happy birthday...

to my mommy who would probably never read this:

for all the times you have been an absolute grouch, you have also been around for me in the times where it hurt so much that thought it was impossible to hurt any more.

for all the times you potter around and meddle in my personal life, do know that it is out of concern that you do the things you do and sound the way you do, much as it sounds awfully stupid to say that nagging is part of the way you show you care.

for all the times you do all those little things that can be so assed annoying, and pick on me for the very same damn thing, there are also the little things that you do that makes me look back at how sweet you can be when you are not being a frumpy grump.

happy birthday mommy dear. thank you for everything; grouching inclusive. after all, am your little grouch, even if you bought me a laughing cookie monster and singing ernie. and though you absolutely hate my entire soft toy collection for collecting dust and mites and them nasties that send my lungs into a coughing frenzy, can oscar the grouch be next on the list? pretty please?