My spirits have not been particularly high this week. I miss running. I wish I could at least go for a walk. I miss The Beast as he is working 6 days a week (and I need to set up a date for us). The boys are fighting a lot. Bean seems to be in another difficult phase.
Bean seems to be back into major negotiations mode. He's negotiating everything and, more obnoxious, he's being sneaky. After the perfume incident, The Beast and I were just too frustrated and spent to deal with it right away. The Beast was frustrated that it meant more work for him, I was experiencing a range of emotions over the perfume itself (what if he had swallowed it? What else did he take? It was Mom's, and I don't want it to be tainted with some big disciplinary event...).
We basically slept on it. We told Bean we didn't have the patience to do bedtime that night. We gave him hugs and kisses and said we were going to go calm down and we'd talk about it in the morning.
I decided that it was much more important to me that he be safe and that he hear about Grandma Nita than that he repent or somehow be punished. So, the major consequence-that-could-be-construed-as-punishment was that he had to keep his door open for a few days so the room could air out. This meant his brother and anyone else who came over had free access to his room, which meant he had to keep his room kind of picked up and keep special items up high on his bunk bed. He didn't fight me on this even once over the 4 or so days I enforced it.
The second thing was that we sat down and looked at the two items he had snuck off with, and explored them safely. I showed him how to put on the perfume, just the way Grandma Nita had shown me. I showed him pictures of the bottle Grandma Nita had had (it differs from mine). He really wanted to spray it at a target (if the weapons phase is like the dinosaur, airplane, and dragon phases, we've got a year of hardcore interest in weapons ahead of us...), and I told him I would give him a different spray bottle for that - the perfume was a special thing and it made the house stink if it was sprayed a lot.
Then we moved on to the bite plate he'd snuck off with - he said he'd used it as a fairy bow! (Surprise! He weaponized it!) I told him we could find something else to use as a fairy bow - the bite plate was mine, it is made to fit my teeth. He seemed ok with it all.
Basically, though, I really tried to imagine myself looking back on this in 10 or 15 years. What would I want my teenage and young adult son to remember and learn from this? I wanted him to know that he was more important than a thing - even a really special thing. I wanted him to understand why it was special, and I wanted him to have a special interaction with it. And I wanted him to remember that his safety was a priority and there are potentially dangerous items in the bathroom - that medicine cabinets aren't curiosity shops!
There have been a couple other incidents of sneakiness and downright defiance. And a lot of yelling (by everyone). I can't get up and get to him quickly to stop him from doing things (mostly bullying his brother), and I can't squat down to his level at all, but yelling is effective. Which sucks.
He also seems to be in a renewed phase of turning things into other things. It is creative and his attention to detail is amazing. We give him random things (a broken purse strap, plastic gears, etc) and see what he does with them. He comes out of his room with his life jacket and declares it a breastplate. He builds weapons and creates sheaths and quivers. He declares he has magic powers when he wears particular gloves, and they might require modifications to intensify his might.
Recovery has also not been the smoothest this week.
I was put back on crutches on Wednesday after having been off them since the previous Thursday. This wasn't a tremendous real-world setback, but it was a huge mental blow. Basically, starting last Sunday I was having increased pain every afternoon/evening/night. I called my doctor just to check in and be cautious, and he said I should go back on the crutches to reduce my activity for a few days and see if that helped. It did. I guess I was overdoing it (note: as soon as I had pain, I was done for the day and not pushing through. But I was also feeling really good in the mornings and early afternoons. So I guess I overdid it. Blah.)
I'm almost 4 weeks post-op. My range of motion is definitely slowly improving, but I still limp and I still end up with pain in my hip every now and then. I think the pain is mostly my psoas seizing up, so I've been trying to stretch it and massage it and take loads of deep breaths and just relax.
I also might get to ride a bike in physical therapy this week. I don't think it's exactly going to be a cardio workout, but it's a step in the right direction (the right direction being the one where I am out of breath, drenched in sweat, and am so sore a couple days later that I gleefully complain every time I stand up or sit down...).
So that's that. I don't feel like I've got much interesting to say these days. It's not all bad: The Beast took the boys away for a few hours yesterday and I got a bunch of random stuff done, I'm looking forward to the holidays. I'm just not as boisterous as usual.