We got to the place and he decided he was not going to get a haircut and he would not get out of the car. He is 9 years old. It is not like when you are dealing with a crabby 3 year old and you have to pull them out of the car. I can't get him out. He keeps locking the doors. I am only 5 feet tall so he is not that much shorter than me. Plus, how crazy it must have looked for a mom to be trying to get a non-toddler to get out of the car. We were parked in front of a coffee shop. We must have been interesting entertainment.
Anyway, I had to leave him in there to run up and bring Jack into the place. The hair salon people are like 'Looks like you are missing one child." I look at them and say, "Murphy won't get out of the car." Then I burst out into tears. Like sobbing. And I am so embarrassed and even more embarrassed for Jack because who's mom does this? He is in 5th grade in Middle School. They don't want their mom to embarrass them. And I am crying. And laughing. Because I look like a freaking nut. Jack suddenly got incredibly interested in some burning candles at the place and would not look over at me. The women at the place were awesome. Most of them are all moms and they have known me for years now. It is a swanky new location and it is upstairs so I keep looking out the window down at the car to check on Murphy. And to make sure no cops have come by to check out the kid alone in the car.
I go back out to the car to check on Murphy. I clearly have been crying...plus, I never really stopped. Murphy, completely unfazed, asks me why I took his backpack. Then why did I take so long. I tell him, Well I burst out crying. I can't remember if he even asked me why. I gave him his backpack so he could work on his homework. And I sat in the front and cried. Is that an Asperger type response? I mean him, not me.
After we got home, he ran into the house because he had to go to the bathroom. He yelled out to me because he needed me for something. I was getting all of his stuff...he took his shoes and socks off in the car. He does that a lot. Because I did not drop everything and run to him, he called me a bad word. I am so embarrassed that my sweet little boy called me this name that I can't even say it. This isn't the only part of him.
I sat in the car and sobbed and sobbed. He ran out and gave me a hug and said he was sorry for treating me so badly. It was sort of a canned response though. Like he was supposed to say it. He said it and then said something else completely off topic. Then he ran back in to do his homework.
I can't even talk about this whole incident with him because he does not seem to really get what was not okay with it. I don't know how to fully explain this to someone who does not live this. It is like he doesn't remember. That was then, this is now. He would give me a perfectly good explanation if he even acknowledged it.
Yesterday was the day I cried at the hair salon.