Wednesday, March 05, 2008

  • On sex toys and breastpumps.

    We lay in bed, talking about the day. I had visited my sisters and got to meet my brand new little neice, who is just six days old. I had taken a bunch of stuff over to her house for their little one, a swing and some other baby gadgets. I was going for the day, so I carried along my pump with me. Breastpumps are cumberson objects, weighing several pounds, and roughly the size of a duffel bag. I have to take it anywhere I plan to be for more than four hours, or risk a certain case of titpainitis. If you don't know what I am talking about, go ask the nearest mommy that you know.

    I Digress.

    Let me give you a little bit of a back story here. I have to pump every four hours twenty four hours a day. I have set up a little pumping station on my bed, so every four hours, I lug the baby up into the master bedroom and pump away. So here, on my nightstand is this duffle-bag sized motor of milk sucking genius, and as anything that large and permanent, it collects odds and ends of randomosity. How do I say this without being gratuitous? Hurummmm.....

    After a particularly inventive night, my husband had gone out to purchase a toy, the kind of toy that you really arent supposed to talk about in public and certainly not write about, but I have no shame, so here we go. A tiny little silver bullet looking thing, that has been in the box  since it came home that one fateful night, along with the ear to ear cheeseball grin from my overly-excitable husband.
    Needless to say, the toy was tucked into the innards of my catch-all super sleek breastpump.

    *Sigh*

    So there I was, sitting on my sisters bed talking to her and her husband while she inspected the breastpump in length. She is going to be buying her own and wanted to see how mine worked so it worked well that I had brought it along, she hooked up her own chords and used the pump herself. As she looked in and out of the pockets my sharp eye gleaned right onto the little silver bullet poised curiously in a corner pocket a short distance from her roaming fingertips. No it had not been used.... yet, but even if I told her that, she wouldnt have believed me, just imagine the look she would have on her face when she realized what she was holding, i just couldnt let that happen. I snatched the bag out of her hands, shocked at how abrupt I was to her. She didnt seem to notice, and conversation flowed as usual.

    I came home to tell the story to my husband.

    Blah blah blah.... toy in the bag.....cant believe Im such a doofus....blah blah....

    "Well did she see it?" He asks me, imploring about the toy.

    "Honey, she USED it!" answering him about the PUMP.

    My husband proceeded to turn a dark shade of green, like he was going to systematically puke and shat himself all at once. He throws his head down onto the pillow when it dawns on me that I had just misconstrued a statement so horribly, that I made my husband sick. I thought for a moment he might die.

    What have I learned from this lesson today?

    Simple.

    Sex toys are fun, but not for the whole family.



    Alright, talk amongst yourselves.




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