Hashtag Blessed

Story Info
Behind the camera, things aren't so picture perfect.
10.5k words
4.75
31k
43

Part 4 of the 7 part series

Updated 05/17/2023
Created 01/10/2021
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

Author's Note:

Sierra makes being a mom look flawlessly simple, but it usually takes 10-20 pictures to capture that effortless look. Behind the scenes, things in her Insta-worthy life aren't as easy as they seem. When the power goes out, it's up to Sierra and her husband Drew to keep their three boys calm.

This story is part of the When The Lights Go Out universe. These stories do not need to be read in any particular order; they all revolve around the same event and have some connections, but are stand alone pieces. You can find a list of included stories in my bio.

**

"Mommy, can we please just eat the ice cream?"

"Give me one more great big smile and then you can dig in, okay?" I said, taking a step back from the table.

Grayson sighed and plastered a smile on his face.

"Come on, Aiden, you too," I said.

The photo wasn't framed quite right. As Aiden smiled, I took one more step back, crashed into someone, and yelped as I clicked the shutter button on my phone. The moment I did, Grayson cringed, Aiden's eyes widened, and Jack—only two, so not quite as understanding of the picture-perfect moment as my other boys were—shoved his face into the cone of soft serve.

I was sure the boys thought I would be upset that I didn't get the picture. The truth was that I didn't have the capacity to mourn the loss of my Insta-worthy photo-op. I was too busy being distracted by the arm that slid along my lower back and the hand that cupped my ass. Without even looking, I knew who I had crashed into.

"Let go of me," I said icily.

Don Rivers, the town slimeball, feigned offense. "I was just keeping you from falling, Sierra."

His hand did not leave my ass.

"You're groping me," I hissed. "If you don't think I'll cause a scene right here, right now—"

Don pulled his hand away and raised his arms defensively. "I was just making sure a nice lady who bumped into me didn't fall. I was not groping you. You're the one who ran into me."

"You touched my—" I lowered my voice, though I knew my boys could still hear me "—ass."

"Oh, it was just a little bump, it wasn't like—"

"My daddy says that the good guys don't touch girls without their permission," Grayson said loudly. "He says that only the supervillains do something so gross. Are you a good guy, Mr. Rivers?"

Don's mouth fell open. I managed to keep mine shut, though I could feel eyes on me. There was only one ice cream shop in town, and on that unseasonably hot April day, The Hokey Pokey Ice Cream Parlour was packed. Praying that Alice McGrady wasn't anywhere nearby, I managed to maintain my composure.

"Wow, great thanks I get for helping a lady out," Don finally said, glaring at my son.

"Yes, you get a child telling you that you shouldn't touch people inappropriately even if you say you're helping them," I said.

"Leave her alone, Don."

I looked over to see the tall, skinny man who worked at the gas station next door standing in line, glaring at Don. He had curly hair and thick eyebrows, and his arms were folded across his chest.

"What was that, Austin?" Don said, raising his eyebrows. "You got a problem, kid?"

"Oh, shut up," said Frank DeBlanco.

He was sitting at a nearby table with his daughter... Kate. Katie? Maybe it was Katrina. I should have known her name. She was a year older than Grayson, but they'd been in the school production of Peter Pan together and she had played Tinkerbell and Grayson had been a Lost Boy... oh, what the hell was her name, and more importantly, why did I think it mattered so much in that moment?

Don looked from Frank back to Austin, then threw up his hands. "You try to do a nice thing for someone..."

I let out a shallow breath as he began to slink away and smiled gratefully at Frank and Austin, then returned to the table with my boys.

"Sorry, Mom," Grayson said quietly as I sat across from him.

I looked at him, confused.

"For what?"

Grayson glanced at his brothers guiltily. "That we didn't get the picture, and that I made everyone stare at us."

I wished later that I could say I realized I'd been going too far. I wished the fact that my oldest son felt bad for standing up to a bully like Don Rivers, a man forty-some years older than him, was what made me see the effect I was having on my family. I wished I'd figured out how much damage I was doing by trying to have a Pinterest-perfect life, by not letting my boys just eat the ice cream and feeling joy at their joy, rather than trying to capture a picture of their fake-joy.

I didn't, though, not at that moment.

I wasn't a complete monster; I recognized the magnitude of what Grayson had done, and my heart was swollen with pride as he parroted the lessons my husband, Drew, and I had taught him. I reached across the table and squeezed his hand.

"We'll get a picture another time," I said. "A perfect excuse for more ice cream, right?"

He nodded.

"And what you did was very brave," I added quietly. "Proud of you."

Grayson smiled but didn't say anything, just dug into his ice cream and tried to catch up with his brothers, who were already nearly done. I watched them enjoy the treat through the screen of my phone, hoping one of the photos I snapped would be worth posting on my feed, and tried to shake off the uneasy feeling Don had given me.

When the three of them finished devouring their ice cream, Grayson helped Aiden clean up, but Jack's vanilla-coated face needed more attention than his brother could provide. I straightened my dress and made sure my straw hat was tilted at the right angle before I got up to grab napkins from the counter.

Frank DeBlanco was behind me when I turned to go back to my table. Over his shoulder, I could see Grayson trying to stop Jack from smooshing ice cream between his fingers.

"You all right, Sierra?" Frank asked.

I nodded, smiling a practiced smile at him. "I am. Thank you for your help, Frank."

"You wanna... I dunno, report him or something?" Frank asked. "I saw him... I know it wasn't an accident."

My smile tightened.

"I think it becomes a case of 'he said, she said,'" I replied. "I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll just, um... you know. Forget about it. Excuse me, my son is about to become part soft-serve if I don't get him cleaned up right away."

I'm sure Frank thought I was being stupid by not reporting Don for groping me, but Frank didn't understand. Most men didn't. Reporting Don would require me going to the police station, submitting myself to a ton of embarrassing questions, and having some officer look at me skeptically at the end of it as he asked if I was sure Don meant to grab me on purpose. It would have to wait until Monday, and I'd have to get a babysitter for Jack, since it would have to be during business hours, and for what? For a report that would get filed away at best and never submitted at worst?

It just wasn't worth it.

I cleaned up Jack's face, then lifted him onto my hip and took Aiden's hand. We left the comforting chilliness of The Hokey Pokey and ventured back into the hot humidity of the day. I could see Don standing by the entrance of the gas station next door as I crossed the parking lot. If he saw me, he didn't do anything, but I stared straight ahead and walked just fast enough that Aiden complained about the speed.

We were halfway down Minwack Drive and only a few minutes from home when the wind picked up so suddenly and blew so fast that my hat flew off.

"No!" I cried as the straw brim parted from my head.

Grayson jumped at it, trying to catch it, but it was far over his head. My hair whipped into my face as I watched it fly away, cringing as it tumbled through the air and out of sight.

"We can find it!" Grayson said.

I shook my head, then shook it harder so my hair was out of my eyes.

"Let's get home," I said. "I think it's going to storm."

The wind pushed us from side to side as we rushed down Minwack Drive and tried to press us backward as we turned onto Beaconsfield Boulevard. The skirt of my dress was no longer a skirt; the middle of it was between my legs, turning the flowy fabric into a makeshift sort of pants. At least it wasn't blowing up my skirt, I thought, just in time for the wind to change and blow up my skirt.

I gasped and let go of Aiden's hand, shoving the fabric down desperately with one hand while I still held Jack with the other. Cursing the fact that I hadn't brought the stroller, instead intent on a picturesque walk as I held my toddler, I almost started to cry. The feeling worsened when I heard Aiden giggle.

"Mommy, your underwear is showing."

"I realize that," I said sourly. "Hold your brother's hand. Now."

He stopped giggling and gripped Grayson's outstretched palm. We didn't speak the rest of the way home, which was thankfully only a few minutes away.

The smallest amount of luck was on my side; we were all safely in the house before it began to rain. And it rained. There were no warning sprinkles, no light drops to give people a few minutes to seek shelter. One moment it was dry, and the next a sheet of water was rushing down from the darkened sky. Twenty minutes earlier, there was barely a cloud in sight. Now, it was so dark I had to flick the foyer light on.

I put Jack down so I could take off his shoes. As soon as his feet hit the floor, lightning flashed across the sky and a crack of thunder followed less than a second later, shaking the house.

Aiden screamed, Grayson jumped, and Jack froze, staring at me with his big blue eyes. He seemed to process the loud noise and his brothers' reactions, and then began to wail.

I tried to smile. That was just life, right? Just mom things, you know, the insanity and the tears and smiles and all of that, that was just life. It was crazy and beautiful, or at least, that's what the hand-painted wooden signs decorating my front entranceway would have people believe. Embrace the chaos, they proclaimed, and Welcome to our home: excuse the mess, the children are making memories!

There was no real mess, though, because messes weren't pretty, and I wanted to have a pretty life. As for the chaos, well. There was plenty of it, and that day was no exception. I took off my shoes and tried to flatten my hair before lifting Jack back up. I pointed Aiden and Grayson in the direction of the kitchen so they could check their homework charts and chore charts and gratitude charts, then tried my hardest to comfort Jack.

Unfortunately, there was only one thing that would comfort him. I knew it would make him stop crying; I knew it would settle him faster than anything else in the world, but at what cost?

I tried to avoid it. I tried everything I could. I thought I had him for a moment, but then the thunder roared again and hot tears streaked down his chubby cheeks. The clock on the other side of the room was ticking; I had to get supper started. So I did it. I settled Jack on the couch, grabbed the remote, and pulled up the Star Mountain episode of Dora the Explorer for the seventeenth time that day.

And no, I wasn't exaggerating.

His tears evaporated as soon as the theme song came on. He giggled, and moments later he was standing in front of the TV and singing along.

"D-D-Dora! D-D-Dora!"

The words would haunt me to my deathbed, I was sure of it.

Still, Jack stopped crying. Grayson had started on his spelling words and Aiden was eagerly reading one of his DragonMasters books so he could earn another sticker on his reading chart. I smiled proudly; DragonMasters was above his expected reading level. Both boys ignored me as I snapped a few pictures with my phone. I went to the kitchen, quickly picked, cropped, and filtered an ice cream photo and a homework photo, and uploaded them to Instagram with "#blessed" included in the description only half-ironically.

Ten minutes later, I was partway through making dinner when Aiden put his book down, moved away from the dining room table, and disappeared into the living room. Seconds later, Jack screeched.

"What the... Aiden?"

"Just watch a different episode, Jack!" Aiden yelled.

I stopped chopping carrots and rushed into the living room. Aiden was holding the remote control and Jack was jumping as he tried to snatch it away, screaming and crying. Dora was frozen on the screen, her dead, doe-like eyes wide and her mouth gaping open.

"Aiden!" I scolded, grabbing the remote. "It's just so he stops crying."

"Mom, please!" he begged. "I'm so sick of hearing it and it's making it hard to read."

"Well, get your headphones, then."

"Why can't Jack wear headphones and watch Dora?"

I sighed. "Because he's two."

Aiden frowned, folding his arms. "It's so unfair. He gets everything. You love Jack more than you love me and Grayson!"

"I love you all the exact same amount!" I said fiercely.

It was true. I loved them all equally. At that moment, though, I liked Aiden a little bit less than the others.

As soon as I had that thought, guilt rushed through me.

He was the most perceptive of my boys, and I think he realized I had thought something I didn't want to think. He looked up at me, eyes wide and brow furrowed, and I sighed.

"Let's let Jack watch it one more time," I said evenly. "Then you can have extra TV time tonight, okay?"

Just like that, Aiden's face brightened, though he looked suspicious.

"Promise?" he said.

"Promise," I replied. "You get one hour instead of half an hour. That's enough for two shows."

He glanced towards the kitchen. "Can Grayson have an hour too so we can watch together?"

How was I supposed to say no to that? He was asking to share his TV time with his brother. Sighing, I nodded, and hoped Drew would understand when he got home. The TV-time rule was only in place because the boys had fought with him a few months earlier about bedtime. Drew didn't make a lot of rules—he was by far the more easygoing parent—so when he did, those rules were set in stone.

Unfortunately, I hadn't been fast enough to turn Dora back on. As I was negotiating with Aiden, Jack's tantrum had continued. When he realized he wasn't getting the attention he wanted, he stopped crying, marched into the dining room, tugged his pants and diaper off, and started peeing on the floor.

"Jack!" I heard Grayson shout. "Mom, he's peeing!"

I rushed out of the room, my chest clenching as I started to get overwhelmed, and got to Jack just as he finished peeing. He looked up at me, his eyes large and defiant, and started crying again.

"You could have stopped him," I said to Grayson as kindly as I could.

"That's not my job," Grayson replied moodily.

I loved all my boys equally, but at that moment, I didn't really like any of them.

Supper was delayed while I mopped piss off my dining room floor, settled my toddler back in front of the TV, and told my two older boys that they had to finish all their homework and reading and chores before they got their hour of TV time. Aiden tried to fight about that too, but Grayson grabbed his brother and said they'd work on their chores together.

At least on Instagram, my life looked glamorous.

I checked the clock as soon as I finished cleaning the floor and washing my hands. The casserole would take half an hour in the oven, and Drew would be home in ten minutes. It wasn't like he demanded dinner be on the table the moment he walked in the door, but that was our routine, and the boys needed routine in their lives. Frustrated, I opened a bottle of wine, poured a glass and snapped a photo of it beside the unbaked casserole before putting it in the oven, and posted it on Instagram.

Ice cream in the afternoons followed by sugar crashes and moody kids. Just one of those days! The ups and downs of #momlife

The "girl, same" and "omg so relatable" comments started almost immediately. I sipped the wine, the commiseration on my post working with the alcohol to keep me from crying. In the living room, the same episode of Dora started playing again.

"D-D-Dora! D-D-Dora!" shouted Jack.

I suppressed a sob as I scrolled through my Instagram feed, liking all the photos of family lives that were somehow more perfect than mine.

I was in the middle of typing a response to one of my followers when I heard the garage door open. I quickly posted it and finished my glass of wine in a single gulp. While I was rinsing the glass, everything went dark.

Blinking, I looked up. My eyes started to adjust to the dim light behind the rain-soaked windows and my ears adjusted to something so unusual, it took me a minute to name it.

Silence.

It was foreign in my house. Silence was not a thing that happened, not even at night. There was always someone crying or snoring, electronics were always humming, there wasn't a single moment of silence. This, though? It wasn't just a moment of silence; there were a few moments, long moments, moments where I knew my boys were about to realize that—

"Mom! Mom! The power is out!" shouted Grayson from upstairs.

In the living room, Jack started wailing.

I bolted through the dim light to the living room and picked him up, then went upstairs to find Grayson and Aiden. It wasn't nighttime dark, and our house had a decent amount of windows, but on a normal day, we would have had lights on. Grayson and Aiden were holding hands, both trying to pretend they weren't scared as they made their way into the hallway.

"Are you okay?" I asked as Jack screamed in my ear.

Grayson nodded, as did Aiden.

"Mommy, do you have a flashlight?" Aiden asked almost tearfully.

"Yeah, on my phone... oh," I said. "It's in the kitchen. Well, grab my hand and we'll go get it. And I heard Daddy come home, so he can help us find the big flashlights, okay?"

I expected Drew to be in the kitchen when we got there, but he wasn't. Frowning, I gave my phone to Aiden, told them to go to the living room, and walked to the back door. The rush of rain distorted the view as I looked out the window towards the garage, but I saw movement coming across the yard and stepped back.

Wind preceded his entry as he opened the door moments later. A blast of rain accompanied him, spraying along the floor before he managed to get the door shut. As soon as he had, he turned to me, his expression amused as I watched water drip from the tips of his ears and nose, his clothing soaked even though it was a short jaunt between the house and garage.

Drew grinned and held his arms up, then started forward.

"No, no, no, no no!" I exclaimed

He froze mid-step, one foot in the air and his mouth half-open in what I assumed was supposed to be a comedic expression.

I did not appreciate the comedy.

"You're going to drip everywhere," I said as evenly as I could.

My husband lowered his foot and gave me one of his "looks." One of those "Sierra, you're being neurotic again" looks. I folded my arms and glared at him.

"I just cleaned the floor," I said steadily. "And I'm not in the mood to deal with more of a mess. The boys are very upset and now the power is out."

"I'm aware of that," Drew said. "It went off while I was trying to close the garage door."

My face must have betrayed me because he smiled patiently.

"It's closed now," he said. "I got it down manually."

"You're soaked," I replied. "No dripping in the house."

"Since when was dripping against the rules?" he teased.

I glared at him. "It's a new rule. Strip."

"Damn, Sierra," he muttered. "The boys aren't even in bed yet."

Thunder crashed. Jack screamed even louder.

"Drew, please," I said, my voice cracking.

He finally seemed to realize I wasn't joking and held his hands up in surrender.

"Okay," he said casually. "I'll undress here."

"Thank you."