It's Labor Day and on this subject, I have been trying to figure out how to adequately describe the importance of the food supply in my house of men. Due to the number of man-boys (five) and their unusually high rates of metabolism, I always felt like my single most important job as a mother was "gatherer of groceries". I once snapped a pic of the third son home from high school, standing in front of the open fridge with backpack, jacket, gloves, and snow boots on. That's how desperate he was to confirm his snack.

This weekend, we all traveled together up north. My parents came too. My mother, who survives on Tic Tacs and vodka tonics, was freshly shocked at their locust-like behavior. She unloaded the dishwasher twenty times in three days. By the year 2200, someone will have developed a quick test to measure rates of metabolism and I will finally get my due as the woman who fed the five highest metabolisms for twenty years without losing her marbles.