on mothers and their motherly concern

I love my mom but I have a complicated relationship with her (as we all do with our own moms, I feel like). Without plumbing too deeply into our history (which half of you know anyway), allow me to complain that she is driving me up a wall in a very shallow, very Standard Mom way tonight.

I'm more or less done packing for Singapore (aside from things like my computer, which you may have guessed) and am readying myself to be up at 4:30 tomorrow to head to the airport to spend the next 24 hours of my life on a motherfucking plane (hopefully without the motherfucking snakes) or in airport terminals. My mom, in momly fashion, is paranoid about everything. She is positive that I will somehow die before I reach Singapore, or maybe once I get there, because my feet will be cold on the plane, or I will be unable to sleep on the plane, or I will be unable to pay for a trolley to haul my luggage through customs.

"When you go through customs, can you wheel along both your bags?" (This because she thinks I have the strength of a wounded gazelle - or less, probably, since often wounded gazelles can still manage to run a bit. She thinks I have the strength of gently deflating balloon. Fwwoosh, said Mei.) "Maybe you should get a trolley. Oh, airports have trolleys! Make sure to get a trolley," she tells me. Then she remembers how airports try to leech every cent they can out of you. "Oh, wait, what if you need Singapore money to get a trolley? You're only carrying USD. If you have to, convert some money at the airport and then pay for the trolley."

Oh, Mother, I never thought of that!

"Do you know if you have to pay for a trolley in Singapore? Should you convert some money before you go?"

One, how on earth would I know, and two, it's too late.

Seriously, thank you for your concern but your stress is stressing me out. I don't mean to sound unappreciative of her concern because, yeah, it would suck if my mom was like, "Daughter? Going halfway around the world for four months? Doesn't ring a bell. Have fun walking to the airport tomorrow morning!" But honestly, mothers.

You know how they are.

I promise I will not die of dehydration on the plane. I promise I will not take out my money and put it in plain sight on my body and beg for someone to steal it from me. I promise I will not mortally offend J's mom's ancestors back fifteen generations. I promise I will call (via Skype, anyway). I promise I will write (via email). I promise to not die or get beaten by canes.

Love,
your not-completely-incompetent daughter Mei