All dressed up and nowhere to go

After I left the viewing for my uncle last night, I headed to a holiday party with friends that I knew would run late into the evening.

I knew we would need to get up early to head out for the funeral this morning, so I traded dozens of text messages from the party, telling the kids to find their dress clothes. Getting three teenage boys crammed and stuffed into suits, ties and dress shoes is like herding cats, and I wanted no surprises this morning.

As I exchanged holiday gifts with my friends, I texted the kids with instructions to find their nice clothes before any Friday evening activities ensued. And once I received back messages saying the clothes had been located, I demanded  photographic proof. Years of experience have taught me that a text message reading ‘I’ve got my dress socks’ can mean ‘I’ll FIND my dress socks once I’m done playing Halo, before you get home, and you’ll never know the difference. Until I forget to find the dress socks, and I fall asleep.’

Tyler had his clothes in place, no surprise.

Jordan’s clothes were easy to locate because I’d just had them dry cleaned after the last Cotillion dance.

Chase was another story.

He sent me a text saying he’d found pants and a shirt, but couldn’t find the shoes.

I sent him back a text saying he was to do nothing else until he found those shoes.

We went back and forth for an hour, and I started to wonder if maybe we’d donated his last pair of dress shoes to charity.

The real problem with getting teen boys dressed in proper clothing is no locating the clothing, it’s locating clothes that fit. The period from Christmas to Easter usually requires at least one new set of dress shoes, Easter to Christmas can require new clothes for everyone. Throw in a random band concert, and the onslaugh of funerals we’ve endured, and I cannot keep the dress clothes or the shoe sizes straight. Fortunately, with three boys and a husband, I can usually go from closet to closet and piece together an outfit that fits.

More than once, I’ve made Jordan cram his size 12 feet into shoes too small for an hour long event once or twice.

I finally decided we would make a mad dash into Payless this morning to get Chase some dress shoes, and I let him off the hook and told him to set the pants and shirt aside, we would deal with shoes on the way.

I got up this morning and started getting ready. I’ve been so busy with the trip to Atlanta and work, that I haven’t made it to the dry cleaners. I cheated and decided to throw some dress clothes into a Dryel Bag (thank you Dryel, I owe you) but I could not find the dress pants I wanted. I’m still limited in my dress clothes after losing weight, and I could not find the slacks I wanted, no matter where I looked. I finally gave up and settled on another pair.

Another lesson I’ve learned the hard way is that no one gets their dress clothes on until we have 15 minutes left. Otherwise, someone ends up dropping a blob of toothpaste, a drop of jelly, or spilling juice on their clothes, and all hell breaks loose.

The clock ticked down, they started getting into the real clothes and Chase stood in my bathroom tucking in his shirt. All of a sudden, I looked down at his pants and noticed something funny. Those pants were looking awfully snug. I’m thinking, I don’t think they make mens dress pants to look like hip huggers with boot cut bottoms.

I stopped and said, “Chase, where did you get those pants?”

“From the dry cleaned clothes, why?”

“Turn around,” I said.

He obliged, and I yanked out the back like I was looking at his underwear.

“MOM, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!”

“Hold still,” I said.

I yanked the back of the pants back, stared down at the tag, and here is what I saw:

So that’s where my missing pants went. Right onto my 14 year old son.

I started to howl with laughter.

“What are you laughing at,” he asked.

“Those are my work pants,” I said.

He stared at me blankly.

“Since you couldn’t find your dress shoes, I have a great pair of black heels that go great with that outfit.”

You’ve never seen a kid strip out of pants so quickly; he was like the Flashed Lighting of stripping, it’s a little scary.

He was able to fit into my husband’s dress shoes and we ran into Target for yet another pair of dress pants.

I don’t think he’s taking clothes from my dry cleaning bag anymore.

It’s okay, Chase. I promise not to tell anyone you nearly spent your entire Saturday in my dress pants.

It can be our secret.

But wow, you’ve got great taste!

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