I had a dermatologist’s appointment today to get a couple of moles looked at. I also pulled weeds for hours yesterday. Without sunscreen. So I thought today’s post would be all about the awkwardness of going to the derm with a sunburn. I was going to liken it to going to the dentist for a checkup after not flossing between checkups. You know, that professional cocked eyebrow that says, “Don’t even try to lie to me. I know everything.” I was going to make you giggle about how the first year of training in any medical field is spent teaching and perfecting The Look. You know The Look I am talking about. The one where they ask you some innocuous question like “What’s your date of birth?” followed by that Dr. stare and suddenly you are confessing that you ate only cupcakes yesterday, you consider unloading groceries as moderate exercise, and you are pretty sure it’s time to switch up deodorants because yours seems to have quit during the interrogation appointment. I have a similar look in my parenting arsenal. My kids call it my Tiger Face.

I had a few other fun ideas for this post, pre-appointment. But this appointment changed everything. It didn’t just change my post, but the physician’s assistant and nurse may have decided to switch careers by the time my appointment was finished.

So, yeah. I had two moles to get looked at. One on my face and one right by my baby feeding area, which I will henceforth refer to as the BFA-mole. If you are squeamish about the BFA, you should totally stop reading because, I assure you, it’s not going to get less awkward. 

Fine. You are still reading. Keep in mind that you were properly warned.

I brought squirmy Eva T with me, because sometimes the wait at the derm is a bit long, and punkin is a bit needy.  

The face mole was fine. Face mole. Such a pretty thing to say. “Hey, Cindy Crawford! I really like your face mole!” “Natalie Portman, that face mole is hot!” I do mean it. I think moles and freckles are attractive and make faces more interesting. Still, “face mole” is funny. Ugh. Sorry. I’m totally stalling. This story is so ridiculous and hilarious that it NEEDS to be told, it’s just too bad it is also my story… 

Next, I show the BFA-mole and the Dr decides to remove it. Now. One problem, I have Eva. Eva does not sit, crawl or do much more than make amazing facial expressions and extremely realistic toot sounds with her mouth. She is just super lazy content. 

We decide I should just hold her while they numb the BFA and remove the mole. Eva decides that since she can see her food source, she really ought to be eating. Soooo… I am now completely exposed, feeding her with one, while minor surgery is being performed on the other. I am also having to hold down her arms because she is very curious about what is happening to the rest of her breakfast. THEN, the other side, the surgical side starts to um, bring forth more “breakfast”. A veritable geyser of “breakfast” all over the nurse, the PA, and my surgery. So there I sat, feeding Eva and pinning her arms down while the nurse is going through a box of gauze trying to stem the flow of blood from the surgical site and also attempting to dam the free-flowing “breakfast” as the PA is desperately trying to finish stitching me up. 

I apologized. They said in all their years they had never done anything like that before.

My mom always said I was unique.

I dedicate this post to darling Sam, who had the misfortune of being in the firefighter’s blue-toothed truck as I told my story. Sorry, Sam.