As moms, sometimes we are put into situations where we just have to “figure it out”. You know, like when you give your kid 7 different apple-flavored products and they puke in their car seat on your way to work. Or when you have 14 pick-up/drop off stops to make and there is only one of you and soooo many of them. Or like recently, when your husband is at work, you have no babysitter, so you’re forced to take your two-year-old to the gyno with you for your annual appointment. Yep, I did that. And now I am going to share that epic day with you.
The night before my appointment, I prepped as if I was going on a 3-day road trip with all three of my children.
Phone and backup phones were charged with movies loaded, juice boxes, sippy cups, back-up sippy cups, crackers, bananas, PB&J, gummy snacks, toys, money (my kid likes to play with change…and yes I know that it’s a choking hazard), diapers and wipes were all stuffed into my mom bag, ready to serve as a distraction.
It didn’t help that like an IDIOT, I scheduled my appointment at 8 am. Mind you, my OB is 45 minutes away, so guess who had to wake the princess up before she was ready? Oh. And we had to get up even earlier to take my oldest daughter to her grandma’s so she could get to school. That’s right, epic start. I also want to mention that I left Mack her in her PJ’s hoping she would go back to sleep. One guess as to how that played out.
She was good for most of the drive, but then at about 15 minutes out from the doctor, she went into what my husband and I like to call, velociraptor mode. Basically, it’s anytime she is angry and expresses said anger with a scream that will make your ears bleed. I didn’t want to tap into my bag of goodies for fear that I would run out during the appointment, so I cranked the radio up and repeated, “almost there Mack” a dozen times until we pulled into the parking space.
By that point, I was 5 minutes late so the anxiety level was already on its way up. I don’t handle “late” well. As I went to take her out of the car I realized she was still in her PJ’s. Awesome. I figured the event was going to be disastrous enough that I didn’t need any extra judgment when Mack strolled in with a ballerina pajama top, Finding Dory bottoms, matted bedhead, and no shoes or socks.
The wait time was minimal, so the 3 or 4 patients waiting only had to endure a short amount of toddler time. Why must all doctor’s office chairs be connected or practically on top of one another? I don’t know about your kids but mine see these chairs as a jungle gym. Regardless of how big they are, they will undoubtedly try to squeeze themselves underneath the arm rests, or use them as hurdles.
Next stop? Peeing in a cup with a toddler in tow. After fighting with her about not sitting on my lap WHILE I peed, she literally laid flat on the bathroom floor and kicked at the air in anger. Good thing being pregnant twice has made me an expert at the whole cup/aim thing. However, I’m not sure I am qualified enough to pee in a cup with a buddy on my lap.
As we bustled into the exam room, she actually held my hand and allowed the door to be shut behind us. But, as the clothes came off, Mack’s forehead crinkled and she began to chuckle and shout “oh mama you nakey!” Thank God for all those cute little sayings we tell our kids right? Cause those never come back to bite us in the ass. I don’t know about you, but my two-year-old likes to point out that just like her, “mama you hab a hoo haw too”. I blame my husband for that name. Try as I might, vagina is not gaining popularity in her choice of vocabulary.
Honestly, more than anything, my biggest fear was that Mack would sprint out the door the second I got undressed and I would have to wrap that paper lap blanket around my bare ass and squeeze that atrocious pink vest tightly in the front so the girls wouldn’t pop out, and then high tail it after her before she made it to the waiting room. As I sat there naked, wrapped in paper, I kept begging Jesus to keep her in the room. I tried engaging her in conversation but if you know my daughter, you know that if she doesn’t want to talk to you and you push it, that’s like a one-way ticket into Jurassic Park.
Enter my PA Lisa, and so began sweaty armpit status. I tried to engage in meaningful conversation while simultaneously answering Mack’s “was dat?” questions for every instrument while also trying to keep her from TOUCHING EVERYTHING. Funnily enough, Lisa and I began to talk about my blog as Mack proceeded to switch the “hoo haw light” on and off a dozen times. It’s at this point that I committed to writing this post.
Once Lisa picked up the remote control to adjust the table I thought, “Here we go. It’s do or die time.” I tossed a package of gummies at Mack and said a prayer.
As all women know, our doctors try to make us comfortable by striking up a conversation while checking out our “hoo haws”. It’s difficult enough to do this while trying to distract your brain from the awesomeness that is a pap smear, but doing it while distracting a toddler takes a superpower only mothers possess. In broken sentences, I tried to describe my blog and what I had been up to since our last visit as Despicable Me blared in the background. A piece of advice. If you ever find yourself in my position, no pun intended, make sure your bag of goodies is close. Or resting on top of your paper vest. Because trying to reach down into your purse from an elevated table, legs in stirrups, and your business out for the world is just an accident waiting to happen. Luckily, Lisa recognized my attempt and truly helped a sister out.
I’m incredibly lucky to have THE best PA in the world and I actually enjoy seeing mine every year. Lisa, if you ever read this, you are an angel. You recognized my panic, you were swift, patient, and as always, made me feel like having a toddler as an audience during a pap was totally normal. Thank you for distracting my daughter’s impending tantrum by teaching her how to put the foot stirrups away…which she proceeded to try and break by shoving them in and out with the force of an NFL linebacker. This, of course, AFTER slamming her fingers in the cabinet 3 times.
Mommin ain’t easy people and it sure ain’t pretty sometimes. So the next time you’re hanging out in the stirrups, you can chuckle and think of me. My toddler. And my hoo haw. Cause that’s not weird at all right?