“You got it momma!” Shiloh responds as he unplugs the tub.
We spend the next half hour getting Shiloh ready for bed. We snuggle up in his bed and I read him two stories. He goes to the washroom one more time, says goodnight to his dad, before crawling back into bed. I quickly tuck him in and kiss his forehead.
“Okay my boy, what’s one last thing you want to share before momma shuts off the lights?” I ask him. This is a routine we have been doing for a few months now. We fought with bedtime while I was pregnant. Shiloh would constantly get up and fight going to bed.
He would come up with any excuse to stay awake, it wouldn’t matter how tired he was. I became so frustrated I took to the internet to try and figure out if there was something I could do.
That’s when I discovered I could make a to-do list chart. I would take the steps we do in our bedtime routine and put it on a chart. Everytime he would complete a task, he would put the velcrodonetag on that spot. This helped him visualize the routine for bedtime, and he knew once he got tolights out. That it was time to close his eyes and go to bed.
The last thing, I discovered when I was doom scrolling on facebook and came acrossdadchatsand he shared about how he lets his kid share one last thing before they go to bed. Allowing the kid to share what is on their brain.
“Mom, if I swallow a glow stick, will my belly turn into a nightlight or will I just become… legally a firefly?” Shiloh shares, before trying, and failing to stifle a yawn.
I open my mouth and shut it a few times, trying to not only comprehend what he just said, but also trying to formulate an answer, because what the hell?
“Uh…” my fingers ghost over my lips, if there were people in my head trying to find an answer they would be running around frantically with their arms in the air in panic as they try to find the answer. “You know what baby, I think momma needs a minute to think of an answer.”
He lays there, eyes heavy with sleep but still focused on me. “Okay,” He abruptly answers and rolls over, presenting his back to me. “Can you rub my back please?” Shiloh asks as he pulls the blanket up to his chin.
Shaking my head, I oblige. “Okay, but only for a couple minutes.” I sit on the edge of his bed as I rub circles along his spine. The sounds of his lullaby music playing softly in the background, gently caressing our ears, as he begins to drift off to sleep. When I hear the faint snores coming from his little body, I slowly extract myself off his bed, quietly stepping toward the door.
Just as I’m about to reach the door, my foot collides with a toy on the ground, the momentum sailing it across the room with a bang.
“momma, what are you doing?”
“Shit,” I whisper, I was almost free. I quickly turn around and make my way back to Shiloh.
Forty five minutes later, I appear in the living room. I decided after getting Shiloh back to sleep that I was going to get a shower in before Hayes woke up for his witching hour. He normally wakes up around ten p.m. for his last feed for the night. Often staying up for the hour, just taking in everything. I’m sure everything still looks like blurry blobs at this moment, but I adore watching those newborn blue eyes check everything out. His eyes have started to darken slightly, so I wonder if he’s going to take onMonty’s brown eyes.
Monty is currently splayed across the couch, he’s got the hockey game on. He’s got one of his fidget toys in his hand, knee bouncing consistently as he focuses on the game. Which means that his favorite team is playing right now.
He’s been a fan of the Tampa Manta Rays ever since Maverick Hart was drafted. Monty sits forward toward the tv, eyes following the puck as the other team gets closer to the net.
“Come on, come on, come on.” He mumbles, “block it!” he doesn’t raise his voice as much as he would love too. He has perfected cheering and yelling at the tv during these moments at a lower volume but still packing the punch of his enthusiasm. The forwards race closer to the net, passing the puck back and forth.
I walk up to the back of the couch and watch with anticipation. The forward makes his way around the net with the puck, there is a cocky smirk on his face, as he thinks he’s going to slip it in easily. They clearly underestimate the skill of the Manta Rays center, as he blocks the attempt with ease.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Monty whisper shouts, “fucker thinks he could sneak that by Maverick and get an easy goal? What an idiot.” He flops back onto the couch, and it’s then that he notices I’ve been standing there. His chocolate eyes light up, “well hey gorgeous,” he pats the spot next to him, “come sit and watch the rest of the game with me.”
I feel his eyes on me as I make my way to the spot beside him. A shiver runs down my body, before my skins begins to heat. After all these years my body still reacts the same when Monty’s eyes are on me. When I get to the couch however, I don’t sit down.
Instead I stand there, and I take in my husband. His head is resting on the back of the couch, a sly smirk on his face as his eyes trail my body. My chest expands with air as my eyes snag on his large hand as he trails it over his body, before resting it on his chest.
“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me, or are you going to sit your fine ass beside me and let me hold you?” Monty asks, snapping me out of my transfixation.
“I was thinking of something else” I reply, and before he can ask more I move forward. Placing one knee on either side of him slowly. I have been overall feeling better, but I know that I can’t overdo it. His hands slide up as he begins to knead my thighs.
“Well this ismuchbetter, I will admit.” He continues his ministrations on my thighs as my breathing picks up slightly. My lips pull up into a smile as I lean forward and press my lips against his. We spend the next couple minutes kissing like teenagers. His hand roams up as he cups my cheek lightly, before pulling his lips away from mine. His eyes bore into mine, and then we hear the siren go off on the tv behind us alerting us that there was a goal. Our eyes both widen before Monty tilts his head around me to see.
“Oh fuck!” He groans. I quickly climb off him and snuggle next to him as I look at the tv and catch the rerun of the other team scoring on the Manta Rays, tying up the game with only a couple minutes left of the third period.
We spend the rest of the hockey game watching the heated match as the Manta Rays battle for the final goal with seconds left of the game. Giving them the win and securing their spot in the rankings. Monty jumps to his feet and does a victory lap around the living room, causing my body to shake with laughter.
When he sits back down on the couch next to me we sit in silence as the highlights play in the background. I prepare myself to bring up what I want to say next. I don’t think he would have an issue with it, but it still doesn’t quell the anxiety.
“So, I wanted to talk to you about something.” I start.
“Uh oh, that could go one of two ways.” He states in a serious tone, but there is still a sparkle in his eye. Encouraging me to move on.
