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Monday, Nov 23, 2009
I don't care what feminist moms say, Erma Bombeck is still the most relevant and hilarious voice in the wilderness of motherhood.
Jan 10, 2002 | I picked up a copy of "Motherhood, the Second Oldest Profession" in a thrift store the other day. The title made me laugh, as it must have made millions of other book buyers laugh many, many years ago. As a British ex-pat, I failed to recognize the name Erma Bombeck. And it was only after I began to rave about her books that I learned that poor Erma, despite her bestselling past, is now considered by many to be a relic, an out-of-date purveyor of politically incorrect advice on mothering and housekeeping. While she may have been amusing for a decade or so, Erma, I now know, is no longer an appropriate humorist for today's mothers. She is instead a caricature of women as they should not be.
But approached with an untainted mind, Erma Bombeck's writing is honest, timeless and wickedly humorous. What woman with both a sense of humor and children could possibly reject titles like "I Lost Everything in the Postnatal Depression" and "The Grass is Always Greener Over the Septic Tank"? What mother could reject without a pang of empathy or relief Bombeck's frequent admissions of being an imperfect and slovenly mum? And for the dwindling but proud regiment of less-than-perfect mothers, she is something of a voice in the wilderness -- a patron saint, if you will.
It is true that in some ways, life has changed dramatically since Erma was bemoaning the housewife's lot. But interestingly, in many ways it has not changed at all. Recognizable in the Bombeck profile of American moms is the low esteem in which a housewife's role is regarded by society; recognizable too is the low esteem in which housewives hold themselves. Unrecognizable is the way women in the '50s seemed consigned and resigned to the narrow drudgery of domestic life. Unrecognizable is the way that women of that era could not see a way out.
Today's stay-at-home moms (never "housewives) are more than likely to indicate that they choose to "work in the home" voluntarily. Sometimes this is to announce to the world that the family is prosperous enough to live off one income; sometimes it owes itself to pressure from the more reactionary factions of our society who wish to return to the perceived delights of family life in 1950s suburbia. But once they are at home -- for whatever reason -- mothers often find the scene to be not so vastly different than the one of Bombeck's description.
Sure, the role has been repackaged and reworked, but many -- dare I suggest, most? -- stay-at-home moms of the moment can relate to Bombeck when she writes: "If someone was to run an ad in the New York Times which read: WANTED: Household drudge, 140 hour week, no retirement, no sick leave, no room of own, no Sundays off. Must be good with animals, kids and hamburger. Must share bath, would 42 million women still apply?"
It certainly is not hard to understand why Bombeck once soared to popularity. In her heyday, most women were housewives straining to emulate June Cleaver only to find themselves empty and exhausted. Sadly, many women are still attempting the same feat, but because they have theoretically chosen this calling, they are prohibited to complain.
