great-grandmother, Catherine, known as Kitty. We called our child Kate or Katie Bug before she decided she’s more of a Kat, although she still lets her Dad and me call her Katie Bug as long as her friends are not around.
So along comes our little Katie Bug, all of three years old. She ignores the grownups in the room, hyperfocusing on Lilly as she walks right up to her, crouches down, and wraps her arms around this weeping ball of six-year-old.
“Thewe, thewe, Lilly. It’s OK,” said Katie Bug. She held her and rocked her, as if she were the wisest old nanny in the world.
I don’t remember what happened to the other grownups. I think they all went into the kitchen to grab another beer. Later, when Will and I discussed the interaction we both agreed that the three-year-old in the room had more fierce compassion and moral standards than the adults in the room combined.
As I stood there, watching our kiddo cuddle this older kid she’d just met that night, doing the right thing when no one else seemed to know what to do, I knew this person was going to leave the world a better place than she found it.
This is the essence of Kat. She’s strong-willed, righteously indignant, and the most sensitive soul you’ll ever meet. Everyone struggles with strengths overdone, and in Kat’s case that means she’s sometimes rebellious, hot-tempered, and moody. But mostly, she’s a pretty great kid.
Kat has struggled in school over the years. She’s bright, and creative, and curious, but she gets bored easily and her classmates often annoy her. Once, when she was in second grade, she came home from school, threw her backpack on the couch and yelled, “I’m so sick of these second graders. They don’t know anything about empathy!”
“They’re seven,” I said. “They probably don’t even know what the word empathy means, let alone how to be empathetic. Give them time. They will learn. Everyone learns at their own pace. You’re just a 53-year-old trapped inside a 7-year-old’s body, like Dr. Bostwick says.”
Dr. Bostwick is the first child psychologist Kat began seeing. She’s the one who encouraged us to advocate for Kat’s needs at school. I’m old, so when I went to school you just had to buck up or change schools. There was no such thing as trauma-informed care, or gifted education, or homeschooling.
We don’t want to homeschool Kat because we firmly believe in the value of a quality public education system, and we want to support it as much as possible. We also, frankly, can’t afford to homeschool Kat since we are working class people and not independently wealthy. Plus, I don’t want her father and I to be Kat’s only teachers. We want her to experience life and learning from many points of view. We want her to learn how to exist in a diverse, challenging world.
On the other hand, Kat’s mental health is our primary concern. She began exhibiting signs of anxiety in first grade. She was diagnosed with precocious puberty—a genetic difference she inherited from my father and me—at age 7. She was diagnosed with clinical depression and anxiety by fourth grade. She was tested and accepted into the gifted program by fifth grade. By seventh grade, she was diagnosed with dysthymia, in addition to Major Depressive Disorder. Her current psychiatrist, Dr. Christopher Van Horn, has prescribed regular aerobic exercise, methylated folic acid, fluoxetine, and monthly cognitive behavioral therapy.
In addition to her genetic and hormonal issues, Kat’s home life has been particularly difficult. Here is a list of stressors our family has experienced in the last couple of years:
Will quit his job of eleven years when Amazon bought Whole Foods.
My 90-year-old father moved in with us for three months of hospice car. He passed away in February 2018.
My 80-year-old mother moved in with us for eight months of hospice care. She passed away in February of this year.
Will’s 65-year-old father was diagnosed with lung cancer in June of this year.
Will was the primary caregiver for my mom and dad, and now he is for his dad.
Our two-year-old puppy died unexpectedly this summer.
I am not only grieving my parents’ death, but I was diagnosed with clinical depression and anorexia at age 11, and PTSD in my late 30s. With meds, exercise, a fantastic job as a children’s librarian, tons of therapy and reading self-help books by Dr. Harriet Lerner, and especially the support of my amazing husband, I can function well most days. But long story short, it’s a bummer when your mom can’t get out of bed sometimes.
All this is to say, we greatly appreciate all you do for our family in general and our daughter specifically. It’s been a roller coaster, but we’re hanging on.
