I have been BUSY! Keeping two tween-agers occupied isn't as easy as it looks. And with them around, there's more cooking and cleaning to do or else we spend the day going out and spending money. Oh how I long for the days when a trip to the park or the beach or a bike ride was sufficient. Not anymore.

Of course, I didn't see much of them in the first few days after school let out. Son had his bezzie mates round for a sleepover, then he went to another sleepover at one of the mate's. Then he spent half a day at home. Then another friend came over and spent the night. Daughter went to a friend's on Saturday night, was home Sunday, went shopping with another friend Monday and a sleepover that night at a schoolfriend's. Then Tuesday I took them and two friends shopping and to the cinema to see Harry Potter (fantastic!).

Here's the difference between boys and girls. At my son's sleepover and the one he went to, the boys played games and swam in his friend's pool. At the sleepover my daughter went to, the girls sat around telling each other their worst faults.

Maybe it's a 12-year-old thing. I seem to recall doing that too, with disastrous results for the friendship. Daughter's school friends did this at the last sleepover they went to as well. That resulted in some hurt feelings on the part of one girl. I know that because I am friends with the mother of that girl. I took the mother to lunch for her birthday last week, and she proceeded to tell me all about her daughter crying and feeling left out, etc. If I don't sound very sympathetic, it's because I'm not. This particular girl dumped my daughter two weeks into the school year. I didn't repeat anything my daughter had told me about the girl. I did say 12-year-old girls can be incredibly bitchy. I did say my daughter had also gone through a rough patch earlier in the year when nobody was calling her. I am fairly confident that information was passed on.

At this week's sleepover, Daughter asked the girl why she had quit calling her. Now here's where I get really pissed off. The girl's reply was that she thought Daughter had started acting bigheaded and she wanted to teach her a lesson so she quit having much to do with her! This from the child who boasts about her father's Porsche, her expensive new bedroom, the expensive holidays her family goes on. So Daughter tells me what the girl said and my voice starts to get really loud and indignant and Daughter starts to get defensive and won't tell me anymore. So I calm down and ask her if she thinks that was fair of the girl to say. She said she thought it was, and that maybe she hadn't been such a good friend to the girl.

I said no more and have not brought it up since. But I am incensed! I think Daughter is afraid of losing friends and so will put up this little madam for the sake of peace. The only thing that consoles me is that I doubt this relationship will last much longer than another school year, if that. I wish I could tell Daughter that women don't do this sort of thing to each other, that they grow out of it. But we all know that isn't true, don't we. Women are each other's best friends and worst enemies. I have wished many a time that I had a man's emotional makeup. I sometimes envy men their ease in keeping conversation on a surface level. Still, they have their problems too, don't they. There are still the Wannabe Alpha Males jostling for superiority in sport, cars, and women. And the men who will not show one iota of emotion. And the ones who are from Mars and other planets.

I'd put a 12-year-old girl up against them anyday. I know who would win.

Oh Poo Hoo Hoo

Peace and quiet for the moment!! Much needed after a day spent at one of those adventure playgrounds that are a health and safety nightmare. The goal for many of the urchins there today was to see how muddy they could get. When my friend R. and I gently reminded our lot not to get too muddy, one dad commented rather loudly that that's what they're there for. Bet he doesn't do the laundry. His boys were the shoeless ones. I wondered how long it would be before one of them bloodied his toe or worse.

Now you would think after a day spent running around in the hot sun, getting filthy, and sweating profusely, these children would want to sleep on the way back. You would think wrong. They entertained themselves with a game, What Would You Rather Be? My son's contribution was "What would you rather be, a man who shoveled poo for a living and made a lot of money or a woman who worked in an office but didn't make much money?" And "What would you rather be, a man with poo on his shoes or a woman who wore high heels?" And "What would you rather be, an animal's poo or an insect's wee?" Do you think he has a bit of obsession?

On the whole, today was much better with my daughter than yesterday. Sometimes she can speak to me in such a condescending tone of voice that I almost want to slap her. After reminding her several times that I didn't like her tone of voice, I went upstairs. My son followed and we had a lovely cuddle. After he went to bed, I called down to my daughter to go to bed. She came in my room a few minutes later and said her curtains had come off the rail. Let's go back a couple of hours when I was at my neighbour's sharing a bottle of wine. Now I didn't particularly feel like putting the curtains back on the rail but thought I'd better have a go. Alas, I was too short (I'm not short, just not tall enough) to reach the rail. And I swore, cried tears of frustration and lost my temper and said a few choice words to my daughter. See, while hubby is away, I try to take care of these domestic crises so I don't burden him when he is home. Also, he moans and groans and huffs and puffs, and I'd rather not hear it. So it was tears at bedtime again.

I awoke at 4 a.m. after another night sweat, let the cats out, then remembered what had happened between me and my daughter. I thought about the best way to tackle the problem. I could get the heavy ladder out and carry it up two flights of stairs. Or I could stack some books and stand on them. Which would be best? Well, I highly recommend the following: the Next catalogue, Argos catalogue, Beatrix Potter (complete stories) and Children's Thesaurus (never used before). I completed the job in no time, and not a tool was needed. When it had happened before, my daughter said hubby needed his tool box. And that, my friends, is the difference between men and women. Men always like to get their tools out, and women are quite happy to do without them.