Fat, Italian grandmother I'm not

I've got a house fulla men who are working on the house, and because I can't help by doing anything manly (the bun hinders in that way) I am compelled to feed these guys. If they were just contractors, I wouldn't feel any deep-seated maternal instinct, but these are all my friends, and it's 95 degrees out, and for God's sake, they lifted our roof yesterday (Really. A whole six inches--the upstairs drywall looks like an earthquake hit just that room). So I made breakfast, went shopping, went shopping again, made sandwiches for lunch, and am whipping up some basic, wholesome Sicilian meat sauce for dinner. And I'm tired! I wanted to make them gumbo tomorrow, but sheesh, I don't know how those teeny little Italian women take care of their men folk all day, every day. It just goes to show that being maternal is gravely underrated hard labor. What with the standing and sweating and cooking and shopping and cleaning up after everything....I say women are really running the world and just letting men pretend they've got it all under control. Just to ease their fragile egos.

I'm just sayin' that this staying home thing? Harder than it looks.