Why Traveling With My Mom Turns Me Back Into A Teenager

I love my mom very much. But, no wonder I smoked cigarettes as a teenager.
Moms have this way of cutting you down in the most friendliest of ways to make sure you know who is the one in control. I can't even start to list all the little statements that seemed to just get under my skin, so I will give you the first couple examples.

Picture this: I have already succumbed to changing my checked bag into a carry-on bag based on the soft suggestion from my mom 11:30 the night before we are leaving to go visit my brother and his family in Colorado. I get up about 3:45 after sleeping 4 hours with one eye open scared I might oversleep. It is 5:30 AM, we have made it through security and are sitting at the Starbucks at LAX in the United Terminal. I get two coffees, one diluted down so it is somewhat tolerable to drink for my mom and a bran muffin to share.

"Bran muffin?" with a 'are you kidding?' smirk she says. "That's a lot of fiber."

I smile. "Yeah."

"So, How is work honey? Does your boss like you?" She says.

I answer with a happy, "Work is good. A little stressful right now. Yes, my boss likes me, we have a great professional relationship."

She replies, " Well, you're so pretty too. It must be just easy to work with you."


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