Sing along why don't cha...

I just celebrated a birthday.

No, no…I’m not telling you this in order to receive more birthday wishes. (although feel free as it makes me feel all warm, fuzzy and loved)…no, I’m sharing this with you, well, just because.

The day before my birthday the doorbell rang. I was nearby and wouldn’t be able to pass off that I wasn’t home, so as one normally does when the doorbell rings, I answered it. There stood a man holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Nancy?” he inquired.

“Yes, I’m Nancy.”

“Here ma’am, these are for you…” as he handed over the bouquet to me.

I accepted the flowers but cringed at the sound of ‘ma’am’. Ma’am was my mother and my mothers mother before that and my mothers mothers mother. I wasn’t ready for that moniker and inwardly was a little off put by it. “Thank you. Thank you so very much!” I said, “But please for future reference…ma’am is my mother.” I smiled to let him know I was just kidding with him.

He laughed, grinned and waved, “Yes ma’….I mean miss. I get that a lot. But I was raised in the south. Everyone is ma’am there or you get a whoopin’.”

Yes, sir. I bet you would. And if I were 10 years younger and you were….Oh Nancy. Stop yourself!
I did smile though. The thought pleased me, just a tad.

The flowers were just lovely. It held several rubrim lilys (my favorite), some daisies, some tulips, some curly willow branches and some other exotic things that I don’t know the name of but are oh, so lovely. I unwrapped the box it was stapled into and it revealed a modern square vase that was just as beautiful as the flowers themselves.

Tucked in the flowers was a card, which I then opened to find out who was so thoughtful (and prompt!) with birthday wishes.

It read: Happy Birthday Love, Dad

Hmmm.

Birthday, check: that must be for me.

Love, Dad….Dad sent ME flowers? He never sends flowers. I’ve never, ever gotten flowers from Dad. He used to stop and buy a carnation or rose or a grocery bouquet every so often for mom as she loved flowers and flower arranging, but he’s really not the ‘send flowers’ kind of guy.

I turned the card over. Was it a mistake? I half expected them to be from my ex-husband. HE’s the flower sending type of guy, but my dad? Never.

I called my brother. “Did you have something to do with this? I got flowers from Dad!” I exclaimed.

“I talked to him the other day and reminded him there was a big birthday coming up, but no…the flowers were all his idea. He needed your address, but he’s the one that said “Hey, I should send her flowers!” he chuckled, "I thought you might be surprised."

Wow. Yup. Yes, Indeedy it was (and still is!) surprising!

The day of my birthday, well wishes coming via Facebook were off the chart. My daughter bought me some exquisite chocolates with money she’d saved. Her friends all sent me text messages wishing ‘Happy Birthday to mom #2!’.  I got a birthday video from a close friend in Florida and his toddler daughter with a charming rendition of the birthday song. Even the people at the Melting Pot brought me not one, but two huge boxes of the most beautiful chocolate covered strawberries.

Heck, I even received a text message from my ex boyfriend sending birthday wishes. Truly, I wouldn’t have expected him to remember. And if he did, actually acknowledge it.

Yes.
It was all rather surprising.
And touching.

I’ve been to many huge birthday parties. I’ve been to ones thrown by the birthday girl (or guy), ones thrown by friends, spouses and significant others. I been to surprise parties and some that were supposed to be surprises but turned out not to be. I’ve even been the host of some of the above…but I’ve never had anyone throw me a party. At least as an adult. My mother used to throw the bomb diggity of birthday bashes when I was little...

Wait. There was that ONE time...

When I was turning 40. I was going through a divorce, I had the day off, I wasn’t dating anyone special and didn’t have any plans…so I loaded up the baby and went to visit my parents. I didn’t feel like being alone.

Around 8 o’clock I got a call from one of my girls that worked for me.

“Nancy!!! Where are you? I thought you were coming to the Pub!” she exclaimed. “C’mon! Get here!”

“I can’t, Lauren. Sorry...I’m in Toledo.”

“WHAT? You CAN’T BE! Everyone’s here! We even got you a cake!!!!!!” she whined, "How long will it take you to GET HERE?!"

Yeah, two hours. Ain't going to happen.

Ah….the first rule of surprise parties, Have control over the surpriseee. That will go down in the column of good intentions, although fail. I’m to understand that they all had a smashing great time. Albeit sans the birthday girl.

I’ve never been one to blow my own horn. I have a hard time drawing attention to myself. I enjoy attention, but not if it has to be asked for. I suppose that’s one of the reasons why no one really knew it WAS my birthday. Those closest to me know, and those linked to me via some social network or another probably got an email ‘You have friends with birthdays this week’ but otherwise I’m not about to go around telling everyone ‘It’s my Birthday!’, although I have been doing that a lot this year with all the coupons being sent to me. Everywhere I hand one in I get a gaggle of people wishing me Happy Happy.

I smile and thank them but really, please…don’t’ sing. I don’t need to wear a sombrero, I don’t need to be serenaded, I don’t want that free dessert. Well, no..I take that back…bring me a free dessert. AND a martini.

And more of those scrumptious chocolate covered strawberries.

I might make this birthday a birth WEEK celebration. Hell, maybe a birth MONTH!

And you know...I might even learn to like; the birthday song.

:-)

PS: It has turned into a birth week celebration thus far. Monday I was surprised by the ladies at work that not only brought me in a delicious (YUM!) chocolate cake but then took me out for drinks. I love my co-workers...This milestone is off to a good start.