A Week of Ups and Downs
What a week of emotions. I don't know about you guys but I could use a big drink. LIKE HUGE! Here is kind of the run down of what has been happening.
Sunday: The Husband called the agent and said we'd take the apartment after I took my foot off his neck.
Monday: The Kid was home sick with me so I spent the day pinning interior decorating ideas.
Tuesday: A meeting at the Daycare to tell us that they are kicking us out at the end of May. Awesome. Then having the nerve to tell us that moving was probably not a good idea because it would upset him. Oh wait, I am sorry, kicking him out of the daycare he has attended for two years is ok but moving to an apartment with more space, light and right on a park is a big mistake? Yeah, ok. And the worst part is that this was coming from the Kate Gosselin clone who has been my secret nemesis these past two years. Gah! She drives me mental with her highlights and angular haircuts and perfect dresses and two angelic girls and blah blah I bet you have some skeletons in your closet, Austrian Kate.
Wednesday: In the morning, signed our new lease. We're in like Flynn, baby! Then I cried tears of happiness. Then my body shut down. I went out for dinner but could only last an hour and headed home.
Thursday: Went to work, still battling the mutant flu. Pinned more stuff for the new apartment in the evening. Watched the Opera Ball. Kim Kardashian's dress was no bueno.
Friday: Morning meeting with the child therapist for the final diagnosis. Seems that the Kid shows some signs of autism and some signs of the opposite of autism. So who knows. Let's call it Raphaelism. She suggested we start ergo therapy ASAP which we will (1 hour a week) and to look into a specialty daycare. At this point I started sobbing. I know that the Kid has difficulties but I am angered that he has to be labelled. I am tired of fighting it and I told the therapist that I don't want him to be put into a box and unable to enjoy a normal childhood because of a label that I have a feeling he will outgrow with enough therapy and support. I was crying heavily at this point and I was speaking German so it came out as "Bleghisgoi kasten, stempel, blergh". She completely understood and reassured me that in a year, he most likely will be completely and utterly different and he would then be reassessed. A specialty daycare should not affect his chances of attending a normal school but I am still sick to my stomach. I know that this will be the best for him and that we will see a much happier kid but my heart is just a little bit broken. I see such an amazing person inside of him, a kid who is frustrated because he doesn't have the language to say what he always needs. He has such a sense of humour and is incredibly kind and affectionate. He's my little man. He's Raphael. And yet, I feel forced to give him a title for why he does the things he does. But I also rationally know that if we start on this track now, we can shape his behaviour and ensure a much happier and normal future for him. I have to realize how incredibly blessed that he is, for the most part, fine.
It has been a long and hard journey these past many many months and I am thinking that by getting this apartment and moving into a new place, we are metaphorically also moving into a new stage of our lives. In my heart of hearts I know it will all work out. The recommendations of therapy and a specialty daycare don't come as a shock, but I had to actually hear it out loud for the grief to kick in. But no matter what, the Kid will flourish in a new specialty daycare (please please cross your toes and fingers that we get a place) and in a few months, we will all be in a better place. I just need today to cry a lot and mourn a little and then I will do what I always do... take a deep breath, have a glass of wine and do my best to be positive. My little man is going to be alright. We are going to be alright. His future will be great and one day I will look back at this and think, boy, did I have a drinking problem... I mean, boy, he gave us a run for our money but look at him now.
Sunday: The Husband called the agent and said we'd take the apartment after I took my foot off his neck.
Monday: The Kid was home sick with me so I spent the day pinning interior decorating ideas.
Tuesday: A meeting at the Daycare to tell us that they are kicking us out at the end of May. Awesome. Then having the nerve to tell us that moving was probably not a good idea because it would upset him. Oh wait, I am sorry, kicking him out of the daycare he has attended for two years is ok but moving to an apartment with more space, light and right on a park is a big mistake? Yeah, ok. And the worst part is that this was coming from the Kate Gosselin clone who has been my secret nemesis these past two years. Gah! She drives me mental with her highlights and angular haircuts and perfect dresses and two angelic girls and blah blah I bet you have some skeletons in your closet, Austrian Kate.
Wednesday: In the morning, signed our new lease. We're in like Flynn, baby! Then I cried tears of happiness. Then my body shut down. I went out for dinner but could only last an hour and headed home.
Thursday: Went to work, still battling the mutant flu. Pinned more stuff for the new apartment in the evening. Watched the Opera Ball. Kim Kardashian's dress was no bueno.
Friday: Morning meeting with the child therapist for the final diagnosis. Seems that the Kid shows some signs of autism and some signs of the opposite of autism. So who knows. Let's call it Raphaelism. She suggested we start ergo therapy ASAP which we will (1 hour a week) and to look into a specialty daycare. At this point I started sobbing. I know that the Kid has difficulties but I am angered that he has to be labelled. I am tired of fighting it and I told the therapist that I don't want him to be put into a box and unable to enjoy a normal childhood because of a label that I have a feeling he will outgrow with enough therapy and support. I was crying heavily at this point and I was speaking German so it came out as "Bleghisgoi kasten, stempel, blergh". She completely understood and reassured me that in a year, he most likely will be completely and utterly different and he would then be reassessed. A specialty daycare should not affect his chances of attending a normal school but I am still sick to my stomach. I know that this will be the best for him and that we will see a much happier kid but my heart is just a little bit broken. I see such an amazing person inside of him, a kid who is frustrated because he doesn't have the language to say what he always needs. He has such a sense of humour and is incredibly kind and affectionate. He's my little man. He's Raphael. And yet, I feel forced to give him a title for why he does the things he does. But I also rationally know that if we start on this track now, we can shape his behaviour and ensure a much happier and normal future for him. I have to realize how incredibly blessed that he is, for the most part, fine.
It has been a long and hard journey these past many many months and I am thinking that by getting this apartment and moving into a new place, we are metaphorically also moving into a new stage of our lives. In my heart of hearts I know it will all work out. The recommendations of therapy and a specialty daycare don't come as a shock, but I had to actually hear it out loud for the grief to kick in. But no matter what, the Kid will flourish in a new specialty daycare (please please cross your toes and fingers that we get a place) and in a few months, we will all be in a better place. I just need today to cry a lot and mourn a little and then I will do what I always do... take a deep breath, have a glass of wine and do my best to be positive. My little man is going to be alright. We are going to be alright. His future will be great and one day I will look back at this and think, boy, did I have a drinking problem... I mean, boy, he gave us a run for our money but look at him now.
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