And so it begins...

When my mother told me that her flight would be arriving in Dayton at midnight, I was immediately concerned. The past-my-bedtime part of the equation didn't really matter, Aaron would do the picking up while I stayed home with Violet. I worried that the concept of midnight, or 12 AM would cause confusion. Deb and the kids (my niece and nephew) would be boarding their plane one day (in Pheonix) and deboarding (in Dayton) only minutes into the next day. The added three hour time difference did not inspire my confidence for communication success. I attempted to clarify with my mother with several turns of phrase.

"So, you'll leave on Thursday and arrive in Dayton on Friday morning?"

"Oh, so Aaron will get off work Thursday night and just go straight to the airport to pick you up at 12:04 AM on Friday?"

"When you say 12:04 AM Friday, you mean it just turned Friday from Thursday, right?"

I should have taken her flight information and looked at it myself on the internet. It is clear to me now that she was agreeing with everything I said to her on the phone without even looking at a calendar. When will I learn that Deb functions from a place of absolute certainty, despite always being wrong? It's really all my fault for assuming that a grown woman, a grandmother of three, could tell time properly. At 3 AM this morning, Aaron called from the airport to say that Mom was not there. Her flight number corresponded to a delayed flight and he waited until absolutely everyone was off and then he checked the baggage area. NO DEB. I called my mother and sure enough she answered the phone at home in Arizona.

"No honey, it's the 11th at midnight."

It was and still is the 11th of July, even in Arizona. I can only be thankful that I have another day to breath deeply and try not to lose my cool (or my mind).