Aprons
A few weeks ago I posted a link from The Hillbilly Housewife about aprons. In total fairness, I thought it was a fun story, but I didn’t much see myself actually wearing an apron around my house. I mean, let’s get real here. I’m a modern mom with a blog and I love to stay behind my computer, not an oven or washing machine. But somewhere along the line, that post just grabbed me.
Each day that I would walk into my pantry and see my apron hanging there, it would taunt me. The dark black with pretty green writing. It’s even a fun, whimsical apron from my 36th birthday cooking party (did I really just put it out there for the world to see that I’m really ever so much older than 30?) from my dear friend Whitney when she was running “Cooking in Heels” long before her precious little ones came along. No, it looks nothing like the one that I found on the right, but they are much more along the lines of what I imagine a housewife would wear.
Finally, I gave in to the pressure and put it on, just for a trial run. Maybe at least I could save one shirt from the laundry. As soon as I put it on, Monkey was in my face telling me how beautiful I looked. Now, where did he get the idea that a woman in an apron was beautiful? Perhaps from the same place that when he saw my wedding dress he proudly proclaimed that he had found this great cow costume! Anyway, I digress.
On that first day, I accomplished more than I had in a while. Certainly, it wasn’t the apron. But, perhaps…. Just to be certain, I put it on again today. Sure enough, I believe there is some kind of magic fairy dust in aprons. As soon as I put it on, I become more domestic. Now, don’t think that I’m telling every woman out there who isn’t domestic that an apron will magically solve the problem, but you might give it a try. Here’s how it worked for me.
Typical day without an apron: get ready, eat microwave breakfast, pick up a couple of toys, check e-mail, get distracted, play on Facebook, remember that I was supposed to do laundry, head upstairs to start the laundry and get distracted by a toy on the floor that needs to be put away, go to put it away, see that the kids have been snacking, start to clean up the mess, remember that I need to check something on my calendar, go downstairs to check e-mail, repeat cycle throughout the day.
Today: get ready, make bed, start to make breakfast and decide to put apron on first. Decide that while I have apron on, I could make a better breakfast. Preheat oven and make French toast. While the oven is heating, clean up the rest of dishes that magically appeared since dinner cleanup last night along with all dishes from making breakfast. Think that some homemade bread sounds nice. Pull out ingredients for bread while toast is baking. Start prepping bread. Sit down for a hot breakfast with the boys. Clean up dishes together, then send them to clean up their playroom. Start a load of laundry. Return to breadmaking. Whip out the first loaf and set it up to proof while I make the second loaf. Clean up all the mess from both loaves while bread is proofing. Put bread in oven. Make lunch. Put baby down for nap. Cool bread and make a snack for older boys. Clean up kitchen. Take off apron. Sit down in front of computer, forget to do anything else for the rest of the afternoon.
So, is it the apron or the mind? I’m not convinced, but I’m thinking I might have to whip up one more apron just to be sure. Perhaps if I could just get one like this that I found on Flickr.
Apron Evangelism | Hillbilly Housewife
My friend Gina cross-posted this article on her blog today and I just had to share it with you. Keep in mind that for some odd reason I’ve been considering starting to wear an apron. Yes, I’m getting a little concerned about my incredibly more domestic habits too. Next thing you know, I might actually start cleaning my house!
Enjoy the article while I browse my fabric collection for a new apron.
—————–
One day not too long ago I was struggling with the boys over some minor details which come up when a lot of people live in a small shack in the woods. Details like the value of picking one’s dirty clothes up off of the living room floor when company has been spotted driving up the mountain. The boys were unusually stubborn that particular day. Rather than fight with them over their household responsibilities I picked up the dirty clothes myself and crammed them into the washing machine. I ran some soapy water in the sink to get a start on the dishes before the company arrived.
Now usually I am not one to hold a grudge over small disagreements like laundry on the living room floor. This one settled in my brain though, and I felt compelled to mull over it for several days. It was the outright insubordination which offended me the most. After I figured that out I went in search of solutions.
About the same time I was in the process of Spring Cleaning. I was having a great deal of trouble motivating myself to wash the walls in the kitchen and mop the back porch where the cats live (blessedly with a doggie door so they don’t need litter boxes).
Well, the more I worried about these twin dilemmas the more I felt the need to discuss them with the queen of solutions, my momma Darthulia. As I suspected she had the perfect solution. Darthulia told me I needed a uniform or costume which would reassure myself and others of my intention and status in the home. She claimed it would remind me of my duties, inspire me to greater levels of cleanliness (which as a hillbilly I sorely need), and reaffirm my authority in the home.
Darthulia then went on to describe the homemaker’s uniform to me in detail. “Imagine the modern archetype of the housewife.” She began. “Think Donna Reed, or Beaver Cleaver’s mom. They wore full skirts, and stockings, and heels when they vacuumed. But you knew they were doing housework because they had their aprons on. A string of beads graced the necks of their classic shirtwaist dresses, and a lacy bibbed apron proclaimed their role as matriarch in charge of household management.”
I only have a fleeting memory of Donna Reed. I sort of wish she came on television regularly so I could take notes but she doesn’t in my area so I am stuck looking for other heroines-of-the-home to model myself after. Most of what momma said made sense to me though. That very day, I put on a full skirt, stockings, sensibly low high heeled shoes, and a string of pearly white beads. Then I sat down at my sewing machine and ran up a couple of bibbed aprons, decorated with lace and ribbons.
I made up the pattern as I went along using a small rectangle for the first bib and a heart shape for the second bib. Then I stitched lace around the edges of the bib and attatched it to a simple tie with a full apron skirt gathered to the waist. I made them short waisted so they would fit my maternal figure a bit better, and voila, I was set. I put the first apron on, a creamy white or ecru, and looked in the mirror to admire my handiwork. I expected to see myself staring back at me, probably looking a little silly in this frilly piece of confection designed to protect my clothing.
Boy howdy, was I in for a surprise. In the mirror I saw a vision of the homemaker I have always strived to become staring back at me. Her cheery face glistened in the sunshine. Her hair tied up neatly in bun looked authoritative, and compassionate all at the same time. The apron covered several figure flaws and accentuated the fertile curves of the woman I saw in the mirror. This woman had purpose. She had status. She had clout. I stood there, contemplating the wonder of the homemaker that shone through my image in the mirror. “This is who I want to be” I told myself. “This is the Keeper of the home, with a capital ‘K’. ”
I wear my aprons every day now. I have made more, in different colors and configurations so as to be pleasing to my senses. I have come to believe they are a like lacy bits of lingerie, only worn on the outside, and a quite a bit more respectable. When I put on my aprons the children mind me better, wandering visitors immediately know my role as a stay at home mom. Door to door religious missionaries assume I am a virtuous woman and cheerfully move on to the next house. Fred thinks I look cute as a button, and neighbor children hug me more often.
I like my aprons. They have changed my life, raising my standards, inspiring me to greater feats of home making skill, and making me more effective as a parent. Whoever thought that a dollars worth of fabric and lace could effect so many changes on one woman and one family? Since my success with aprons I have become a true believer. I am now called to spread the word among my fellow housewives. Join the crusade by sharing your love of aprons with friends, family and internet buddies around the world. Together we will change the face of the House Wife, the world over.
Blessings,
–Maggie (The original Hillbilly Housewife)
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )
Odyssey of a Lifetime 