My Cecile Brunners are blooming. Which has nothing to do with this post. Let’s call it a pretty diversion.

What a week! It’s been a chaotic mess of me figuring out wicking and realizing I needed to reorder all sorts of supplies and spilling more wax than I thought possible and testing, testing, testing. And more testing. And somewhere during the week my kid grew.

I think it was Thursday when he passed me in the kitchen and said, “Um, mom. My underwear is TOO small.”

“Uh huh, honey. Gotcha. But I’m kinda in the middle of pouring right now. I need to concentrate.”

“Ok, but, they’re REALLY tight.”

Sigh.

Seriously? Does he ever stop growing? No.  No he does not. Nor does he stop eating. And it seems like there should be a correlation between those two things and that I could simply stop one and fix the other. But that only makes him hungrier.  Teenage boys are big sucking sounds on your wallet. You people with girls have NO IDEA.

Anyhow, this week. So, I filed the note about underwear in the “to do this weekend” portion of my brain. Miraculously, I sorted out orders and sourcing and all my wicking issues (thank you Heather for praying me out of wicking purgatory!) so, this morning I whipped out a tape measure and eagle eyed my “boy”.

“WHAT?? Your waist is 31 inches!”

“I told you I was getting fat.”

“Oh please, you’re not fat! You’re growing and kinda lazy. But seriously, kid, 31 inches?”

“Yeah, well, I’d still like to know my BMI.”

Sigh.

For the record, he knows his BMI because a very expensive (cough $200!) 15 minute appointment with his doctor in February cleared that little issue up for him. He’s normal and healthy and on course to be 6’2″. I could have told you that for free.

I’m no fan of the Fred Meyer. But when you live on the edge of nowhere,  it’s the only place to go when you need underwear for your rapidly growing child. I did a mad-dash to the boy’s department, optimistically picked up a package of EXTRA LARGE underwear, and read the measurements on the back..

Let’s all laugh at Wende’s moment of denial. Hanes XL boys underwear will fit children with waists of 23″ -25″.

I stared at the package for a few moments, hoping against hope, that it was just my eyesight and poor reading skills. But it finally dawned on me: It’s official. I’m surrounded by MEN. Which meant I needed to go buy MEN’S underwear.

Um, I don’t even know where the men’s underwear department is in Fred Meyer. I don’t buy Men’s underwear. I buy my foundations in the lingerie department and my kid’s underwear in the children’s department. I don’t venture past the jeans in the Men’s Department and I never have. The one time I tried to buy underwear for IZ it was a complete debacle. He hated them, rolled his eyes, and was vociferously whiney about the  whole thing.

And NO, it’s not like I bought him a thong!

But, it wasn’t what he was used to. And apparently, that’s important. So, years ago I opted for marital bliss and left IZ to his own devices in that arena, never expecting that I’d have to venture in again.

I know what you’re thinking right about now. Why not send IZ? Right? No… not right.

But the boy needed new  underwear, so I ventured. Men kept giving me sideways glances. Really? Is this a club house? Women aren’t allowed? And why are there so many of you here anyhow? Don’t you have some sport-cast to watch over in the Electronics department? Seriously? It was humiliating and confusing. I sheepishly browsed the  aisles, reading packages on the fly, and finally settling on the same thing he’s always worn but in a man’s size MEDIUM.

On the way home from the store, I was trying to explain to IZ, who drove me, why I got the kid a Medium.

“The small said waists sizes 28″-30″. He’s a 31. Don’t you think bigger is better?” I asked. What do I know about men’s underwear, anyhow?

“Yeah, but 32’s? That seems kinda large. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, let’s see.” At this point, I pulled out a pair from the bag and held them up. I can’t imagine what people must have thought driving past us. Me being animated with a really big pair of boy panties!

“Holy cow! Wende, those are huge!”

“But the package said. . .”

” They look big to me, but let’s just take them home and see.”

Yeah, they do look big. They look big because your kid has been wearing underwear 3 sizes too small for God knows how long. Which, when you think about it, gives a completely new meaning to the term”tighty white-ys”.

However, if pressed, I’m going to tell you he grew this week. I’m pretty sure it was on Thursday.