One of the greatest writers whose works I had the  pleasure of reading was an American lady named Erma Bombeck. Erma’s books were about real life. She was a wife and mother of the 60′s and a journalist and bestselling author in the 70′s, 80′s and 90′s. She had one of the longest running columns in newspaper history. Erma wrote about life; about noisy kids, uncomfortable pregnancies, husbands who needed constant reminding to put the garbage out at night, tricky Christmas Day dinners with in-laws, those nightmare car trips with four kids and a dog…

Her books were funny, ironic, compassionate and I doubt there is one mother alive who could not identify with the everyday stuff she wrote about. Her books could also be heartbreakingly sad, but having turned the last page of one of her books you could not fail to have been moved or laughed till your sides almost split. Erma wrote about marriage and motherhood at a time when women all over the world were aiming for that glass ceiling – and in some cases forgetting what really mattered in life when ambition and being equal got in the way. Erma reminded us that women and men are as different as chalk and cheese – and that those differences should be celebrated.

She wrote about the small stuff- and it was the small stuff that makes up all our lives as we go about our everyday living. Erma once wrote in one of her books: “Don’t sweat the small stuff…” – meaning why waste time and energy fretting over the milk spilled on the rug when it will only get spilled again next week…

In the last book I read of Erma’s she told of a letter she received from a woman serving a life sentence in prison – the woman had lost the ability to cope and drowned her two young children in the bathtub. She wrote to Irma “If only I had been able to laugh at the same things you write about, maybe my children would be alive today…”

Erma died on April 22, 1996 having battled breast cancer and a lifelong kidney disorder. She was 69 years old. Just before she died she wrote this small piece about wisdom and hindsight – a very wise and wonderful woman herself, reminding us once again how ‘the small stuff’ can often mean the most…

If I had my life to live over.

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for the day.

I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.

I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa was faded.

I would have eaten the popcorn in the ‘good’ living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

I would have shared more of the responsibilty carried by my husband.

I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had been teased and sprayed.

I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching television – and more while watching life.

I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn’t show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.

Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I’d have cherished every moment and realised that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, “Later…now go get washed up for dinner.”

There would have been more “I love you’s” and more “I’m sorry’s”.

But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute…look at it and really see it…live it…and never give it back.

My favourite Erma quote: “My theory on housework is, if the item doesn’t multiply, smell, catch on fire or block the refridgerator door, let it be. No one cares. Why should you?”.

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