Amy's Spoonful of Sugar

My mother.


Happy Birthday to her.

Happy Birthday Bonita Ann Morrison Granger.

Happy Birthday to her.

Yes, my mother's real name is Bonita.

Most people know her as Bonnie.

You know, like "My Bonnie lies over the ocean", Bonnie wee lass, Bonnie Hunt.

And she is more of a Bonnie than a Bonita. Why, you ask?

Because she laughs readily, she has rosy red cheeks, she'll turn your frown upside down, and she is bright, educated and smart.

(No, bright and smart are not the same thing in my estimation. You could be smart about books, but still not so bright in other things, the way I see it.)

She'll still let me cuddle up next to her on the couch the way I did my whole life. It doesn't matter that I'm 35 now.

She keeps my family supplied with homemade jam. She taught me how to make homemade bread, a staple item for our family. Bread and jam together, a staple item for me.

She is excessively proud of me. And my husband. I used to think she liked him better than she liked me. But I think I'm catching up to him.

She has no favorites among her children or grandchildren. She loves them all to death.

Some of my most trying times were also her some of her most trying times, but she was there for me.

She made all of my prom dresses and my wedding dress so that I could love them and still be modest.

I have always, and continue to believe that she can do anything. From gardening to sewing to business to assembling a book shelf. I learned half of my work ethic from her. (my dad taught me the other half).

I am proud that you are my mother.
I am proud you taught me to work.
I am proud you have been married for 43 years.
I am proud that you are still there when we need you.
I am proud of you.

I love you. Happy Birthday!