Self-Centered Sunday: The Pinafore

I’m trying out something new here – a specific day designated for writing about myself on my blog.  Yes, I write about myself and my family from time to time on the blog, but these entries might be a bit less journalistic and a bit more reflective.  So, Self-Centered Sunday might come around every week, or maybe not.  I’m not sure yet, but here we go.

When I was young, my mom made a lot of my clothes for me.  A couple of these items somehow avoided countless yard sales and the hand-me-down mill and are still in my possession. One of these things is a smocked pinafore.  I remembered it just recently when declaring to a friend that it was the only piece of smocked clothing that I have ever owned in my life. We were discussing the curious stylings that southern parents choose for their children (no offense ya’ll, but to a midwesterner, smocking, ruffles, and a monogram all on one garment is a little overwhelming). I had declared to my friend that my own children had somehow completely avoided any type of embroidery, ruffle layers, big-ass bows or otherwise clearly southern style.

Almost.

For some reason the pinafore that my mother made for me, still crisp white with all the buttons and clasps intact, found it’s way to hang in Carina’s closet, and when frantically searching for something to wear to last spring’s father-daughter dance at her school, she plucked it from the rod and asked to wear it.  So she did.

I snapped a few pictures of her and her little brother before Daddy, in his matching yellow dress shirt, whisked her off to the dance.

And for some reason, I was so proud. And whistful. Proud, I think, that she wanted to wear something that she knew I had worn when I was little, and that she was so happy to do so.  Maybe it was like a mini version of when daughters wear their mothers’ wedding gowns?  I don’t know.  But for some reason, it made me happy, sentimental, and aware of my adulthood.  Aware that I am so much older than I was when I wore that pinafore, and happy that I can enjoy my daughter’s life during that stage when the biggest worries are about things like what to wear to the dance and when the most desirable date in the whole world is your dad.

The joy and tradition of passing things down seems to be one that is fading in our society.  I am so glad that my mom took the time to create this pinafore for my six year old self, and that she saved it for me and my six year old daughter. I look forward to seeing a six year old grand daughter wearing it some day. I wonder what the world will be like then.

Me in the Pinafore with my siblings, circa 1985

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