A dilemma type of problem

I have a problem. Now, I do know that "problem" is probably on the list of dead words and I should use something more grown up like dilemma but this is more of a problem so I'm sticking with it. Or maybe it is a dilemma?

My son has been made famous by hedgehogs and if you haven't yet seen his documentary, it's way past time for you to do so. But his endeavors have earned him a student Emmy. If you didn't know such a thing existed, neither did I so don't feel bad.  Anyway, I will be accompanying him to the awards ceremony where he will be thanking the little people in his life (that would be me, his grandmother, and his sister), and the ones who brought him into this world (that would also be me and I guess The Good Doctor, too), and the ones who made him the wonderful, creative, and talented person he is today (again, moi). Except that he just informed me that it is a black tie event.

I have never, ever, ever been to a black tie event in my whole entire life. Remember, my preferred clothing choice would be jeans and a sweatshirt or even sweats and a sweatshirt. Also keep in mind that my sweats are hand-me-downs from my brother (I still don't even know how that happened since we are separated in height by at least a foot) from way back in my college days and my favorite sweatshirt is also at least 7 years old. And do keep in mind that this Mennonite has never owned anything even close to a black tie event dress.

We need to also remember that I hate to shop. Hate. To. Shop. And it would also behoove us to remember that money does not grow on trees at my house; children do. We do not have the latest technology, or electronics - or clothes - we have children. A dress for a black tie event was not in the budget for this month. Or for this year. So this thrift-shop buying, hand-me-downs wearing mother of eight needs to find a dress that will allow her to eat for the next month. Don't worry, all children will be fed every day of said month, just as they have been fed every day of every month in every year of their lives. Except when they have the stomach flu. At those times I try to discourage any eating unless it is small sips of water or ginger ale or miniscule bites of any of the four items in the BRAT diet. Any other time my children are well fed. If it comes to this, I would be the only one sacrificing for the sake of the dress.

Oh, and on top of all of that, I'm shorter-than-most and this body has housed five children. Any dress I would find would need to be short in stature and flowy enough to conceal that which needs to be concealed.

Now, The Good Doctor told me not to worry; to just pick a dress out of my closet. He doesn't understand. He, too, grew up Mennonite. Now, it is true that he was a more liberal Mennonite being a member of the General Conference Mennonite Church and not just The Mennonite Church. We were a mixed marriage, he being the very kind of man Gertrude from my church warned me about when she scoldingly asked me how I could go to that college? So he may have been allowed to dance, and go to proms, and have a flag, but he grew up in Indiana, in the middle of nowhere, where no one has ever gone to a black tie event. He has no idea what he's talking about. My closet. Funny.

So this is my dilemma. Or problem. Yes, it's definitely a problem.