One of the beautiful aspects of having sons is that I feel happy passing along many of the ‘boy issues’ to Mike. He knows more about dude-man stuff, so he should be the go-to on male-related topics. So, that was my policy when, last week at baseball practice, Matthew was hit with the ball in the family-jewels region. Mike said that we needed to purchase a cup or “Underwear Armor” (as the boys have decided to call it). I said, “Great! Have fun shopping!”

I was actually with Mike for the purchasing of Matthew’s cup (not the kind to drink out of, to clarify for those of you having a hard time following along here). I left the decision making to him as he carefully made the selection for Matthew’s baseball accoutrement.

Tonight was Matthew’s first game ‘o the season and I’d told Mike that I’d like it if he could be home to help Matthew get suited up properly. I don’t want to be responsible for that! Well, unforatunely, our well-thought out plan (Mike getting into work early and leaving work early and meeting us at home) didn’t happen. We ended up having a house-showing, so we couldn’t even be home for getting geared up. I brought Matthew’s stuff and he changed in the back of the car. Unfortunately, Mike also got held up at work so he couldn’t even be there for the back-of-the-mini-van clothes changing. I got Matthew situated as best I could, but I basically figured, ‘he’s a boy, he must have some sort of male instinct to figure out which direction this thing goes’ etc.

I guess it feels a little weird having this big ‘ol piece of hard plastic hanging out right there. Once dressed, Matthew struggled to get his cleats on and reported that it was difficult to bend his legs. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Then I watched as he ‘jogged’ to the field and was horrified to see that his new, uh, accessory, was causing Matthew to do a funky-wide-legged waddle-run unlike anything I’ve ever seen. That’s when I called Mike on the phone and put a little heat under his butt to get to baseball…STAT.

Thankfully, Mike soon arrived and was helping Matthew warm up. Every time I’d glanced over at my son he was attempting to adjust and readjust and maladjust and who-knows-what-adjust his Underwear Armor. As I chased Kayli around the playground I was relieved to know that Mike was there, handling the situation. When I looked over the next time, however, I watched in horror as Matthew, standing in the middle of the field, wiggled and woggled and pop! Pulls out his hand holding the frustrating-non-cooperative plastic cup-piece of torture high above his head like Lady Liberty’s torch. Mike quickly grabbed it and stuck it in his pocket.

Turns out Matthew had it on upside down. And extracting it was tricky. And now we’ve all learned – which direction a cup goes AND that Mommy shouldn’t be the one having to deal with this stuff!