Perfect Apron : : : A Tutorial

There are a LOT of amazing bloggers out there. So many, in fact, that I could (and have!) easily lose myself for hours at a time out there in bloggity-land. The ones that really suck me in though are the crafting blogs. I love Dana's creativity over at MADE, and the fun projects at Noodleheads, and the endless link-ups at Tatertots and Jello and Blue Cricket, and, and, and...well, the list could go on forever.

At any rate, the point is that I am certainly not filled with the creative power of some better known mommy bloggers, but I still enjoy creating, and as a little thank you to the few of you who do come by here, and to the awesome crafty inspiration out there, I thought I'd share some of my little crafts too.

So, without further ado, here is my tutorial for pretty much the best apron ever.

I have a few of these I made for myself (I was inspired by a photo from The Mayfly), but I made this (along with the little oven mitt) one as one of the surprise handmade items for the giveaway that I held, oh...fifty years ago. (The pattern for the mitts can be found here--LOVE THEM!)

When I cook and clean, I am not really a fan of big, frilly aprons. Rather, I like something that can get the job done, and that I don't have to worry about getting dirty. I also like something I can dry my hands on, because an apron just isn't functional if you can't actually USE it. As I thought about the best material for an apron, I realized that flour sack tea towels are just about the best place to start.

For each apron, you will want two flour sack towels (you can find these pretty inexpensively at Target or WalMart, though I've heard they even show up at the dollar store sometimes).

Wash the towels on HOT first, because they will shrink quite a bit the first time they are washed. Then line up two of the towels and iron them, because they will also wrinkle quite a bit the first time they are washed.

After the tea towels have been pressed, fold them in half and cut the open corner off into a rounded shape. You may need to cut all edges but the fold, because the tea towels often shrink to wonky sizes. I try to use as much of the tea towel as possible though.
{Here's a terrible diagram of how to cut. Make sure your fold is on the opposite side from where you are cutting the curve!}

Go ahead and set this part aside. We'll work on the waist band next. 

I prefer a thicker waistband--about 2.5 to 3 inches wide. You want to cut the fabric of your waistband half an inch wider than DOUBLE the width. So for a 2.5 inch waist band, you need to cut 5.5 inches wide. For a 3 inch waistband, cut 6.5 inches wide. 

If you are working with 45 inch wide fabric, you probably want to cut three strips of your waistband fabric so that you have plenty of excess to tie into when putting this on. 

{You can see my totally classy sewing notions box in the background here...but that's called recycling!}

{Line it up...and slice it!}

Once you have your three strips of fabric (that are half an inch wider than DOUBLE your desired waistband width....), it is time to sew the strips together. You will want to sew them on the bias to make the seams less obvious. Don't worry--it isn't as tricky as it sounds, and if you're like me you will only mess up twice won't mess up at all.

Lay out one strip of the waist band fabric. Lay another piece, right sides together, at a right angle. Then sew at a diagonal across the plane where the two overlap.

{Hopefully you can sew in a straighter line than I can draw...} 

{Sewing!}

Once you finish that seam, trim off the excess to a quarter inch from the stitches. Repeat this with the third strip of waistband fabric, and press the seams to the right. 

Next, fold the waist band in half and mark the center point. 

Lay it above your apron piece (still folded in half) 

Then mark the waistband (on both sides) where the apron piece ends. The end marks will tell you what to leave open as you sew the waistband so that you can slide in the apron. 

Next, fold the waistband in half "hot dog" style, making one loooong strip. Make sure your right sides are together and sew the strip from end to end, but make sure to leave an opening where you put your marks in the previous step. 

At the ends of your strip, sew at a diagonal, to make the waistband ties tapered, then trim to 1/4 inch. 

 Turn the waistband right-side-out and press it. We'll come back to this in a bit.
{Here's the opening I left--this is where we'll slide the apron in so that we can actually wear it.}

Next, we'll work on that cute little pocket. I cut two pieces of fabric, about 6 inches by six inches.

Then, I folded it in half, and very similar to the apron itself, rounded out the bottom corners. With right sides together, sew around the sides and bottom. You can leave the top, flat side open. Turn it back right-side-out, and press.

Then, I used biased tape (you can make it yourself, or be lazy like me and get some at the store. Because in all honesty, making bias tape binding is my LEAST favorite sewing-related activity. For the record, I DID make the binding for the oven mitt because I wanted it to be 100% cotton so it didn't melt. But I'm not worried about melting aprons, so polyester is my friend in this case.) Cut it about 1/2 to 1 inch longer than the top of the pocket.

Apply one side as shown, sewing close to the crease. 

Then roll the binding over, tuck the excess ends in, and sew near the edge (making sure to also run over the rolled over binding on the other side).

Voila! A pocket. 

While you're at it, use that same binding to trim the outer edges of the apron as shown below. Then you can sew on the pocket with just a top-stitch around the three sides. (I guess you could sew the top too...but then you'd have a patch, NOT a pocket...)

Now, grab that waistband and slide the apron up into the open center space you left. 

Sew all the way across the bottom of the waist band, which will top-stitch the previous seam, and close the apron into the waist band. 

And look! You have a finished apron (which clashes madly with you your hippie-esque tie-dyed shirt that your sister is probably laughing in her head about as she reads this)! It's perfect for getting dirty, drying your hands, or just prancing around in while you fancy yourself domestic. 

Jenny, I hope you enjoy your apron and mitt! 

{This weekend...}

Here's what is on my weekend to-do list...

: : : I will finish something on the hook.

{Perhaps this?} 

: : : I will lay in the grass while the fall breeze runs over the yard.

: : : We will bake.

: : : We will scour the pumpkin patch for the most magnificent pumpkin to ever grace a stoop.

{Although...we might already have it, but if you don't set a goal, you'll never reach it...}

: : : We will capture some of those perfect autumn leaves which are falling all around us.

: : : The Mister will be studying...a LOT.

: : : The Mister will be watching football...a LOT. (Keep your fingers crossed for Tennessee...somehow, the week is always better when they win...Go VOLS!)

: : :I will finally get my birthday cake. And maybe, if I'm really lucky, I'll get to go out for a birthday movie.

Hope your weekend is perfect!

Wednesday...

Sick again in the little home in Idaho....

We've all been sharing a nasty cold around here, but poor Mister's been sick ten days. His classes are super intense this semester and I think it is taking a toll on him, or at the very least, prolonging his illness.

He had his very first cup of tea last night. He woke up coughing his brains out--really, I'm pretty sure he lost some--and I asked him if he wanted me to make him some tea. He looked at me like he thought I might be trying to play a trick on him, and said, "I don't know...what is it? How do I...? I don't know...." So I made the poor guy a cup of orange ginger tea, and wouldn't you know, it actually helped. Today, he even requested I fill his thermos with it before he leave for the library. (And he insisted I had to do it, because he didn't know how...you know, because hot water and a tea bag CAN be pretty darn tricky...)

At any rate, with the cooler weather and the sickies going around, we've enjoyed snuggling up in blankies and sipping our tea together.

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While I've been sitting around miserably, I found some super fun links I thought I'd share:

Free ADORABLE printables from Paper Glitter. Check her blog out too. You might just experience cuteness overload, and I can't wait to print some out for me and the kiddos.

Free printable 2011 Owl Calendar at My Owl Barn. There are thirty one-of-a-kind pictures to choose from to personalize your calendar and download as a PDF.

{This little guy is just waiting to count the days for you!}

Crochet inspiration HERE

{Yummy yarn is calling my name. Can you believe I have never made a Granny Square? I can't}

People who know us know that we LOVE Halloween in our house, and that means I totally heart fun and spooky projects. The girls over at Eighteen25 hosted a link party for Halloween inspiration, and oh.my. 495 linkies so far--there is a Halloween project for anyone! Check it out!
Beyond the link party, they have tons of fabulous decorating ideas. This glorious cabinet display just fills me with envy:

Also, I'm pretty sure that once I am feeling 100%, these are definitely getting made: Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Cookies with Cherries and Pecans via the Sprouted Kitchen. Mmmm...
{Seriously...doesn't this photo make you want to go bake right NOW?}

Of to mend. I have a couple of tutorials of my own in the works. We'll see if I actually manage to pump them out.

Autumn in the high desert...

Little Bird and I went for a drive while Squirrel was in preschool. We stopped to play at a park along the Snake River and enjoyed the subtle turn in seasons peeping out around us.

"Where grow still the apple trees...their fruit still wild and ciderish to my taste."

I'm beginning to think we live in the greatest place in the world. Aside from the months of nearly-arctic winter, this place is a veritable Eden.

The University has an orchard here on campus, with over 100 varieties of apples. We took a weekend opportunity to spend some time tasting, picking, and piling up all the delicious fruit we could justify.

 

 

{Cherries too!}

 

{As in Eden, there is forbidden fruit. We can't pick these, but they sure are tempting...}

Best part about apples? Apple crisp, courtesy of the Mister. YUM!

"As I stand over the insect..."

"...crawling the pine needles on the forest floor and endeavoring to conceal itself from my sight and myself why it will cherish those humble and hide its head from me who might perhaps be its benefactor and impart to its race some cheering information I am reminded of the greater Benefactor and Intelligence that stands over me, the human insect. "

Well, hello, grasshopper...

I am often astounded by the intricacy and originality of my Maker's designs, and find myself marveling even at the tiniest of His fellows. And I feel a little guilty for tormenting the thing, hanging over it to take a picture, and then allowing Squirrel to put him (and a handful of grass) into a teapot for several hours.

He lives to hop another day, though I doubt he'll be landing on our welcome mat again, if he can help it.

"...all the motions of a squirrel..."

"...imply spectators as much as those of a dancing girl..."

Squirrel began ballet last week. She's pretty ecstatic about it...

And VERY proud of her new shoes (even if she isn't allowed to wear them outside).

She is still learning to listen without talking the whole time, or dancing her own style...

She also hasn't stood in line before, and keeps sneaking to the front when she thinks no one is looking. 

But...I'm pretty sure she'll be awesome. She'll be on point in no time, don't you think?

"Every child begins the world again, to some extent..."

When I was pregnant with Squirrel, I remember my assistant principal at the school I worked said to me, "There are three true emotions you never know the meaning of until you have children: love, guilt, and fear." I am not sure truer words have ever passed my ears, and the expression has stuck with me over these few years of motherhood I have muddled through. The most interesting thing about motherhood though, is not the experience of these emotions; surely, in my own unremarkable existence, I have had the pleasure and pain of feeling all three of these emotions at one time or another. Rather, the fact is that until I became a mother, I did not understand the depth to which these emotions can carry us, or the messy way in which they seem to entangle one another.

Squirrel began her first day of preschool this week. She was positively bursting with excitement, and admittedly, I was as well.

Squirrel is a hard kid to describe. I am told often by my mother and older siblings that she is much like I was as a child. She loves everything and everyone. She is not just a happy kid, but a child filled with wonder at all the things around her. She has a fantastic sense of humor, one that makes me laugh to tears. She thinks deep and plays hard. And above all things, she is nothing but herself. She has no fear about expressing herself, and both literally and figuratively dances to her very own tune. And so, in those respects, the comparisons I get between her and I make sense to me. My perception of her is what I remember of my own childhood. I too was carefree, a little off the wall, and was comfortable with being just the way I was. I love this child deeply and fiercely, and I love her all the more because she has in her what I would consider the best of me. 

As a mother though, this is where things get sticky. 

Love is a beautiful and powerful emotion. It is also an intensifier. Any emotion one feels, good or bad, can be radically magnified by this first emotion. 

I remember myself as a child being, like Squirrel, sometimes shy, but never ashamed. I remember recognizing the fact that I was different than a lot of kids, goofy and carefree, and unfazed by social stigmas. In short, I was kind of weird. But I was smart, and I knew I was loved, I had the greatest best friend a kid could ever ask for. I recognized by second or third grade that I would never be "popular," but the fact suited me just fine: I was far happier simply being me than conforming to the social pressures that begin emerging so early among grade school kids. As a young child, I think there is no greater gift one can be given than to have a sure sense of self...just like I had, and just as I hope Squirrel is developing for herself. 

Unfortunately, the young years never really prepare us for the blows of adolescence, that singular, dubious time. This sense of self, which kept me worry-free, and ignored by childhood bullies, began to make me stand out. I became a target, and though I held out for a long time, the inevitable began to happen. My faith, my intelligence, my peculiar sense of humor--all the things I had found safety in--were suddenly fodder to the adolescent animals around me. In most ways, I was still me, but suddenly everything I did or said filled me with self doubt and loathing, and every word people said to me, kind or not, was laced with double meanings and criticism. I let myself fall into some bad choices and relationships, simply because I started second-guessing that self worth. I built a wall to hide myself and drew inward. 

It is this period of my life that fills me with fear and guilt for my child. Logically, I know those years are far off. I know there are far greater struggles than I endured. I know that preschool a few days a week is hardly akin to sending her off into the lion's den. But there is still the fact that I am steadily marching toward that precise inevitability. I want nothing in the world more that for her to be sure of who she is, but worry that my own endowments are too scant. I feel guilty that I gave up on that sense of self, as though my past will someday say to her, because of our similarities, that she is not enough. And I already anticipate the guilt I will bear, when unlike her current pains, the scrapes and bruises of her spirit will not be fixed with bandaids and pink lemonade.

This wall I hid behind took many messy years to break back down, and still, I find my clumsy feet tripping now and again over the rubble left behind. There is no one and nothing to blame for those laborious years. It was simply life--experience, the nature of teens, and the patterns and tendencies of social constructs. But these experiences fill me with a repressive, heavy fear. And my own love, my positive joy in seeing who she is turning out to be, makes that fear more poignant because the stakes are so much higher for my own children.

The world cannot know how exquisite this child is. It cannot know how perfect and kind, how innocent and brilliant, how joyful and exuberant she is. It will not handle her with the care necessary to preserve her indefinitely. And yet, inevitably, I must send her into this world. I must trust that the gifts she has been given are sufficient and that her meager inheritance is somehow multiplied in the generational gap. And I will watch, as those three old emotions, awakened by my new role as mother, tangle and interweave around me, compounded and intensified by one another, as my child weathers the storms life has laid out for her.