Oh, little darling of mine

The good news is, my mom is coming to visit me this weekend!

The bad news is, her flight has been delayed by three hours and now I am picking her up at the airport at midnight.

It's not that I mind making the trek; I just feel bad knowing that it will be 3 AM for her and she usually wakes up around 5:30. I'm 32 and complain about jet lag; she's 58 and I imagine even more sensitive.

Then again, maybe not. I tend to baby my mother a bit, forgetting she's lived an entire life before I grew up enough to realize it - one which included marriage, childbirth, divorce, running her own company, raising a hell-raiser like myself, and a number of other monumental markers that I couldn't even begin to imagine going through, spoiled, overgrown woman-child that I am.

I probably could have called a cab for her, but I hate the idea of her getting off the plane, being confused by her surroundings, and not knowing exactly where to go. I always make sure I am at the front of the line, elbowing the town car drivers behind me to ensure no one blocks me from her view. I have, in essence, become her, or at least my grandparents who used to mortify me by doing that when I would fly down to see them in Florida. I was 18, 21 years old, and my grandparents would still be the first ones at the gate, waving frantically as I walked off the plane, making sure I saw them and didn't have a moment where I felt confused or scared or lost.

So that's where I get it from.

I'll bring snacks, of course, because I imagine she must be hungry after sitting on a plane for ten hours, four of which were on the runway with no dining service. I'll wait for her luggage so she can go outside and have a cigarette, the single point of contention that ever allows me from truly enjoying her stay. Not the waiting, of course, but the smoking. The habit she's embodied for the last 40 years that clings to her clothes and my couch, and stands between us as the only thing she will never sacrifice for me. It gives her pleasure, reassurance, satisfaction. So few things in life do, I have to grant her that. I get it. But I don't have to like it.

We'll take it easy this weekend - no wine tours or tourist traps this time. We'll hit the beach and do some shopping and maybe see a movie. Enjoying the time together. Which I hope won't be compromised due to jet lag.