Brain too full...must spill contents...

Ever get that feeling? Now that I no longer have my mother's helper - the why is simply too boring to explain - I have been spending a lot of time in the undiluted company of my sons. I actually find it easier to keep them happy and Get Things Done when I don't have to worry about anyone else as well. I am the type who likes to make sure the people involved in my life are all happy, and as content as they can be. Therefore, when I did a get-out-of-the-house-and-go-to-the-coffee-shop thing with the mother's helper around, I invariably took her and the boys with me. That way, the guys could have a nap, then be stimulated by the enthralling sights of the local Starbucks and the mother's helper (I should call her MH to save me from having to type "mother's helper" over and over...too late.) could have a coffee too. Which I would buy, because I want everyone to like me. See? It's boring.

At any rate, I have not had a lot of adult conversation lately, except for the Monday playgroup, the Tuesday library group, the IM-ing (is that right? or is it IMing, with no hyphen?) with my fellow blogger "Lil", the stream of phone calls I make to my dear sister and the Friday playgroup. It sound like a veritable whirl of gaiety, but, as all those stay at home parents out there can attest, the hours from 12 to 5 can be mighty long when there is not another grown up anywhere in sight. Or within yelling distance. Or within screaming distance either.

Therefore, my brain has been a bit cluttered with snippets of conversations I thought clever and interesting thoughts that just need to get out before, like animals caught in a trap, they chew off a paw to escape. Here are a few random thoughts.

My dear husband, with the sketchiest of instructions whispered to him by me, a woman very busy nursing two groggy babies, made the most deliciuos mushroom risotto for dinner, and I just had to tell everyone about it.

I had a conversation at the gym the other night about nursing, and my interloquator referred to lactating breasts as "The Happy Factory."

I mailed some pictures to a friend in JoJa, who knew me when I was 140 pounds of nubile single girl, with hair down past my shoulders. Not only does she like me with boy short hair, she also (bless her heart!) remarked that I didn't look fat at all. Can I have an Amen?

I heart e-Bay. I just won an auction for my beloved sleep-in-a-jar Creme de la Mer at a price $20 less than I've paid at Saks. Rock. On. My only question is; where do these people get this stuff and how can they sell it for under retail value? Do they work for La Mer, get their gratis every six months, and then sell it? Do they steal it from the store? Do I care? Not really, I'm just curious.

Why do the British have to make it all so difficult? Are they still flagellating themselves for losing America, Australia, Canada, India, Hong Kong and a chunk of Africa? Don't fret lads, the sun had to set on you fellows sometime. Quality Street Chocolates have the total number of KiloCalories and Joules of energy listed for the whole packet, as well as the number of calories per 100 grams of chocolate, but no indication as to how big a serving should be, or how many candies are in 100 grams. I made it easy to know how many KiloCalories I had consumed because, basically, I ate the whole box, but still.

Have you ever seen those floss head things? The one I saw promised to Take the Hassle out of Flossing. If you think fresh breath, healthy teeth and a clean, white smile are not worth the thirty seconds it takes to floss the old fashioned way, then no Reach Access daily Flosser, now in five colors! will ever make flossing easy enough for those who just don't like to do it.

Have you been here? As I undressed to get ready for bed, and a piece of dried apricot fell out from where it was trapped in the waistband of my jeans. Not only did I think, "Ah, a snack," but I also put it in the pocket of the jeans, in case I got hungry later.