Susan is now the mother of two teenagers.
She can't get by anymore with the ambiguous reference to medium sized children. Alas.
The thirteen year old girl spends her days reclining in front of a fan reading. Or drawing. All day. A summer's worth of glorious leisure time to jump in the pool and pal around with friends and paint her toenails and play with the dog.
Her fifteen year old boy has a gig as an unpaid camp counsellor which he takes very seriously; getting up & out on time and dressing like a pirate when mandated. It's his third summer as such, he calls it going to work, Susan reminds him that one can't call it work if one doesn't get paid. It's the same thing she sez to her self-employed husband.
If the kids are getting older then Susan's getting older too. She's adjusted pretty well to her advancing decrepitude. She just needs to know that somewhere out there is somebody older than her.
She really didn't get it together until she became a working mother. Her five years as a stay at home mom mixed pleasure with depression and loneliness. Being forced to return to work with small children made her figure out how to get stuff done. That notwithstanding, she's still lazy and not too smart about some things and erupts easily over nonsense and never met a magazine that she didn't want to keep stacked in a corner and would rather go to sleep than meet her marital responsibilities.
And, speaking of working mothers; poor JLo, eh?