This is Why You Don’t Take Your Toddler to the Gynecologist

Today I’m excited to welcome a guest post from Nicole Yontz, who is a stay at home mom in Arizona, a contributing parenting writer for WhatToExpect.com and a personal blogger at TheBetterHalfBlogs.com Welcome, Nicole!

There are many things that I don’t recommend; amateur alligator wrestling competitions, blindly sticking your hand in a hole to retrieve a golf ball on a course anywhere in the southwest, not reading the directions on anything you’re about to microwave for the first time, and taking a toddler to a gynecologist appointment.

I often heed the words of my own great advice but sometimes, due to unforeseen circumstances, you must just do what you gotta do to get a job done. In my case it was an internal sonogram, DURING NAP TIME. There are a couple scary things in that last sentence and I’m guaranteeing that as a parent you picked right up on them and are now thinking, “What in the hell is wrong with this woman?!?!” Well, to answer your question, a lot, but that’s a whole other post. Today we are focusing on what turned into, Anatomy for Toddlers 101.

About a year and a half ago, we figured that sleeping at night and actual sanity were a waste of our time so we “pulled the goalie” in hopes of adding another member to our family. Seeing as how easily our precious surprise child came to be, we thought we would have no problem replicating this miracle.

We were wrong.

In the time since, we have had month after month of negative tests and a miscarriage that knocked us up for a loop. Undeterred we continued on and our life has been a whirlwind of ovulation tests, calendars, fertility drugs, blood draws, doctors appointments and “timed intercourse.” And if the words “timed intercourse” don’t turn you on, then I’m sorry but nothing will.

This particular day, I knew my kid was going to be a handful–or what some would consider typical toddler behavior (WhatToExpect.com can give you the full download on what to expect from a toddler as well as the unexpected). It’s naptime; she’s smart, overly friendly to strangers and has a very loud speaking voice. All of which have lent a hand in some of the most embarrassing moments of my life. I came prepared; I packed juice, an iPad, snacks and even an ace in the hole: Skittles. I was bound and determined to go in, let someone else “go in,” then get the hell out, all without Audrey being none the wiser.

After an hour spent waiting we were finally in. I’m wearing a fashionable paper towel dress as the doctor prepares to do her thing. Lights are off, projection TV is on the wall and my child, who is usually completely entertained by whatever is going happening on the iPad, is now wholly focused on what’s on the overly large screen.

“What’s that?”

“That’s your mommy’s ovary.”

“Ovary. Ovary. Ovary. ORVAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!”

“Audrey, hush please. We’re almost done.”

“OH-VAH-REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!”

“AUDREY!”

::hushed:: “Ovary.”

And then it happens, she looks over to finally realize what’s really going on and…

“HEY MOM!!!! WHAT IS THAT DOCTOR DOING TO YOUR TUSHIE?!?!?!”

I heard it, the doctor heard it, the front office heard it, people in surrounding counties wondering what I was doing that day heard it.

Not knowing what to say to the doctor who is now laughing hysterically, I just hand a bag of Skittles to the kid, close my eyes and wonder off to my happy place. A place where it rains Pinot Noir and children are not allowed.

The next day Audrey sits up next to me, hugs my neck and says, “Mom, I’m so glad that doctor fixed your tushie and now it’s all better.” Yes dear, me too.