THE STONE HAS ARRIVED

Yesterday Addison and Shae came barging into the Treehouse. I couldn't imagine what was going on and fortunately I was not on the platform. It was Dandy Don's Christmas Variety Hour weekend and I was free of responsibility.

Addison was frantic because she could not pee. She said her bladder was full but only drips were slipping out and she felt as if she had to go urgently. She was pale and in obvious pain. I went with her to the bathroom, turned on the facets and encouraged her to try again. Nothing. I sent her home to take her pain meds and Scott promptly called the doctor. Hmm. No fever and the pain was in her bladder so he said keep trying to pee and call him in the morning. Creative medical advice.

We spent the afternoon pacing and waiting to see what the next step would be and sure enough we were not through with this journey. Addison kept moving and trying to empty her bladder and kept getting, to say the least, little trickels of urine.

It was close to 8:00pm when Addison screamed out my name and I went bounding up the stairs. Yep. Her stone had finally arrived and she captured it with her little strainer as she peed a healthy, steady stream. It was about 4mm long and about the diameter of a fork tine and very jagged. We put it in a jar and will deliver it to the lab soon. She has taken pictures and has been sharing the story everywhere. It has been quite the adventure for her and the family.

I wonder what it will be like when she delivers her first baby.

A JACK ATTACK

Hope R. had baby sitting fun on Friday night. She watched Hope G. and Jack at our house. There were movies, popcorn, ice cream, knitting and running all evening long. I gave Hope G. lessons in knitting and Jack gave me lessons on sounds that one little boy can make.

Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer was the movie of choice and Jack loved the "abdominal snow monster". Phinias and Ferb were also enjoyed and it has to be said, I don't understand the enthusiasm for this particular TV delight.

Jack did check out all the Roderick house bathrooms, just to make sure they were all in proper functioning order. Jack's aim gets better ever time he uses a toilet although he under shot one time and soiled his jeans and would not, very loudly, refused to put on a substitute pair of pants that were girls.

He finally crashed in a heap on the floor as Hope R. and Hope G. continued to watch another Christmas movie without him.

The Roderick's loved their "Jack Attack" and look forward to another very soon.

RECYCLED CHRISTMAS 2010

Christmas has been gently tucked away in our minds and we have bid a fond farewell to 2010. That is all that is left of our recycled Christmas experiment. The girls have decided that the idea was great in theory but not so much in reality.

The recycled skirts did not work out at all . . . bust. The recycled charms were met with a chill but kept none the less. The recycled flannel shirts were a 50 - 50 shot. The recycled handbags were accepted by only one. The personal Starbucks cards were greeted with great enthusiasm as was the yarn for future sweaters. Gift cards to tradeasone.com were met with skepticism.

The annual gift from Dad was exciting and brand, spankin' new (the only new gift for 2010). Each girl recieved her yearly bottle of perfume.

Now I must start plotting Christmas 2011. Any suggestions?

IT'S A 50'S THING: #14

It was snowing . . . hard. It was cold . . . really cold. It was getting bad . . . brutal.

Time to stop at the foot of the mountain and put the old chains on the Highlander. Now it had been awhile since Scott attempted to put chains on a car, but Hope was out and willing to give her old dad a helpful hand.

They had the chains out of the car as I was calmly knitting and they had their cute snow covered heads together planning their strategy. I was impressed.

Suddenly, they joined Addison and I in the car. When questioned why they had jumped in the car they both replied "It's too cold out there and too snowy."

Wait. What. Why?

Scott paid a guy $20.00 to put his chains on for him. In your 50's you can afford to do that.

IT'S A 50'S THING: #13

Scott did a little yard clean up this afternoon. I walked out to ask if he would get the tomatos that didn't ripen and I would put them on the counter. Perhaps we could salvage them. I watched as he picked them for me. He handed them to me and said "they'll either ripe or rot".

Really. What other choices do they have babe?

IMMEDIATE BLOGGING

This is one of those rare stories that requires immediate blogging or the moment will evaporate.

Addison scheduled her follow up doctors appointment for her kidney stone and asked if I would join her for medical support. I agreed and off we went for the 11:00am meeting with the doc.

Her doctor came in, checked Addi's vitals and did some tapping here and there. Addison, being herself, was chatting her up and down. "I just want this thing out of me" Addi said. The doctor said it could take 6 to 8 weeks but they prefer kidney stones be passed instead of some invasive procedure. Addison reluctantly accepted her fate and waited for further instructions.

The doctor prescribed Tylenol 3 in lieu of the vicadin, which was wreaking havoc on Addi's tummy. She also prescribed Flomax. Yes. Flomax. I knew what this was but I couldn't understand why it was being prescribed to my daughter and Addi had no idea. The doctor proceeded to explain to Addison that this drug would increase the diameter of her urether (sp) so that she could more easily pass the stone. She then added that the meds are for elderly men with prostate challenges. "You're kidding me right" was Addison's immediate reply. Her facial expression was a shock and awe sort of thing.

The conversation continued with the funnel strainer, coffee filters and a sweet little jar to keep her stone in so that it could be delivered to the lab. Every time you use the bathroom you must tinkle through the strainers and, well, needless to say, Addison is not happy with this current situation. It is really going to cramp her style.

I am picking up the prescription and coffee filters this afternoon. She keeps the filters with her as a disposable method of capture. I am going to write little notes to her on all of them.

Addison's reaction to her perceived medical nightmare. Priceless.

NOTE TO SELF

As many of you know I am an avid knitter. Love it. I go everywhere with my needles, yarn and projects of many shapes and sizes. I was not, however, prepared for the challenges of knitting with hunting dogs.

Gersey is the cutest little beagle you have ever seen and Fresca is about the most laid back lab I have ever encountered. Until I brought out my knitting.

I am used to flopping down in a chair with my bag on the floor next to me and knitting away the hours. I get up here and there to do a chore or two and go back and pick up where I left off, no worries.

This happens at my house, no issues at all.

Apparently it does not happen at the Pearson abode.

I got up to go chat with Scott and Marybeth in the kitchen, leaving my knitting unattended. That's when she struck. She grabbed a skein of wool yarn (wool comes from sheep that have a very interesting scent to a beagle I discovered) and took off lickety split, sprinting through the house.

Marybeth took off after her and Gersey decided game on. Scott took off after Marybeth trying to head Gersey off while Fresca just enjoyed romping around everyone else. My yarn was quickly spider webbing the first floor of the house. During all of this chaos, the sounds were facinating. Barking, name calling, laughing. Marybeth finally retrieved my yarn, much to Gersey and Fresca's dismay. No damage incurred while playing the "game".

Every once in a while I caught Gersey eyeing my yarn and contemplating making another move on it . . . don't even think about it girl.