Please note that if you are sensitive to discussions of a bris or battery-operated sex toys, you should skip this. But I encourage you to relax a bit and read on!
So folks, I give you....SARAH! The Crazy Baby Mama!
*******************************************
DISCLAIMER: Dear Dad -- If you somehow manage to stumble on this story, I suggest you check out http://www.funwithtrains.com/ instead. Thank you. Love, Your Daughter.
Anyway, ladies, I may have some bad news: While having sex during pregnancy is generally fine, using a vibrator may be a little more risky. While it's true that most health care practitioners say that if you're having a normal, low-risk pregnancy then you can go to town with your iRabbit, but, if you're prone toward any uterine irritability then you should probably considering retiring that plastic bad boy for a few months. You see, no matter how incredible and mind-blowing your partner may be in bed (or in the backseat of a car, or in the shower, or on a pool table), orgasms from a vibrator are... well... more electrifying. Sorry B. It's nothing personal: Anything battery operated that pulsates like 1000 times a second is bound to deliver the goods harder and faster. And, because of the way vibrators are built, they increase your chances of having very strong, incredibly intense contractions.
(Seriously, Dad, http://www.funwithtrains.com/)
Since I was a hyper-neurotic crazy pregnant lady, I had said goodbye to my neon purple friend as soon as I found out I was knocked-up with Little Homie. But, now that he’s here safe and sound, and now that I’m forbidden from putting anything up into my lady business until Doctor B gives me the green light at my postpartum checkup, my iRabbit has made its triumphant return to my bedside drawer. See? There is no such thing as too much information.
Anyway, on Little Homie’s 8th day of life -- in accordance with the laws of Moses and the people Israel and because B is adamant that his son’s penis match his-- we invited our close family over for his Bris.
For the past few months, we scoured synagogues and two different Benihana restaurants for the perfect mohel to perform the ceremony, until someone reminded me that our family Rabbi had trained as a mohel and wielded a scalpel with a slow hand and an easy touch.
Now, I've known and loved this Rabbi since I was just a few years older than The Girl and Little Homie: He presided over all the services my parents and I went to when I was growing up. He told the best Jewish scary stories at sleep-away camp. He officiated at my Bat Mitzvah, and my mom's funeral. He was there to give the blessing at The Girl’s Simchat Bat. He's more than just a Rabbi to us -- he's part of our extended family. And, I felt better knowing that we were entrusting our son’s penis to someone we already knew than some stranger off the street.
Well, given my ridiculously intense paranoia concern about germs affecting my newborn baby boy, as the guests trickled in on the morning of the Bris, Little Homie and I hung out in the bedroom awaiting the arrival of our Rabbi.
"Ok, what does this have to do with vibrators?" I hear you cry.
Don’t worry. I’ll get there. I’m just taking the scenic route.
The Rabbi arrived and joined us in the bedroom. He greeted us with many "Mazel Tovs," and we got down to business. After we discussed the order of the speakers for the ceremony, the Rabbi stood up and said he needed a pen and paper to write it all down. Before I could stop him, he reached over to open the bedside drawer.
As cliche as it sounds, it really was like the whole thing happened in slow motion. I tried to block him, but I was still a little unstable with the baby in my arms. So, I had to make a fast decision: Either I drop Little Homie on the floor and keep my flysecrets hidden in the bedside drawer, or I sacrifice my dignity while keeping my son safe and sound. Well, Hasta La Vista, Dignity. Vaya Con Dios.
The Rabbi grabbed the knob, and pulled, and for a blessed moment, it seemed like the drawer wouldn't budge. But, with a mighty tug, the Rabbi yanked the drawer open, and in the process, managed to activate the iRabbit's on-switch. Whirring, buzzing, and gyrating, unlike so many smaller, more discreet models, this vibrator leaves very little to the imagination: it comes complete with a fairly girthy shaft, a well-formed glans, and -- YES -- it even appears to be circumcised. While the neon purple tempers things a little, it doesn't help much.
Well, the Rabbi quickly slammed the drawer shut, and we both pretended that we couldn't hear the rhythmic buzzing as we continued to discuss the upcoming ceremony. Little Homie survived his bris without any apparent physical or emotional trauma. In fact, he slept through the whole thing, cooing softly when the Rabbi placed a tiny droplet of the ruby red wine on his sweet baby lips. I, on the other hand, like every other mama of a Jewish baby boy, wept, my head buried in The Girl’s curls while we welcomed my son into the Covenant.
No comments:
Post a Comment