What's the score? or Counting on my fingers: A tale of ten toes.

Wow! What a day we had yesterday. So much happened, good and bad both.

I'd ordered the husband's Father's Day present earlier this week. I got him a GPS, something he's wanted for years. They're expensive though and it's a huge amount for us to spend, especially this month, when things are tight. So, naturally I procrastinated getting it, looking desperately for somewhere to get it for less. No luck, so I finally bought it online, only to find out I'd waited too long and it wouldn't get here until next week.

No. I wasn't happy with myself. An IOU on Father's Day isn't nearly as much fun as giving him a really cool present.

But Hooray! What have we here? A UPS delivery! The GPS got here almost immediately. They couldn't have gotten here any faster if I'd arranged to have it beamed here, Star Trek style. One up for the Happy Day side.

Unfortunately I got another delivery, a juicer I'd gotten through a special group order with some people I know online. It's a $150 juicer that I got for $16. Super deal with just one slight drawback. Any problems are my problems. They assured us that each unit had been checked over and was in good working order though and everyone else has been happily reporting the fun they've been having as their juicers have arrived. So I was excited to see the box sitting on my porch when we got home after the park. Until I plugged it in and it wouldn't work.

Sigh. I was really looking forward to having a juicer, too.

One for the bad day side of the board.

The husband came home from work three hours early. He was in pain. Good to have his company early, bad that he was hurting so badly. He took some heavy duty medication and fell asleep on the bed until dinnertime.

One good, two bad.

Dinner went super well. I made a new recipe I'd gotten from Saving Dinner, something called Asian Coleslaw with Ginger Chicken. Yummy, yummy, yummy. The husband raved about it and even the girls liked it. Michael didn't care for it, but that just left more for the rest of us. The best part was when the husband told me it was even better than his mother's coleslaw! The entire time we've been married I've been hearing about his mother's coleslaw, how delicious it was when he was a boy, how she'd gotten the recipe from her mother, but then forgotten it after her sons had grown up and never been able to make it again. And this was even better? Well, I guess I know what's going on our permanent dinner roster.

Tied at three each.

The biggest event of the day was the park. I think I figured out what happened a couple of weeks ago when Arielle was so sad and wanted to go home early. There were two girls there that she kept trying to play with who were Queen Bees in training. Oh, it was heartbreaking to watch her standing there on the fringes of the group of kids, trying so hard to engage them, only to be ignored.

I couldn't think what to do to help her. (When we went home I ordered The Unwritten Rules of Friendship: Simple Strategies to Help Your Child Make Friends to avoid having that happen again!) While I was thinking, though, the situation changed dramatically. The larger group broke up, leaving Arielle and two little girls her age. It quickly became apparent they were the ringleaders of her exclusion.

She kept pleading with them to let her play and they would look at her and laugh. As she came closer to them they would squeal, "She's coming!" and run away. This kept being repeated until Arielle was in tears, at which point I lost my temper.

I called Arielle over to me and in a voice loud enough to be heard by the two little witches (who had followed her over and were lurking within earshot) told her not to play with those two girls anymore.

Arielle started sobbing louder, trying to tell me these were her friends and she had to apologize to them so they would play with her. I explained to her (still in the same carrying voice) that these girls were not her friends, that they were mean and that although they looked like big girls they were babies inside because big girls were kind and thoughtful and only very immature people were mean. I told her we'd find her some kids to play with that were big girls inside too and that she shouldn't have anything more to do with those mean girls. She was much better than them, because she knew how to be nice.

Well, nothing like forbidden fruit. They edged closer, very interested in playing with Arielle all of a sudden. Now, lest I sound like some social genius I'm not, let me point out I didn't anticipate that. I was just so furious that I really wanted those girls to know what I thought of them. Yeah, I know. Not terribly mature of me.

It worked out well, though. Arielle kept begging to play with them and they were peering out at us from behind a bench, so I put on a big show of reluctance and told her she could play with them, but if they were mean to her again she would have to stop playing with them. And off all three of them went.

For a few minutes at least. Then Arielle ran into another little girl, one who was not into manipulation through intimidation and they wound up playing quite happily the rest of the time we were at the park.

Later Arielle and I had a good talk about mean people and why they act that way. I think she got something out of it. I hope so. I'll keep working on it.

So that was good and bad, about equal again. At least I was able to figure out what was happening at the playground.

Final score? Tiring. All those ups and downs are wearing!