We had a handyman come out to the house once to look at our downstairs lights. It seemed like there was always at least one bulb in our light fixtures that was always out, no matter how often we replaced our lightbulbs. I was tired of feeling like a cave dweller in half-lit rooms and was sure it was some wonky wiring job that needed to be fixed.
The handyman looked at our fixtures after having the problem explained to him and said "Where are your kids' rooms in relation to the lights that keep going out?" Puzzled, we answered directly above them. He said that was our problem. Our girls are so dang rambunctious that their constant jumping, stomping and horse-playing was breaking the filaments in our lights.
And people say it's the boys that are rough on things.
I just sent the girls upstairs to get jammies on and teeth brushed...it literally sounds like a herd of wild buffalo are running recklessly through the halls; stomping, jumping, yelling and loud-talking. On nights where Justin is gone, like tonight and what seems like so many other nights, where I am running this ship all alone while buffalo gals run amok, I get tired at the sheer responsibility that my life requires of me. But then I can't help but think that it will all be over before I am ready for it to be. When responsibility will wane and these halls and stairs will grow quiet. When lightbulbs will glow, undamaged by the ruckus and I will wish for the days that the sands of time didn't slip between my tired hands.
So tonight, I will grasp this moment. I will gather my fading energy. I will muster another push of patience and I will go hug and kiss my wild, rambunctious, wonderful, little herd of buffalo gals.