Let's just go out to eat

For all of my over-analyzing, there are still some things in this world I can't figure out.

I can't wrap my head around the concept of wet nurses. I have boobs and I've had a child. I couldn't even breast feed the one I had, much less other people's children. I have boobs. In fact, I have boobs that are so large they're taking over the world. Take a quick peek out your windows and doors. My boobs have been known to try and slip under the door jam. Anyway, my point is---these things must just be for show.  (Though not TOO many people have seen them.... I wouldn't want you to think I'm scandalous.)  When it came time for these mammary glands to function, they just weren't having it. Yes, even my boobs are lazy. So how in the world does the whole constantly flowing boob thing work? I found I had zero control over the matter. I wasn't able to make this happen. In my mind I see some wet t-shirted super hero woman saying "Boobs On" and they cooperate.  I was never so relieved as the day when we returned all those pumps and gadgets. I accepted defeat and mixed the formula. And that gentle reader, is how Soy Roy was fed as a wee babe.

Why in the world am I thinking of this now? My youngest is almost 8 years old. I'm not planning to need to nurse any more babies. Well, I just got back from grocery shopping. I've started a new eating plan and it required an amazing amount of fresh food. I have visions of spending Far too much time in my kitchen. But perhaps it will be worth it. Maybe I will grow to love preparing every consumable bite. (hear the doubts?) I have the 8 yr old, a 15 yr  old and a 38 yr old. pack of locusts. You heard me. I do not have family. I have locusts. They will terrorize my kitchen and undo all of my efforts at meal planning, having the proper ingredients, and sticking to my new plan. They will manage to destroy my system and my resolve in seconds flat. There must be some sort of solution to this unending frustration.  So who wants to be the wet nurse?