Mom's the co-pilot

When traveling with my family of five, one would think that the pilot, or the driver of the vehicle, holds the most important position as they are in charge of safely transporting each passenger to their destination. However, as designated co-pilot for the past 13 years, I believe my role may hold equal value, if not, maybe a little more. After traveling across the State last weekend, I was reminded of all the duties of the co-pilot as well as the results of those responsibilities.

Ninety-nine percent of the time Hubby is acting pilot in our family excursions. He believes he is the superior driver of the family and considers himself the Dale Earnhardt Jr. of interstate traffic, disguised in an oversized SUV with an Honor Roll sticker on the side instead of the number 88. Therefore, I reign as co-pilot queen. Unlike the pilot, who simply gets in the driver's seat at the expected departure time and turns the ignition, the co-pilot must prepare before the trip by supplying the passengers with adequate food and drinks, sleeping supplies, as well as entertainment items like electronics, coloring supplies and toys for the young ones. All these items must be separated per passenger, charged and/or supplied with batteries, and also somewhat new and exciting so as to not bore the passengers after 20 minutes of riding. As well, all these items must be placed in the vehicle at an arm's length away for easy access.

The co-pilot is usually the last to enter the vehicle and must squeeze themselves into the front seat, as all the items for the trip don't always fit in the back and must be jammed around the co-pilot's feet. Before the vehicle leaves the boundaries of town, the co-pilot's job begins. First, there is the immediate run through the list of "do you have's" with the young passengers, just in case someone forgot something, while there's still time to run home. And second, run through checklist with the pilot, "Gas? Check! Sunglasses? Check! Phone? Check? Cash? Check!" Finally, takeoff.

The pilot goes into drive mode, eyes on the road and prepared for potential danger, ears shut off to all interior noises, especially the word "Daddy" which can be said 48 times before I have to smack the pilot and tell him he's being paged. After takeoff, however, the co-pilot goes into game mode, alert and attentive to all passengers needs and requests. Since swivel front seats don't come standard in common vehicles, the co-pilot is responsible for cranking their neck 217 times toward the backseat, and temporarily dislocating their shoulder to reach things to appease the passengers. Lids are opened and drinks passed back, snack wrappers are teeth-ripped opened and handed back, dropped crayons are retrieved under the back seat with go-go gadget mom arms, and fast food meals are opened and prepared on seats all while the co-pilot remains in the front. A few years back, bottles were fed to babies locked in car seats and dropped pacifiers wedged in dark locations were rescued for comfort. Even a few diapers were changed in an emergency. Now that's a trick only a co-pilot can pull off!

After hours of twisting my head and acknowledging several, "Mom, look at this!" and breaking up some occasional scrapping between passengers, again with go go gadget mom arms, a co-pilots head begins to throb. And with no nap, some bad 80's radio music and some spilled cheese crackers, a co-pilot's job can reach its breaking point. Not only do I have a headache but I realize I've been sitting sideways on one hip faced towards the back seat the entire four hours and my whole spine needs a good crack from the chiropractor. My body yells at me to get out of the vehicle and straighten myself, but at the end of the trip, the co-pilot has to complete their duties by digging for someone's lost shoes and socks, standing on their head to find a dropped happy meal toy, and gather 16 used snack wrappers before they stink up the joint.

It's one tough job, being a co-pilot, both mentally and physically! I always offer to drive but my pilot never knows the real reason for my offer. He thinks I'm just being nice, giving him a break. Little does he know ... or maybe he does?!