Hurricane Zeta made landfall at our house late last night. We live inland, so the catastrophe here wasn’t as devastating as the folks who live right on the coast, but our yard is dense with trees. We have centuries old hardwoods mixed with Georgia Pines, and that combination mixed with rain and forty-mile per-hour winds is almost a guaranteed power outage. This morning when I woke at seven am, to the sounds of muffled voices and flashlights beaming through the dark house, I realized that once again we were out of power. I am a fairly organic girl and there are many luxuries I can temporarily live without: water, electricity, current weather alerts, but not being able to have my morning coffee? Now that’s a little rough. I have to admit that my morning pick-me-up is definitely on the high-needs essential list. I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes as I remembered that I ordered a two-hundred-and-fifty-watt mini portable generator on Amazon Prime Day a few weeks ago! I tripped over a pair of shoes before I was able to locate my glasses as I reached instead for the flashlight on my phone. I made my way over to the electric outlet I had it plugged the generator into and sat it proudly on the counter. In real life, the object was much smaller than it appeared online, but what the heck. I was ready to try out my new emergency survival toy. The cords behind the coffee pot were all tangled but after fishing around for a few seconds I was able to unplug the cord and stick it into the socket of the generator and flip the switch to “on.” I could already imagine the caffeine flowing through my veins and before I even got the coffee filter out, Senia Mae came around the corner and spotted the generator. “We have a generator?” she said with excitement. I stood there proudly, feeling like I was taking care of my family like any wilderness prepared Mama would. “Can we plug in the wi-fi?” “What?” I spat back at her. “I was going to use this for things that are necessary… like a cup of coffee or for plugging our phones in when they go dead.” “Netflix is kind of necessary,” Senia Mae said and I realized that gone were the days of us sitting in bed, snuggled up to each other shoulder to shoulder, while reading her favorite story. She was now a tween who had been sucked into the black hole of the internet. Who was I to say what was necessary and what should be considered “essential?” 

Some kids have meltdowns, some kids get grumpy, some get sleepy, others get hyperactive when life has pushed them past the time when they should really be in bed. Fortunately for us, Senia Mae has never been a fit thrower or tantrum raiser. She is, however, a tired kisser. When Senia Mae stays awake and dips into the bewitching hours, her reaction has always been to cuddle up to us, covering our faces with gentle kisses. I remember riding the tram back to the parking lot after an exhausting day at The Magic Kingdom. Many of the other younger children were screaming or acting belligerent, making their parents' memory of the happiest place on Earth a little less than magical. Senia Mae draped herself over my shoulder planting little pecks on my neck as she nuzzled her face into my hair. Although these tired kisses can get a little wet and drippy, if this is the worst behavior we get, we'll take it.

"Mama, can we go to Target?" Senia Mae asks as we pull out of the elementary school's parent pick up. "What do you need there?" "Some Valentine's decorations for my American Girl dollhouse. You know my girls need to be ready." "Of course they do," I say with sarcasm, "Um, Target is twenty minutes away. How about if we run through Walmart real quick? We are low on milk and we also need to pick up some cat food." "OK, Mama," she says, sitting happily in the back seat. We enter Walmart not on the grocery side but through the retail door because the "seasonal" promotions and pet sections are equally close. "Mama, look at THOSE costumes," Senia Mae excitedly shouts as she points to the rack that held the children's Halloween costumes a few months before.

The fashion wars have begun. In our home, the four year old is already voicing her opinion on what she will and will not wear. As much as I hate to admit it, we have started using threats as our primary negotiation tactic. The most efficacious trick is threatening to give her a boy haircut. This was especially effective since Kim and Senia Mae got a trim today. There is no worse punishment than the thought of cutting off her golden mane princess-like hair. We would never actually do it, but it is useful to get teeth brushed, to finish vegetables on a dinner plate, or to get her out the door on time. What makes it even more funny is that Kim and I were both tomboys as kids. I remember begging my dad to take me to his barber so I could get the same haircut as him. My mother had a total fit when I came home looking like a cute little boy. At the time I loved looking like a boy, but to my daughter that kind of haircut would be the worst suffering imaginable. It is a complete riot.

Senia Mae slept late the other morning. It was cool, crisp, and inviting outside...all I wanted to do was have my coffee in the hot tub, enjoying the fall foliage as I watched the squirrels hurry up the tree trunks storing their supplies for the winter. Since Senia Mae can't completely read yet I left her a picture note which I thought had a very clear message that I was in the hot tub drinking my coffee. After about ten minutes I heard the front door swing open. "Mama, Mama?" she said, slightly panicked, thinking she had been left all alone.