Apron Strings

“Why are your aprons hanging in your bathroom?” my best buddy Dana asked me the other day. I explained to her, as surely she a mother to three could understand, that this is how it happens…

I tie my apron on about 5pm, as I start dinner for the girls. After I make their dinners (as in ‘s’, plural-- that’s three dinners for four girls; Claire won’t touch cheese, cream or anything from the creaming, gooey, delicious section of the food pyramid, Camille won’t touch meat -staunchly vegetarian-, and the twins want all of it- meat, cheese and goo.) So, I make dinners, pick up the family room, scrape Play Dough off the kitchen table, set their dinner plates on the cleared off table, yell to the girls to come and eat, clean up the dinner dishes, start dinner for the mister and I (he gets home too late for all of us to eat as a family, most nights), crack a beer (sometimes guzzle it, depending upon the decibel level in the house), get the big girls into the shower, get the little girls into my bed to watch a Dora DVD, plate up dinner for the mister and I (who has arrived home), eat, clear up dishes (while the mister gets the girls to bed) and at last, crawl up the stairs into my bathroom, where I finally take my apron off, hang it on the towel rack, put my pyjamas on, brush my teeth and crash into bed (usually on top of two little girls still watching Dora).

And that’s how my aprons end up hanging in the bathroom.