Ever heard of the seven-year itch?
You know, that critical juncture in every long-term relationship where you're supposed to re-evaluate what you have and figure out whether or not you're going to continue?
Maybe your well-meaning nana warned you about it on your wedding day, or your heart-broken best friend dropped the bomb after one too many bottomless margaritas the moment her divorce was finalized.
Whatever the case may be, the jury seems to be out on whether or not the itch is a real thing.
That said, as the sun rose this morning, welcoming in my seventh year of marriage, I waited for it. The itch. Was it coming?
Glancing around my dimly lit bedroom, I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. There wasn't a blossoming bouquet of freshly picked roses sitting on my bedside table. There was no breakfast in bed, or neatly wrapped presents, or even a long, handwritten sentiment waiting for me.
Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Romantic, isn't it?
So I did what I do every morning. Groggily said good-bye to my husband as he went off to work, fed the baby, made breakfast for the pre-schooler, and went about my day as though it were not special in any way, shape, or form.
I should have been angry, right? Perhaps...a little itchy?
But the truth is, that can't-eat, can't-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, World Series kind of love died out loooong ago. I now allow my husband to see me without makeup on and even kiss him with my coffee-tinged morning breath. The honeymoon phase was great and l'll cherish it forever, but it did what it was supposed to do...
Ran its course. Then gracefully stepped aside for the next stage of life.
Now to some (particularly those in much newer relationships), I understand that this may sound like a fate worse than death. But my oh my, believe me when I say it's such a blessing!
Because while the honeymoon phase is fun, the real love grows in the moments that come after.
Through childbirth and raising kids. Jobs and moves. Gains and losses. Highs and lows.
My heart may not skip a beat at the thought of his touch like it did in those early years, but it certainly flutters on the most mundane of occasions. Like when I come home to the sounds of hysterical baby giggles and find him tickling little toes. Or when he treks out in the snow to warm up the car before I get in. And, especially, when he leaves me the last couple cups of coffee in the pot each morning.
So, no, I don't think I really feel "the itch" that everyone has warned me about. But if I did, I think I'd be just fine.
Because in addition to being an excellent husband...
He's also an incredible back-scratcher.