I Miss Erma

I miss Erma Bombeck.  I have made her my patron saint - even if the church won’t.  Not to diss Mother Theresa, Our Lady of Lourdes or Joan of Arc.  I just miss Erma.  She articulated my story when I couldn’t.  She made me laugh despite the generation gap. She used her teeth to untangle the shoelaces of a toddler who had “peed” on them all day.  She ate stale peanut butter and jelly sandwiches she found in couch cushions because it was easier than a trip to the trash can.  She talked dirty to her house plants and they died.  She poured chocolate sauce on cottage cheese and felt rebellious.  She threw her hotel room key to Tom Jones, only later to discover it was the key to the deep freeze.  She said it was okay to just tolerate your kids, to only sometimes love your husband and to keep fighting for equal pay. Erma said all these things we wish we had said, even when we didn’t even know we should be thinking them.

Where are the Erma icons?  Where are the Erma-in-your-pocket patron saint medallions?  Why can’t I stick a plastic Erma on the dash board of my car?  Where is Erma?  Erma’s memory is dying and my generation needs to get its butt in gear and bring her back. 

Erma was more than a one woman spokesperson for mothers. She was a leader, a sister, a mother for all of us.  She put leftovers in little plastic containers, knowing no one would ever eat them, just to be frugal.  She dreamed of her own convertible and wearing shiny lip gloss like Marlo Thomas.  Instead she got a station wagon and school pick up duty with detours to the vet.  She wanted to play, but the dog had to be neutered, the cleaners needed to give back pressed clothes, the lawn mower repair shop missed her and the grocery store wasn’t going to visit itself.  She wrote columns and books and earned a paycheck, all the while taking numerous calls from children fighting over whose turn it was to do the dishes. She, more than anyone other woman in recent history, was the true definition of a woman. 

You don’t even have to be a mother to appreciate Erma.  You had a mother.  When you get all grown up you realize what your mom did for you.  At least most of us do, even if it may not have appeared to be perfect at the time.  Now that I’m all grown up, I realize what Erma did for me.  She made it okay to be a mom, even a working mom.  She made it okay to feel lonely and isolated.  She made it okay to want to run away from home at forty.  She made it okay to walk into your kids room at night and remember why you love them.  She made it okay if some days you didn’t like them.  She is gone and I am lost.  Who will lead us out of the wilderness of wash day? 

The religious right tells us we can’t work and be good mothers.  Erma was a staunch Catholic and worked.  The left tells us we can’t be mothers and fulfilled as women.  Erma fought for the Equal Rights Amendment.  Women today still only make seventy cents on the dollar compared to our male colleagues. 

Erma transcended left and right.  Erma made her own way.  Erma paved the way for me and my fellow moms to work, to mother, to be human.  Her spirit is with us when we get texts in the middle of board meetings from frantic children who forgot chemistry homework and need it brought immediately to school.  Erma didn’t even have a cell phone. She is with us even now as we work to cure cracked heels and strengthen weak nails that come from lack of sleep and stress.  She undergirds us as we work for less, give more and still volunteer. 

I pray to Erma at night.  Jesus just wouldn’t understand. 

“Erma,” I say, “Grant me the energy to love, to work, to pretend to care, to care and to survive.” 

Erma always answers me,

 “Stretch marks and cracked heels are a Stigmata, be proud.  Dark circles under your eyes from children who don’t sleep are the marks of beauty.  Cottage cheese is better with fudge sauce.  And, my child, car pool duty is a get out of hell free card.  Good work my good and faithful woman!  Up here we all look good in two piece bathing suits and fluorescent lights are banned.  Your rewards are laid up in heaven and they are calorie free.” 

As I lay down to sleep - until a child finds me - all I can think is… I hope so Erma, I sure hope so. And, I miss you Erma. We all do.