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Seven Year Itch
LINDSAY BECS
Chapter One
STELLA
I startle awake with a jump as my three-year-old, Aiden, stands by my head, staring at me. Why do kids do that? It’s so freaking creepy, and yet, every single child does it.
A tired smile pulls on my lips, looking at his sleep-messed curls, just like his father’s. His thumb is in his mouth as he holds his most precious blanket against his head. His big blue eyes stare at me, but crinkle when he smiles back at me.
“What are you doing up?” I whisper.
“I got sirsty,” he whispers back around his thumb.
Pulling the covers back, I slip out of bed, scooping Aiden up as I go to get him a drink. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s four in the morning and groan internally. I’m not getting back to sleep now.
Aiden drinks his water, and I make him go to the bathroom while we’re up. He’s been staying dry at night for the last four days, and I’m hoping that means we’ve made some headway in the potty-training area.
Tucking him back in bed, I kiss his soft brown curls. “Go back to sleep now, silly. I love you.”
“I wuv you more san my firetwuck.”
Kissing him once more, I back out of his room, and right on cue, little Miss Sassy Pants starts fussing. Yep, sleep is officially gone.
Eight-month-old Katy was a little bit of a surprise for us. We hadn’t ruled out having another baby, but we weren’t sure either. She’s given me a run for my money though. Being our third child, we thought we knew what we were doing, but she has shown us we know nothing.
“And what do you want, little miss?” I quietly ask her, walking to her crib and lifting her out. After a diaper change, we make our way downstairs. I prepare a bottle, and she eats while I try to keep my eyes open.
She’s usually up for a little bit before she’ll calm down enough to go back to bed, and by the time she does, it’s almost six. Instead of going back to bed myself, I start the coffee pot, knowing that Nolan will be up soon for work.
Wrapping myself in my favorite fleece blanket, I curl up on the couch and turn on Good Morning America, dozing in and out until I feel Nolan kiss my head. “Hey,” I whisper sleepily up to him.
“I didn’t even hear you get up or any of the kids. I’m sorry,” he says with a slight frown. “How long you been up?”
“Since four,” I say through a yawn, stretching my arms above my head.
His fingers comb through my hair and it feels good, making me hum and close my eyes from his touch I miss so much. We don’t get much time to be intimate anymore. The quick moments like this are what I live for these days.
“Try to get a nap today,” he tells me innocently enough, but he has no idea how much that will never happen.
By the time he leaves for work, Vanna, our five-year-old, is walking downstairs. “Morning, Vanna Banana.”
“Good morning, Mommy!” she sing-songs in her usual morning cheer. Thank goodness for this little girl who always wants to help me. Lord knows I can always use it with one of her siblings.
She snuggles with me on the couch for a little bit until we hear the thud of Aiden sliding down the stairs on his butt. Once he reaches the bottom, he runs over and jumps on top of us in a fit of giggles.
Our morning goes on with our usual routine. Breakfast, get Vanna ready for school, attempt and fail at naps, lunch, drop Aiden off for pre-school, and then do errands before picking up the older kids, making dinner all while trying to get the house clean and laundry done somewhere in the middle.
At one point in the day, I glance at my reflection in the mirror and shake my head in disgust. No wonder my husband works so much and doesn’t touch me very often. I’m wearing the token yoga pants and stained tee. My hair is a mess on top of my head, and my face is free of makeup, showing off the dark circles under my eyes that showcase how tired I am.
I used to care about what I looked like and was even considered attractive. Now, not so much. I don’t think I’ve even washed my hair in three days.
Nolan and I were high school sweethearts. At this point, it feels like we’ve been together forever. We married young, and Vanna was an anniversary present I wasn’t expecting from him. After that, I just kept popping out babies it seems like.
I’m blessed that I get to stay home and raise our kids. It’s what I always wanted, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t wish for other things some days. Or even dream of having a break every now and then.
What I’ve learned through the years is that moms don’t get a break. We are working 24/7 and then pulling overtime, making some days feel like they extend past their time of expiration. There is no rest for the weary. Trust me, I know. But, I wouldn’t change it.
