Do I have your permission to be tired/cold/hungry?

I'm at my parents house and the back of my boarding pass is full of notes, the first of which were inspired just before I set foot in the airport.

Mom: Where are you??
A.: At the airport.
Mom: Why haven't you called??
A.: I'm still in Washington. I haven't even boarded.
Mom: Well, call me when you board.

Sure, I cut it close, arriving at the airport within an hour of my flight, but I didn't want to wake up too early, and I was determined to do yoga and read the paper before I left, since both are so problematic when performed in my mother's presence. I got to the airport and through security with time to spare, with the piece of mind of having done yoga free of commentary, distraction and requests for help watering the plants.

On the way from the airport:

Mom: Would you like to stop in Bazaar (the Russian food store).
A.: No. I'm tired, and hungry.

I never do. Do you ever, upon arriving anywhere, want to stop anywhere, rather than going home? Why does she even ask? I'd take less offense if she just said, "we're stopping at Bazaar."

Mom: Is that another bag?
A.: It's from a class I took.
Mom: What class?
A.: Dealing with difficult people.
Mom: Oh, that's very useful.

Mom: Why didn't you take the sewing machine last time?
A.: I didn't have room, I told you that.

Mom, turning off to go to Bazaar: It's five minutes, and this way we can get chicken.

It's not five minutes. It takes five minutes just to park there. Then there's the scheming and winding through the back roads she loves so much. She stops at a light and complains about how awful that one traffic light is.

At Bazaar I was appeased at first by the selection and bountiful displays, but quickly became irritated because I wanted to eat food, not look at it. Mom was dilly-dallying so I said, "let's just go."

Mom: What's wrong?
A.: I'm hungry. [and I don't want to be here, but my mom knows that I'm not much fun when I'm hungry, so it usually works.]
Mom: Oh! [as if it were a complete surprise, as if I hadn't said it in the car... but you see she asked as a routine, she didn't ask for an answer.]

On the way home:

Mom: What time did you leave the house?
A.: Around 9am.
Mom: And you didn't eat.
A.: I did.
Mom: And you're hungry?
A.: It's normal to be hungry after four hours! [believe me, I've been reading the dieting studies].
Mom: No it's not. The best thing to do is to fast.

That's two in one for mom: pop science/nutrition, and telling me I shouldn't be hungry (variations: I shouldn't be tired, cold, etc.) because she doesn't think I should be.

Pulling into the driveway:

Mom: Look at that beautiful tree.
A.: I see it.
Mom: No, look at it.
A.: I see it!
Mom: Get over your hunger for a minute and look at the tree!!

I was looking at the tree the whole time.

As we unloaded the groceries, she blamed me for the spilled eggplant dish, even though it was in a smaller bag and really not a big deal, and asked me accusitively why I poured her tea when she wasn't ready (because we'd decided to have tea and I had no idea she wasn't ready).