This is not one of those saccharine sweet, lookie what I did kinda posts. I say that because sometimes I look back at what I have said I have done with the grands or SM or my daughter Shelley and kinda get ickified thinking.....I wonder if they know I don't think I'm such and such or so and so. Cuz most of the time I am a so and so. But I digress as usual.
It just so happens that on occasion, possibly not as often as it should, when I am in a weakened biotch condition, I can be nice. Or at least I have experienced that a couple of times. tee hee
When Shelley was but a wee young one, before Oprah was the font of advice on how to be......and do.......and have............and behave, you know when folks were or were not schooled as children, in the art of social interaction and how to be polite "out in public" behavior (usually at the end of a willow switch or paddle and applied when the learner was small). I heard some friends discussing getting flowers for different events in their lives. And this older woman (about 40, yikes, that's funny now) said that she didn't get flowers very often but gave them because it made her feel good about herself and she loved the expression on other's faces when she gave them the bouquets.
The one she talked about that hit a cord with me was the flowers she gave to her Mother on this lady's birth day as a birthing present to say thanks Mom for going through all you went through for me. So being the follower and copier supreme, I gave my Mom flowers on my next birthday. She was of course shocked, dumbfounded and stupefied. What the................? And my Sister was pissed at me and my Dad said I made him look bad and so I never did it again. All in all, it didn't quite work out the way I though it would have......with Snow White singing and blue birds flying and my Mom dancing around with tears streaming down her cheeks and a look of appreciation on her face. Oh well, I tried. I wish I had read "Dancing with the Goddess" by Morrison and Madden back then. I could have used my favorite quote, on my family. *be careful what you say, your next word could be ribbit*.
But little Michelle Leigh was and always has been an observer of all things soft, smooshy and warm. Even drew with it on her crib when she was a baby....oh no never mind.
My Michelle has a tender heart and a good grasp of warm and fuzzy, yeah that's better. And has since she could con her Dad out of some money for my favorite yellow roses, gifted me with those gorgeous buds of love on her birthday. As she got older, the number of roses increased from 1 or 2 to a dozen. There have been years when she didn't have the financial where with all and sent me a card or just called and you know.....that was plenty. At my other blog, I explained our birthing situation, she and I alone without assistance in the hallway. Somehow, that has forged a very strong, you and me bond.
So this year, I didn't expect roses. I was surprised and pleased. I hope that she knows how much I appreciate her kindness and loving attentions to her Mom. I think she does but it never hurts to say "thanks sweetie, you da bestest".
And I hope that others know that I can be thankful and do appreciate all that I get and have from others.....but like the other (older) lady, I like to be the giver most of the time. And sometimes the giving is the best gift.