Lightbulbs

I wish the boys weren’t scared of the dark. It would make my life much easier, I swear. We’ve been wandering from room to room for months now, it seems, to get away from the darkness and huddle under the light. At first it was the family room light - not too bad because you can always put on the t.v. and light some candles or something. And then it was the light in the downstairs bathroom, which gave me an excuse not to clean it for a few months. Don’t judge me. The boys wouldn’t go near it, especially little Jack and Nathan. In fact, they ran past it as fast as they could as though some invisible hand of darkness was going to reach out and suck them in. Little did I know that was, in fact, exactly what their older brothers had told them would happen. After that it was Callum and Ben’s bedroom light, but since the kids are always curled up in my bed, that didn’t make much of a difference. Then it was the light over the kitchen table - hmmm. That’s a tough one to ignore. So we just ate at the coffee table in front of the television. Then the upstairs bathroom. Pee in pairs. And finally, today, the epicentre of all rooms, the hub of our social itineraries, my bedroom.
“You’re going to have to change some light bulbs now Mom.” I believe the other boys had voted Callum official spokesman.
“I don’t think we have any…”
“We do too. Grandpa left some when he changed the lights for us last time.”
“I don’t know where they are.”
“I’ve got them right here - he left a club pack. That’s 12.” If there was better lighting, he would be backing down from my fierce maternal scowl.
The truth is, in my 31 years of life, I have never changed a light bulb. There - ha ha ha, I know. But I was a daughter, then a nanny, then a wife, basically. I had people for such things. And one thing I know about myself - I don’t learn well if I don’t care about what I’m doing. And I really don’t care about light bulbs.
“It’s okay, Mommy, we’ll help you.” Nathan used his sugary sweet voice.
“Yeah, we’ll hold the coffee table for you to stand on so you don’t fall.”
“I know, Ben. But Grandma and Grandpa are coming up soon, so…”
They said nothing, and it dawned on me that, to them, I should be able to do it all. That they had no ’people’ to do things for them, there is no back up plan in this house. It’s just me. I’m the only person they should have to look to, and how was I going to be able to pull off this whole single mom thing if I couldn’t even change a light bulb? Because this thing, being on my own with them in here and the world all around, is something I do actually want to learn to do well. So here goes, I’ll give up the next few hours and get cracking as best as I can. And I can always call my step dad to see if I’m doing it right.
“Okay, guys, which one should we do first?”
So, just out of curiosity, why didn’t anyone tell me that a second-rate chimp can change light bulbs? I feel like an idiot. The boys dutifully followed me around with fresh light bulbs and chubby fists out to take the old ones, all while holding on to the coffee table like it would snap under the pressure of my weight. I’m pleased to say it did not. And, as easy as it did turn out to be to change the lights, the rapturous applause I received when all was said and done was, indeed, the most illuminating part of my day. Tomorrow - hang pictures without using my ladle, possibly purchase hammer. That’s right, world, it’s all coming together.