Daddy Blues

Honestly, lately I feel as if I live for the weekends. However, this weekend was not one I wish to repeat. The fun started early on last week when Bradley was complaining of back pain. Not one to ignore my husband, I simply nodded and showed my "oh, no" face, all whilst still finishing off the nightly tasks. Come Thursday, he simply had turned into a very creaky tin man, and had the attitude to match. I tried to make him a chiropractor appt. for that day, but they couldn't see him until Friday at 3:30. Ah, yes, he will go to the chiropractor and feel better in time to get our Christmas Tree this weekend and hang some lights, Clark Griswold style. We all know what happens when we make plans in the Isbell home. . .

Friday night his back felt much better, but come Saturday morning he was in sheer agony around his neck. Sure he had in fact broken his neck, he spent the ENTIRE day on the couch in a 90 degree angle popping Vicodin I had leftover from giving birth to our youngest. Let me remind you of what Vicodin does to my husband who is already crankier, let's just say it didn't cross my mind to look up the number to 1-800-DIVORCE . Come Saturday night, we were all ready to go to the local tree lighting and had JUST told our two year old that Santa was coming. My husband who was all hopped up on Vicodin agreed to come. No sooner were we ready to go than the power went out. Sh**! Once the two year old was calmed and convinced that Santa would indeed still make an appearance at a later time, we decided to go to Yreka to get some dinner. Once again, the power comes back on, we go to dinner at the Pub, (where someone commented that Bradley looked shell-shocked, no just pain and Vicodin). My parents commented on how bad he looked and called their friend who is a masseuse (yes, my parents have friends like this), to come over the next day. After dinner, Bradley drove us around while we looked at lights. Carter looked at the lights and said things like, "I can't believe my eyes", "Amazing!", and "it's beautiful!".

Okay, so sometime around midnight on Saturday, I had fallen asleep on the couch, and Bradley attempted to go into our hottub to relieve his pain. This was after I had found him hunched over his dresser crying. Anywho, he goes into the hot tub (naked - we do have some privacy), I fall asleep on the couch, and he finds himself stranded in the hot tub and not able to get out. Luckily, he hears our newly retired neighbor out telling his dog to take a "poo-poo". Out of sheer determination to not have to seek help from our older neighbor, while being naked, and slightly "broken", Bradley miraculously manages to get out of the hot tub. He then comes in, wakes me up, and repeats the story, to which I start laughing, which makes him laugh, and then double over in pain.

Sometime around noon the next day an elderly gentlemen, wearing late 1980's NorthFace gear, and with a European accent, (whom we have NEVER met before), comes over and gives Bradley the best/worst massage of his entire life for two hours. Bradley feels better, the gentlemen leaves, and then all hell breaks loose. Apparently, having a massage can make the toxins in your body move around. Well, now Bradley is toxic. He's felt as if he has had the flu all day and has eaten nothing. We're hoping that he feels better by tomorrow.

In the meantime, Miles has been booked for Baby Jesus, in the church pageant, and I may have to forgo our "Griswold Family Christmas Tree" by going down to the local tree-lot. Yes, Fort Jones has one of those now. But the good news is that by next weekend, perhaps I'll be ready to be a "weekend warrior" again.