Thursday, July 26, 2012

The Solidarity of the Apron

Today, I had a revelation in my kitchen (normally they happen in the shower, but I am not choosy). I was busying around and decided to fry some bacon. My parents are staying with Lady Baby for the weekend and I wanted to have some bacon for BLT's. That's what you do in the south for guests in the summer. You stuff them with BLT's on toasted bread with fresh tomatoes. Anywho, I slip on my apron so as not to splatter grease on my fine shirt from Target circa 2010, and I start frying. I wander back and forth to check on Her Highness, who is happy watching TV and eating a tootsie roll pop (Don't judge. It keeps her quiet for like 30 minutes. Try it and you will thank me.) Then I finish up the bacon and empty the dishwasher. Instead of grabbing a towel as I normally would, I reach for the hem of my apron without thinking, and wipe the dishes dry as I put them away. I wash my hands and dry them on my apron. As I am reloading the dishwasher, I have the aforementioned revelation. Here I am, standing in a kitchen, talking on the phone, rinsing out a coffee cup, wearing an apron. I thought about my mom standing in the kitchen of my childhood home, wearing an apron over her work clothes to make dinner, talking on our phone, with the curled cord stretched across the kitchen. Then I remember my grandmother at Christmas, wearing one with a ruffle and a poinsettia on it, barking orders about setting the table. And I had a vision. Generations of my women, stretched back as far as I could see, all wearing their aprons. All of the sudden I felt it. The solidarity of the apron

I ponder this newfound sisterhood as I stroll between frying bacon and my laptop, talking to my office on my cell phone. I am a woman of my times. In 2012, many of us balance it all. Work, kids, home, volunteering, socializing. But really, we are not any different than the women that came before us. I am a woman who is getting it done. Just like the woman standing in her kitchen 50 years ago baking a pie, watching her kids play outside, and planning her day in her head. Or the one wearing her apron while she gets water at a well 150 years ago. We are all the same, us mothers. Yelling at our kids not to get lolly pop in their hair and talking to friends and washing dishes. Staying busy, getting it done. Wearing our aprons. Cause that's how we roll.

Lucy's in the club. She's down with the apron.


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