My apron is my uniform. I had to come up with a name for this spot on the web, and as I was mulling things over, a recent conversation with N popped into my head. As we were bustling around one day, picking up after breakfast, N went and opened the broom closet and pulled one of my aprons off the nail. He drug it across the floor and held it up to me saying “You forgot your apron, Mom!” I’m a messy cook, I’m always picking things up off the floor and sticking them in my pockets, I often gather up an armful of something to transport from one spot to another, I need to wipe off my hands many times in a day -- these are a few of the reasons I wear an apron. As far as the Strings go, I’m very happy to have little ones tugging on them. It is exciting to watch my children look to the time when they won’t need to hold on so tightly. I’m still adjusting to the fact the two are no longer needing that connection to Mom. So, there it is, and here I am.