Fish out of water.

Well color me overdressed, was my first thought when I walked into the 'garage party' that my parents neighbors were hosting. Dressed in grey tweed pants with a subdued pattern of blue plaid, a black sweater adorned with a silver and blue necklace (to pick up on the blue in the pants), silver ballet flats and a white three quarter lenght dressy jacket with oversized silver buttons, my hair straightened and glossed and pulled back into a sleek ponty tail, I might have guessed that I would be slightly overdressed for a 'garage' party, but really I don't have a very wide selection of loose fitting clothes to choose from, other than pyjamas.

The pyjamas might have been a better choice, I thought with dismay, noting the overabundance of grey sweat pants, lumberjackets and Timberland boots. As it turns out, garage parties are pretty informal.

I was a little out of my element convesation wise as well. The conversation pretty much centered all around what kind of fishing they do, the kinds of fish they catch, the weights of said fish, which lakes are good for fishing at various points in the year. Out of kindness, perhaps, someone asked me what type of fishing I was into. I answered that I had never been fishing, per se. That seemed to be a bit of a conversation killer. Stunned silence. I might as well have just told them that I was an escaped mental patient. In fact, I think I now know how escaped mental patients must feel. I mean, a little understanding would go a long way. I restrained myself from saying that I philosophically don't really like the whole idea of killing things for sport. And also- fish?? Ew. Seriously.
And of course, there was much ado about Ladies Night. Some factions of the population are boycotting the event, based on the totally controversial upon change of venue. And not only that, but apparently thier much loved band "The Chicken Heads" were not booked this year, and this had lead to many ripplings of discontent.
Anyways, I am planning on attending Ladies Night, so this will be interesting to see how it plays out. There are concerns about the turnout this year.
And then there I was, drinking my Chardonnay while they were all passing around a bottle of Yager, which I politely declined to drink.
Anyways, I survived the night. My first 'garage party.' I was completely unscathed, although the next day I did have to take a fistful of Tylenol #1, Gravol and Advil to get through the day. But. Still.
But the point is, I have never considered myself to be a snobby person. But now I may have to consider that fact.
Oh, and as for Alex's diarrhea, not to keep you all in suspense, but things do seem to be improving a bit. We have been giving him Lacteeze, so it does help somewhat, although not completely, and that is a concern with Easter around the corner.
But that is all for today.

It's really pathetic to say this, but the most exciting thing that I have in my life right now is that Alex has diarrhea. It doesn't sound very interesting but let me tell you, if you have a baby and he has diarrhea for several weeks in a row, it will rock your world to it's very core, and suddenly something you've barely paid any attention to before- your kids bowels, becomes an all out obsession. I have food diaries, soy milk, soy crackers, soy cheese, four different kinds of diaper cream, doctors appointments, stool specimens on the kitchen counter, a poop log; and something else to add to my list of 'nevers'- never let your toddler who suffers from chronic diarrhea wear your shoes while having bare bum time.

I don't know. When I put it like that, it kind of just seems like common sense. In retrospect, I probably should have seen that coming. Anyways. I had to go out this morning and buy some new shoes. I have been in grocery stores and drug stores alike, slightly sheepishly, but also somewhat desperately asking the employees if they carry a product called "Butt Paste".
It actually really works. The paste, I mean. For diaper rash.
You can buy it at Shoppers Drug Mart if you need to know. Save you some embarrassment. The people look at you like you're some kind of pervert. Their like "this isn't that kind of a store, lady. I think there's a place on Idylwild", wink wink, nudge, nudge.

Anyways, so the long awaited doctors appointment has come and gone. I put so much faith in this doctors appointment. I was like "probably they'll just test him for allergies and then we'll know what's going on," but then, as it turns out, there are no easy answers when it comes to diarrhea. The doctors advice: two things. First of all, a slightly abridged version of "watch and wait" and then "Just try to play detective."
Oh- Kay, I sort of thought that was when YOU would come in, but okey-dokey.
I'm not opposed to 'watch and wait' as a general philosophy, and it might be OK if we were dealing with, say, a bunion, but 10 plus watery poops every day is not really like that. You know, you kind of want to get it cleared away. Although, I suppose a person with a bunion would say the same thing, too.
Actually I think I might have a bunion. I'll have to talk to the doctor about that someday, too. But anyways.
I guess, and I mean, whatever. Like the kids healthy and whatever it is I'm sure it will pass, but then you always sort of think, like what if this is something more sinister than a simple food allergy?? Well, not to be all dramatic or anything. I'm sure he's fine.
And something else to add to my list of 'nevers'- never leave a shoeful of diarrhea in a room unattended with a dog while you're washing your babies ass. I don't really want to get into the whole thing- but honestly- I have never been the kind of person who would ever want to say, kick a dog in the teeth, but really, I could have. I would have.
God it was so disgusting. I was having a conversation with a coworker the other day and we were saying how it's hard to know when to call it quits, kid wise. I was like "Well, I think if you've ever walked into a room, stepped in puke, wiped it off on your other pant leg and then continued with the rest of your day, that's a good sign that you're pretty much done." Cuz I've been there. I've stepped in puke and poop and pee and once, even a dead mouse.
And once upon a time I probably would have scoured and bleached and totally freaked. But now it's like "Oh god. Puke again?? I'm too tired. I'll deal with it later."


And you know what else I'm finding out?? Milk is in like literally everything. It's like the people that marketed milk have infiltrated every single food domain- except for maybe meat and vegetables. And its not like you can feed your baby a big old steak with a raw carrot for lunch, right? so you're pretty much screwed. I mean, at first you're like "Okay, so we just don't feed him milk, right?" Simple enough. But then next thing you know you're reading the label on everything--cracker boxes, cookie boxes, his favorite oatmeal, pasta,--- and discarding pretty much everything. I mean, I have never thought that being lactose intolerant could be so much work. The bunion people are so lucky.
Anyways. The other day we had to go to a track meet for Gage. We spent like an hour looking for a parking space to watch him run for about eleven seconds. We circled the parking lot- nada. Circle again. Nada. Soon we were looking at the handicapped parking, looking at each other wjith loathing in our eyes, thinking about it. We were like "those damn disabled people are so lucky. They catch all the breaks." And so then my husband started to nose in and I was like "Seriously??" Because to me, parking in a disabled parking space is right up there with like Al Kaida. I know there's a problem with that sentence with verb agreement, but I simply mean to say that I really hate it. But then Geoff made a good point. He was like "How many disabled people do you really think are going to show up at a track meet??"
I was like well, touche, but still...
Anyways, we ended up parking like about four miles away, just so you know, so don't start bombarding me with hate mail.
That is all for tonights edition.
I will let you know how the poop situation progresses. I am sure you are all on the edge of your seats.