An Apron...

I do, in fact own an apron. Not just a little twill number, meant to be tied on quickly for prevention of grease spatters and flour smudges, and not even a little flowery pocketed job. Nope, mine is a full fledged, retro floral print, tie behind the back, loop around the neck, full of pockets, with matching hair tie, go grab some pearls, Donna Reed style apron. Even more shocking? I wear it... regularly, and just to flabbergast everyone, I have even worn it to the grocery store. If me from 15 years ago, could have seen me now, hair cropped practical-shoulder-length short, 6 kids, married, career on hold, 3 dogs, apron wearing, bread baking, dress sewing, farmer's market going me, well, suffice it to say, I may have given my pregnancy and motherhood ballooned butt a swift kick, and taken me out to a bar for a stiff shot of bourbon and a good talking to. You see, back then, I was an angsty teen, bleached hair, combat boots, various facial jewelry, etc. I wanted to be a photojournalist, and I promised myself that if I had kids, it would NOT be of the plural realm. It would be kid. One kid. No more. And that was a big *if*. I despised the idea of "sitting home all day wasting away my life" with a houseful of children. I wanted my life to have meaning. I wanted to work, to explore, to travel at a moment's notice. In my mind, children, families, and marriage were all very oppressing. Telling women to stay home was society's way of keeping them "where they belong". Basically, misguided Feminism. I was made ill at the thought of driving a mini-van, I laughed at people who had honor roll and soccer stickers on their cars, and swore to off myself if I EVER owned a home with neighbors closer than a mile away.

Thankfully, I was very naive, and very wrong. Wrong to a level that my immature teenage brain could not have possibly comprehended. Being a successful woman has nothing to do with most of those things. And being a mother, does NOT a sellout make! Here I am, 6 kids later, with a house in a subdivision, my photography on hold, and wearing an apron. For God sakes, I knit! I love my family. My children and husband are the best things to ever happen to my jaded self. Through them, I have experienced incredible joy, devastating loss, hope, sorrow, love, anger, fear, and just plain hilarity. They bring out the best and worst in me, and if I can give a little back to them, by staying home from work for a few years, learning to bake bread, and sewing them cool Halloween costumes, then so be it. They have given me far more. So, cheesy as it sounds, I wear my apron with pride. To me, it represents the things I do to show my family love, and it keeps my Ella Moss dress clean when I fry chicken. I am saddened that I used to have such little respect for stay at home mom's. Some of my best childhood memories, are coming home from school to a tidy home that smelled of an incredible dinner in the oven, with the hum of the washing machine in the background. I would sit at the table with my mom, have a snack, and talk about some aspect of my day. It was grounding, and comforting, like a soft, fluffy quilt that I could wrap around my shoulders on the coldest of days. I want those memories for my kids. I want to be there for them, now, and 20 years down the road, in little fleeting memories of their childhood. I want to show them, to the best of my abilities, that they matter to me.

I am all for Women's Rights, but through the years, I've realized that that is the beauty of it all, I have the choice to be who I want to be, and right now, this is what I choose.