A Trip to the District Psychologist

Apologies, apologies! It has been 5 days since my last post, forgive me father... or awesome people who read my blog. On Saturday we had our annual Halloween party and it was... well, IT WAS AWESOME! A post about that will come later but I thought that I would first update y'all on what happened yesterday because I'm the boss of this blog. And at home... And sometimes at Billa. Anyway...

A little background... When we moved into this apartment, we found out that just downstairs was an integration kindergarten. We found out that we had to meet with the district child psychologist so that we could qualify our son for a space. We met Dr. W. and BAM! a few months later (September 3rd to be exact) we had our first day at the kindergarten, just downstairs. As you have read over the past few weeks, it has been a bit of a trip but the best part is that every morning, the Kid is overwhelmingly excited to go. The Husband and I pretty much fight who gets to take him in the morning. This is such a 180 from the last place where the Kid would turn into a Howler Monkey as we brought him up the steps to the daycare and we would turn into balls of guilt. The number of IOU sexual promises I made so that the Husband would do the daycare run was astronomical. Sorry buddy, I lied on paper with crayon.

So, yes, anyway, we had a meeting with Dr. W. yesterday. It was a work holiday so while I was excited to have a couple of hours off, I was also all hopped up on noivous energy. Purchases made? A mason jar, a Yankee candle and a Simon and Garfunkel's greatest hits CD. ANALYZE THAT!

Our meeting was at 4 and I received a few emails and texts from the Husband.

Him: Hi dear. Here is the address. Do you know how to get there?
Me: Pffft. I've been there before. No problem.
Him: You can take this tram or that tram or the bus. If you are coming from Wiedner Haupstrasse, take this tram. If you are coming from Südtirolerplatz, take this tram. Here is a screenshot of the place. With arrows, showing you which way to walk.
Me: Maybe I'll walk all the way there.
Him: NOOOOOOO!

An hour before our meeting:

Him: Hi dear. Do you know how to get there?
Me: Pffft. I'll be fine.

30 minutes later...

Me: Ugh. This station is like Soviet Russia. I don't know where I am and people look mean. And poor. And mean. And I think I'm lost....
Him: WHAT?!?! WHERE ARE YOU?!?!
Me: Don't know. It's cold and it's dark.
Him: WHAT?!?!
Me: Oh! Never mind! I made it here! False alarm! HAHAHAHA! All ok! See you soon! I LOVE YOU!

No wonder he has high blood pressure. So he shows up, a little angry at me and we sit in the waiting room for our meeting with Dr. W. and we both are feeling a little queasy. Just before 4, the door opens and Dr. W. invites us in. Dr. W. looks like every male, 50 something, Viennese shrink would look like and I stop myself from screaming PENIS ENVY to lighten the mood. He sits back and takes out his notebook and motions for us to start talking.

The Husband says "We're the parents of The Kid (full name). I am his father, she is his mother." at this point I helpfully snort and roll my eyes and consider screaming ELECTRA COMPLEX to take this conversation to another level. The psychologist, noticing that we are inept at this type of awkwardness, gets right to the point. He informs us that the specialists at the daycare requested more help to help them with the Kid. Apparently he is a lot to handle and now Dr. W, is coordinating with the head of an autism center to find an intern to work with the Kid 3 times a week at the daycare.
I to the N to the T to the E to the R to the N

At this point I interrupt him and say "Listen, I know people can't put a price on their child's wellbeing... well, I can hahahahaha... but how much is this going to cost us?" He pauses, takes a deep breath, writes something in his book (probably, BAD MOTHER) and then says "30 euros". To which I yell "AN HOUR?!?!?!?" He responds, calmly and not amused "A year" And then that is when I get the giggles and they don't stop because obviously this situation totally calls for the giggles because yes, I AM A TERRIBLE MOTHER, Ugh.

He continues over my manic barking laugh and says that if we are really lucky, this intern might even use our child as the subject of his or her master thesis! ISN'T THAT GREAT? No, sir, that isn't great. My son is not a science project. At least this part stopped the giggles and a part of me died a little but I held it together because I stupidly forgot to put on my waterproof eyeliner and I had a fabulous cat eye, winged liner look going.
It said "waterproof"

I restrained myself and the meeting ended shortly thereafter. In fact, the whole meeting lasted 10 minutes. Call me crazy, but this meeting could have probably been held via e-mail... with less manic laughing. We said our goodbyes and as the Husband and I walked out I turned to him and said "I just find it weird that the Kid is considered to be the most DIFFICULT child ever when at home he's a joy and so great. Maybe we have a gas leak."

So that was the meeting. As much as I bristle at the fact that people who are trained to take care of the Kid require additional help, I am grateful that the Kid will get some more one-on-one time. And, according to Dr. W., if we get an intern soon, it seems possible that the Kid will be able to stay past noon. Amen.


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