The Rabbit and the Rabbi

DISCLAIMER: Dear Dad -- While I think it's wonderful that you read my blog, this post is not for you to read. Kindly find something else to do online until I discuss my feelings about the Jewish New Year, or share my take on how the Dodgers are doing this season. 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 to stimulate the clit, they increase your chances of having very strong, incredibly intense contractions.

Since I was a hyper-neurotic crazy pregnant lady even before I developed uterine irritability in the second trimester, I had said goodbye to my neon purple friend as soon as I found out I was knocked-up with M. But, after she was born and my doctor gave me the green light, my iRabbit made its triumphant return to my bedside drawer, where it happily reunited with its good friends, K-Y and Trojan. There, the three lived happily ever after, until the day of M's baby naming ceremony.

When M was a few weeks old, we invited close family and friends over for a 'Simchat Bat,' a modern Jewish ritual that celebrates the birth of a baby girl. Unlike the typical Jewish Brit (Circumcision) for baby boys, the naming ceremony for baby girls is fairly low-key and doesn't involve any sharp knives: Typically, the rabbi will say a few prayers, and make a special blessing over the infant. There is almost always a lot of singing, hand-clapping, feet-stomping, and yaidel-daidel-ing, followed by some hard-core noshing.

Well, given my ridiculously intense paranoia concern about germs affecting my newborn baby girl, as the guests arrived, M and I hung out in the bedroom. once the Rabbi came, he would join us, and we would go over a few of the ceremonial details. Now, I've known and loved this Rabbi since I was just a few years older than M: 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's more than just a Rabbi to us -- he's part of our extended family.

("Ok, what does this have to do with vibrators?" I hear you cry. Let me explain:)


The Rabbi arrived, greeted us with many "Mazel Tovs," and we got down to business. After we discussed the order of the speakers for the ceremony, he asked if M was named for anyone, as is customary in the Ashkenazi Jewish tradition. Well, she is: In fact, the poor kid has not one, not two, but three names to honor the memories of my mom, my Aunt Judy, and my Grampa Fred, and B's Saba (Grampa) Moshe and Savta (Gramma) Yeuhdit. Yeah, she's going to have a helluva time bubbling in all the letters to her name on the standardized tests. Oh well. At least her whole name fits (just barely) on her passport. Well, when faced with the long list of family members we chose to honor when naming our bebe, 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 M on the floor and keep my secrets hidden in the bedside drawer, or I sacrifice my dignity while keeping M safe and sound. Well, Sayonara, Dignity. 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 discrete 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. The 'Simchat Bat' was lovely: M slept through the singing, clapping and stomping, awakening only when the Rabbi gave her his special blessing. While it was difficult to maintain eye contact with the Rabbi for the rest of the afternoon, perhaps enough time has passed, and he has forgotten by now. Well, probably not. In any event, with Little Homie chillin in my uterus, the iRabbit has been sent off on another vacation. When it is allowed to return home in a few more months, I will make sure to put it somewhere very well hidden on the day of Little Homie's Circumcision. I've learned my lesson.