This blog is really about my journey of therapy, and healing from child sexual abuse. But I’m not just a girl who goes to therapy, or is working things out with Hubby. I’m a mom, too. My daughter, Kat, is amazing. She’s 4. Just a few months before her third birthday, she was diagnosed with autism. We’ve had to fight to get insurance coverage, and then to get the services and providers we wanted for our child. It’s been messy, but also amazing. In a year, Kat has grown and changed so much. She’s learned so much, and so have I. But she’s still Kat, that essential, amazing, inner strength that she was born with is still present. She is a child who knows her own mind. She knows what she likes, and what she doesn’t. She’s also not afraid to use her voice, for herself or for others. I thought it might be nice to share a Kat story every once in awhile. And so, without further ado, I give you the story of Kat and the Lowes guy.
It’s a Saturday, after Kat’s session with Bea, and we decide to go out to lunch. She wants Panera, because she loves their soup. Never mind that it is August, and 90 degrees out. She wants chicken noodle soup.
“Honey, it’s very hot out. Maybe you would like a sandwich?” I’m trying to convince her that it’s too hot for soup.
“Mom. It’s hot out, so I eat hot soup. Then my insides and outsides can be the same hotness,” Kat explains. She’s serious. And well, who am I to argue with that perfect logic?
She orders soup. I order salad. And after we eat, I want to run to Lowes to buy panel board. The amazing thing about white panel board is that it’s cheap, and huge, and it works just like white board. So, for $20, you can have a giant white board cut to size. This is good news for any OCD moms out there. Even better if you have an autistic child and are in need of schedule boards, calendars, and who knows what else. My house is covered in white boards. It’s insane.
At Lowes, I can’t find anyone to help us. Kat and I load up the floppy, too heavy panel board ourselves. It’s falling off the cart, and I have to stop every few feet to put it back. Kat is struggling because the lights in the store hurt her ears. We pass two different people wearing Lowes uniforms, but they both refuse to help.
“Jerks.” Kat shakes her head. She’s mad.
We get to the cutting counter, and the panel board is cracked at the bottom. The guy doing the cutting starts to yell– and by yell, I really mean just lecture, talk not so kindly, be a little rough– at me because of this. I can’t take it anymore. I start to cry.
And that’s when it happens. Kat places her hands on her hips, walks over to the guy so she’s in his face. She stomps her little four year old foot, and shakes her finger in his face. “Stop being mean. You are making my mom cry. Just do your job. You don’t need to be an asshole!” She turns on heel tosses her head, and walks back to me. “I told him, Mom. He’ll be nice, now.”
Yeah. That’s my kid. She’s so strong, so sure of herself, that even at four, she will march up to an adult who is wrong and let them know all about it. I only pray she keeps this strength forever, that no one takes it from her.