I love aprons. Old, new, retro, campy or classic…it doesn’t matter. I love them all and I actually use them; especially when I’m cooking splattery things like bacon. Aprons stir up memories of my grandmothers, my husband’s sweet granny, my mom when I was little, and Betty Crocker. They’re like a portal to my past. I have very fond kitchen memories from my youth. In 2008, my mother and I decided to make aprons as gifts for our annual Hoegarden weekend. For those new to the blog, that’s our annual “ladies only” family event held each spring. Yes, it’s named after a beer (you can read more about it in my Hoegarden blog tab). Mom and I like to collaborate on homemade gifts each year, and we wanted to make something fun but practical to share. We started this project by selecting a variety of unique fabric prints and patterns.
Once everyone picked a fabric and a style, we went to work. For the record, my mother can sew anything. She made our clothes when we were little. She once made cheerleader uniforms for our high school (at least 10 girls, 2-3 uniforms each). She even made adult-size chicken costumes for a school play (one of which I was wearing when I had my car towed during a hail storm/tornado while I was in high school, but that’s a story for another day). She’s made curtains, shopping bags, baby gifts, pillows, etc. She can make anything, and probably has at one time or another. She has also created some amazing quilts. She’s very talented, but I’ve mentioned that before. Anyway, Mom really enjoyed this project. As she finished each apron, she would pose for a photo. She’s too cute.
I should also clarify that I don’t usually ask my mom do all the work on these projects. It’s just that my old sewing machine died a violent death while making my first apron, so mom stepped up to help with the rest. She’s helpful like that. In the end, we (and I mean she) made ten aprons including a little pirate version for Jonah Bear, who had a “man pass” for the weekend (he was 15 months old). I made most of mine before my machine died and my daughter made her own apron (you go, girl!). Hey, I contributed the fabric and trim, along with lots of moral support, so I helped…a little bit. And now we each have a keepsake from our weekend together. One we can use and enjoy for years to come. Thanks, Mom. You saved the day again. Here’s a tribute to her lovely handiwork: