Sunday night

Around 10pm, I headed to bed.
Mom: You're going to bed at 10pm?? That's early.
A.: [Shrug]

The long answer is, I head to bed around that time, and once I do all the things I notice I need to do before I go to bed, it's definitely bedtime. But the long answer is irrelevant, because my bedtime is my business, and mine alone. I don't need "peer" pressure from my mother.

Mom: Your dad doesn't go to bed until midnight, and he gets up at 5pm.

A.: Are you suggesting that's a good thing?
Mom: No! I think it's terrible.
A.: Goodnight.

I'm in bed, doing a crossword, when mom comes in (without knocking, of course; she's never been a knocker).

Mom: You're still up? You can't sleep? Is that a crossword?
A.: Uh-huh.
Mom: You're exercising your brain?

I don't know how to get it through to my mother that not everything I do is utilitarian. I don't have a specific nutritional purpose for everything I eat ("what's healthy about [whatever food you're eating) or book I read. I do crosswords because I like doing crosswords. If anything, it's a bedtime ritual that helps me wind down.

Mom: Do you prefer such small pillows?
A.: No. This just happens to be the most comfortable one I found.
Mom: I can find you another one.
A.: Thanks, but this one is fine.
Mom:  No need to be so smart all the time. You don't radiate any warmth. Warmth is what's attractive.
A.: Goodnight.