Out of my window looking in the night I can see the barges flickering light, my mother and I belted out as Kim drove the car, hugging each curve as it ascended Crown Mountain. In the backseat, sitting next to my mother, who was eagerly typing fun camp songs into her Google search engine, sat a rather cantankerous, Senia Mae, texting me pictures of thumbs down, the poop pile, and barfing emojis from the backseat. "I don't understand why I can't bring my iPad to 4H camp," Senia Mae said. The trip to Savannah was going to take five hours, I know she was thinking how could a child on a trip possibly survive without any electronic devices? It was her first time going away for overnight camp and I wanted her to participate, not be off somewhere in her own world escaping on her device. We weren't being completely mean, we let her bring her Apple watch so she could contact us if necessary. "Before there were iPads and movies in cars we actually used to talk to each other," Kim said. "You could also draw, read a book. We'd like you to be a little more open minded." "For five hours?" Senia Mae's grumpiness was not improving as I had hoped. "And there's no way they are going to sing those stupid songs on the bus!" "Oh no," I said. "Camp is always about singing." I even texted the camp administrator to double check. Sing along songs were still a big part of 4H camp. I'll sing you one ho, green grow the rushes ho, and what is your one ho? Grammy continued her string of long lost camp hits from the backseat. "What the heck is a rushes ho?" Senia Mae asked. "We never asked or even cared what a rushes ho was, it's more about singing and being happy, just like we weren't really questioning why someone was so interested in finding a peanut last night," I said. Senia Mae was not amused. I was trying to add some much needed comedic relief, hoping she would lighten up and just get into that old camp sprit. She wasn't. The next morning, we sat on the curb in the junior high parking lot waiting for the late bus. I remember many school trips, the motto always being hurry up, wait. At least everything hadn't changed since I was a kid. When the shiny motor coach finally pulled in, Senia Mae's eyes lit up. It looked like it could have been Katy Perry's tour bus. Even though she wasn't going to admit it to me, I think she was excited as well as nervous. After the bus pulled out of the parking lot, I noticed a text from Senia Mae. There's no wi fi on the bus followed by the crying emoji. I smiled to myself before responding. I don't want to ruin my child's trip, but I want her to experience the comradery and togetherness that camp offers. She's an only child and doesn't have to deal with sibling rivalry, or teasing, or playfulness that you get by being around a large group of children. She doesn't know how it feels to have to share a bathroom or even consider someone else. Senia Mae thinks staying at the Budgetel instead of the five star lodge is actual suffering! Camp was going to be good for her. I could feel it. No wi fi? I guess they'll just be more time for singing! I added the laugh until you cry emoji and hit send. We'll see how the rest of the week goes!

We had just finished packing up the car, our Grey Traverse stuffed to the rim with dogs, bikes, the kid, and the numerous beach supplies needed for a week's stay in Gulf Shores. I was happy that the morning had been smooth and relaxed. We had managed to shove off at the planned time with no extra packing stress. Just as the dirt road turned into pavement the voice floated up from the backseat. "Mama, can I have your phone?" I rolled my eyes. Once again we were not on the road more than three seconds before Senia Mae wanted to plant her face in the screen, getting completely sucked into the vacuum effect of electronic stimulation. What ever happened to families talking to each other during long drives. Didn't kids play I Spy or the Alphabet game anymore? "Kara, it's going to be a seven hour drive," Kim said. Most days I would push the family talking argument, trying to treasure the lost trove of Americana, but that day I just handed the phone back. Here we go, I thought to myself as I flipped on SiriusXM radio channel 15, The Pulse! Suddenly over the airwaves I heard the voice of Katie Couric announcing she was live on the air with Steve Perry of Journey and was going to spend the next full hour discussing his disappearance from the public eye over the last thirty years. "Whaaaaat?" I yelled out in excitement as I raised my hand across the middle console to give Kim a high five. "I loooooove Steve Perry!" Closing my eyes I could still see Steve Perry's smooth black hair and chiseled chin on the faded cover of Tiger Beat Magazine. That ripped cover remained plastered to the wall beside my bed until the mid-eighties. It was going to be a great day, I could feel it. Leaning forward I turned the volume knob up higher, drowning out the Monster High voices coming from the backseat. "Even his own grandfather believed the rumor about him having throat cancer," I said, turning to Kim, my ears desperately hanging on every word that came out of the speakers. "That's unbelievable," Kim replied. "Must be crazy living in the spotlight like that." After a few minutes Katie said they were going to take a short break. I so wanted to be taking her place in that interview. She left us with Steve Perry's smokey voice belting, "I should've been gone... knowing how I made you feel..." I screamed like an excited schoolgirl going to the eighth-grade semi-formal. Kim and I started swaying left to right in unison with the pulsating bass as he moaned, "Oh I must have been a dreamer..." "Dream of Gold" Kim and I both sung back-up, wailing at the top of our lungs as the car rocked back and forth, bike tires spinning on the rear rack. We could have easily been Wayne and Garth cruising around town in a Pacer or Melissa McCarthy singing the Milkshake song during the car scene of Identity Thief. "You guys know all the words to this song?" Senia Mae asked after we both belted out "You'd be better off alone... if I'm not who you thought I'd be..." "Of course," I said. "I've had Journey's Greatest Hits on cassette, CD, and on iTunes. Even though this was his solo album." "We love this music," Kim added. "I had this record on 45." "Yes, I can tell," Senia Mae said with a cake-thick layer of sarcasm. "Do you think you can turn it down? I can hardly hear my video." "That's what headphones are for," I piped in happily as a deep grunt came from the backseat. "How long is this guy going to be on?" she asked. "Hopefully the whole seven hours!" Kim said excitedly. "But more like sixty minutes." "Sixty minutes? That's a long time..." Senia Mae groaned as Kim and I busted out laughing in the front seat, realizing that this was the best form of kid torture ever. Thinking of all the countless hours I've had to listen to those annoying YouTube videos where the kids are screeching in pretend baby voices, this moment in time was absolutely priceless. We may not be day trippers but we definitely ARE fun Road Trippers!

We have been having the same training wheel battle for months, Kim and I say Senia Mae is big enough to ride without any extra help and she begs to differ... literally begs and whines. I have gotten the tag along bike attached to mine, hoping that riding with me would give her confidence and help her balance. Just when I think it has given her enough boost, I decide it is time to try the old fashioned bike once again. Today while we were in Grandma's pancake flat driveway, I brought out Senia Mae's 12" toddler bike. At six years old her legs are so tall and lanky that when she sits on the seat her knees practically hit the steering wheel. Standing ten feet away at the other end of the driveway I prompt her. "Just push with your feet and balance with your legs out," I say as she fidgets with the glittery streamers dangling from the handlebars. "You don't even need to pedal if you're not ready." She juts her lower lip out in a pout, staring at me as if I am asking her to rearrange her underwear drawer. "Come on," I say. "It's no big deal. If you get scared or off balance just put your feet on the ground." She shoves the bike with her feet, sticks one foot haphazardly on one pedal, and is barely moving before the bike leans to the left and she has to catch her self. "See? That wasn't so bad. Lets try pedaling a couple of times now." "Mama, I just can't get it. I keep falling over," she says. "That's because you are not balancing. You can't do it standing still, the bike has to be moving." "But I don't know how," she says and gets off the bike, walking towards the garage. "Here, I'll show you," I said, and this was my fatal error. Not thinking that this was a small 12" toddler bike that sat lower than my knee, I plunked my butt down on the seat and gave the bike a push, letting my legs stretch out as the bike rolled forward. "See, its simple." "Mama," she says. "You can do it, too, Senia Mae." "But Mama..." "What?"

I always find it humorous to watch which character traits Senia Mae has taken from me and what she has picked up from Kim. If any of you know us personally, you probably know that Kim is the clean freak and I am the sentimental storer/pile maker. Today's background squabble of the day was Kim threatening to vacuum up Senia Mae's Barbie shoes that she haphazardly shoved under the bookshelf when asked to clean up her mess. Okay, that would be a Kara trait she picked up. The house was suddenly loud with the whirr of the vacuum as Kim pulled out the shelf and Senia Mae pleaded in the background, "No, no, those mean something to me," running up to the shelf and scooping the shoes up in a hurry. "Well a clean house means something to me," Kim replied. On goes the daily battle of what stays and what goes. Sometimes it is even so tough that we have to go through Senia Mae's clothes and old toys when she's at school. Several weeks ago, after the Christmas surplus, we made a quick deposit at the Abba House thrift store about a mile down the road. I have thought nothing of it since then.

As the pre-holiday stress hits alarming levels, I find myself buried with tasks I am trying to cram into three short weeks: ordering Christmas cards, organizing the staff party, decorating the house, all while forgetting the relaxation of Thanksgiving at the beach just five days ago. "Where does the time go," I say silently as I drag Senia Mae shopping at 10 am on Thursday morning, squeezing in some power shopping before I have to leave for work at 2:45. My favorite CD is belting out Christmas Wrappings as the words drill into my cerebellum like brainwashing: "friends of mine already mad rush just cause its tis the season." Laughing out loud I realize that is exactly what I am doing, heading to Target for tinsel and pre-lit garland, Home Goods for a table runner and a sleek, sophisticated version of a 1970's themed Christmas tree, and Walmart for more extension cords and an outside timer.