There’s nothing quite as embarrassing as this.
We all know that nightstand drawers hold a sacred status. They’re meant for private items, not just any undergarments, but rather things that serve a specific purpose. Let’s be real: they house our intimate items.
These drawers are the designated spot for essentials like condoms, lube, and handcuffs—whatever might inspire us in this age of risqué literature. (I haven’t read it, but do I need to be aware of something like jumper cables?) Regardless, they often conceal a woman’s most cherished companion: her vibrator.
I’m open about having a couple of vibrators.
For a time, I fancied myself a sort of Vibrator Fairy. On my sister’s 21st birthday, I sent her a delightful care package that included, you guessed it, a vibrator. The sales associate at a well-known shop on the Lower East Side suggested a friendly introduction piece, which is why my sister welcomed adulthood with a cute, buzzing, pink bear.
I even mailed a vibrator internationally once! After finishing college, my best friend traveled to South Korea to teach English alone. She didn’t speak the language and assumed romance was off the table for a while. So, as any good friend would do, I went vibrator shopping! I found her a small, vibrant, hot pink dildo named “Buzzy Buddy.” She adored her new companion, joking about taking him out for drinks or accessorizing him with a fun hat. Had Instagram been around, Buzzy Buddy would have had his own account filled with snapshots of his adventures.
This is generally how I view sex and its accessories—playfully.
Sex can be fun and humorous; these topics rarely bring me embarrassment. Until something happened that shattered the line between Mom Jenna and the woman I used to be.
As a stay-at-home mom, I spend my days with my 18-month-old son, while my 5-year-old is at school. My little one is my constant companion. One morning while I was attempting to brush my teeth, he wandered into our bedroom.
Currently, he’s in a phase where he finds immense joy in opening things. He began with my dresser drawers before making his way to my nightstand. Distracted and half-paying attention, I noticed him opening the drawer and rummaging around with his tiny fingers. I didn’t think he’d uncover what I had tucked away at the back. I was mistaken.
He emerged, triumphant, clutching my lavender vibrator. Stunned, I barely registered what he had before he held it to his ear and cheerfully exclaimed, “Hello! Hello!”
And that, my friends, was the day my child answered my vibrator.
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In summary, navigating motherhood often brings unexpected—and sometimes hilarious—challenges. It’s essential to embrace these moments, even if they include a mix-up between a beloved toy and an intimate item.