*THIS POST IS FOR YOU, DEAREST MUMSY*
Unsure about what to do for your dear mother this Mother's Day? Do yourself and her a favor and buy her an Erma Bombeck book. Any Erma Bombeck book. I virtually (virtual/internet promises being negotiable) guarantee she will thank you.
If you're a woman who has never read Erma, go to the bookstore or library now. She's a genius who will break your funny bone and tickle your heart and make you say, "Oh my goodness, this woman is writing about my life!" at least once. And my mom loves her, so there's another fabulous reason!
Who is she?
Erma Bombeck (1927-1996) was an American humorist and newspaper columnist who wrote about marriage, motherhood, and suburban home life. She published 15 books, most of which went on to become bestsellers. And if you love to write humor, then check out the annual Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop in Dayton, Ohio.
Here are a few of her classics:
|The Grass is Always Greener Over the Septic Tank|
|If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, What Am I Doing in the Pits?|
|When You Look Like Your Passport Photo, It's Time To Go Home|
|All I Know About Animal Behavior I Learned in Loehmann's Dressing Room|
|Why God Created Mothers|
I'll leave you this Mother's Day weekend with a whole bunch of Erma quotes. Feel free to read them all or just skim J
All of us have moments in our lives that test our courage. Taking children into a house with white carpet is one of them.
Spend at least one Mother's Day with your respective mothers before you decide on marriage. If a man gives his mother a gift certificate for a flu shot, dump him.
I have never gone to the bathroom in my life that a small voice on the other side of the door hasn't whined, "Are you saving the bananas for anything?"
People shop for a bathing suit with more care than they do a husband or wife. The rules are the same. Look for something you'll feel comfortable wearing. Allow for room to grow.
Before you try to keep up with the Joneses, be sure they're not trying to keep up with you.
Everyone is guilty at one time or another of throwing out questions that beg to be ignored, but mothers seem to have a market on the supply. "Do you want a spanking or do you want to go to bed?" Don't you want to save some of the pizza for your brother?"
Giving birth is little more than a set of muscular contractions granting passage of a child. Then the mother is born.
Graduation day is tough for adults. They go to the ceremony as parents. They come home as contemporaries. After twenty-two years of child-rearing, they are unemployed.
Have you any idea how many children it takes to turn off one light in the kitchen? Three. It takes one to say, "What light?" and two more to say, "I didn't turn it on."
Marriage has no guarantees. If that's what you're looking for, go live with a car battery.
Mothers have to remember what food each child likes or dislikes, which one is allergic to penicillin and hamster fur, who gets carsick and who isn't kidding when he stands outside the bathroom door and tells you what's going to happen if he doesn't get in right away. It's tough. If they all have the same hair color they tend to run together.
My kids always perceived the bathroom as a place where you wait it out until all the groceries are unloaded from the car.
No self-respecting mother would run out of intimidations on the eve of a major holiday.
Onion rings in the car cushions do not improve with time.
Some say our national pastime is baseball. Not me. It's gossip.
Happy Mother's Day!