Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Baking Bread

Alice has an ouchie vagina, yeast infection to be proper.

Side Note: I'm afraid to say, I think today's post is one that will come back to bite me in the ass when Alice is old enough to peruse the Internet. I'm quite confident she will not like me talking openly with everyone about her nether region, but then again, I didn't exactly like how she treated mine 4 years ago. Maybe now we'll be even. Come to think of it, 21 hours of later, 4 hours of pushing...not even close to even yet.

It started over the weekend, the complaint of an ouchie vagina. I love that my daughter uses the word vagina. I know some parents elect to name genitals silly nicknames or just refer to them as privates, not me. Years ago I taughter her, her leg was called a leg, her elbow was called an elbow, and her vagina was called a vagina. It was a simple parenting decision for me.

Back to the ouchie va-jay-jay...I had her lie down so I could inspect the situation, see what was really going on. You know what I determined as a card carrying member of the vagina club myself? I had no clue what the inside of a 4 year old vagina was supposed to look like. It was a weird predicament to be in. I'd diapered her for 2 years and bathed her every other day, ahem, every fourth day, and yet I had no clue what her healthy, um, inside was supposed to look like. I knew that hers, on Sunday, didn't look exactly like I thought it probably should. I know the anatomy. There are 3 holes down there, and one of hers looked a little out of sorts. And it was oozing a bit, I think discharge is the appropriate term. Still though, I wasn't sure. Maybe that's just what it looked like? I called in back up, my eldest sister. Alice was completely comfortable. Freely holding her own legs up in the air for all to inspect what's supposed to be the most private of parts. No modesty what so ever. After further inspection, it was confirmed...her vag didn't look right.

Upon further complaints Monday, I spent the better part of the evening researching all the possible causes of my poor girls pain and hoping to find research to convince me I did not need to spend Tuesday morning sitting in the germ infested pediatric office.

Tuesday morning I found myself in said office, holding my breath hoping my daugher for once would not be the kid screaming as soon as she set foot on the premises. Until Tuesday, June 12, Alice had screamed and cried every single mothafokking time she had visited the doctor. I don't just mean a little whimper. I mean, regardless of shots or no shots, she cried from the moment we walked back towards the office until we walked down the hall to leave the building. Until Tuesday, my pediatrician had never heard Alice speak a word except "Mama! Mama!" And she's been talking since 9 months old. I think they hate us there.

Anyway, the good doctor confirmed, yeast. Apparently, little kids are unhygienic filthy beings. And their dirtiness can cause bad things like pink eye and yeast infection. Maybe if Alice would heed my constant advice, "Front to back, for the love of God, FRONT TO BACK!!" she wouldn't be dealing with a funky, painful crotch, now would she!? From the words of Mother Gothel, "Mother...knows best!"

1 comment:

  1. Oh, the joys of motherhood. Hope she feels better soon.

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