Just Call Me June Cleaver

Now listen the feminist side of me sort of rages about what I did with my day today, but all the rest of me is totally okay with it so I just let it go. Lily went to Nana's to bake cookies, Rosie had UIL and didn't need a sitter today, and I was left with one nine month old child that spends a huge amount of her day napping. Basically, for the first time in a long time I had some free time. So I popped out my Pinterest. And before I knew it a good friend had brought over some banana bread, we had full mugs of coffee and we were discussing everything from Clara's costume in the Nutcracker to the sanctity of Communion. All the while I was cooking up a few loaves of French Bread in the oven.

So, yeah, basically I was June Cleaver. I even wore an apron. May I digress a little here. Now I have seen all sorts of poems and emails about the "good ole days" when mommy's wore aprons and they all seemed a little patronizing. (Because they were.) which is shame because it totally put me off the apron idea. Today corrected that situation because in my bread making frenzy I just sort of forgot about it and left it firmly cinched around my waist and learned that it is truly the most functional piece of fabric in my home. Who knew?

Anyways instead of redeeming my lazy day I read about a million books to Ava, went for a long walk and spent her second nap watching Season Two of Downton Abbey and eating Nutella.

Rage feminist rage. Ill just stick to scarfing chocolate and and watching period dramas thankyouverymuch.