Entry #71

Entry #71

 Monday, May 21

11:00 a.m. Some people have no idea how loudly they’re speaking, nor do they contemplate the fact that others will hear them, especially in an enclosed area. Today I overheard a woman yelling into her cell phone, “Yes, we managed to get those security tags off. Finally! I told the lady that I didn’t steal them. If I was going to steal something, it sure wouldn’t be a $5 dress!”

5:00 p.m. After school today, we met up with Sam and his mom for ice cream to celebrate the completion of his comic book. Before leaving, Sam’s mom said, “You really need to see the movie Bernie. It’s got all that stereotypical Texas stuff in it...You'd love the accents!” She told me that she knows someone who’s in the movie, the mother of a sorority sister. “I saw the name Kay Baby and thought there couldn’t be too many people by that name.”

Turns out this woman was a hair stylist, and her claim to fame was cutting Elvis’ hair (as well as the hair of his band members). Sam’s mom is apparently a big Elvis fan, and was lucky enough to receive some photos from Mrs. Baby (now Baby Epperson). The filmmakers welcomed locals to audition for the movie, a mock documentary, and Kay Baby was among those selected. I can certainly see why.

Tuesday, May 22

1:00 p.m. An email from Etsy just popped into my inbox with the subject line, “Faux Real.” I did a double take. How did Etsy know about Faux Real (in Texas)? Turns out they don't. They're simply featuring an assortment of faux real items, all listed beneath the header, “Say It Ain’t Faux!” Offerings include faux diamonds, leather, wood, guns and food (both made of soap), rocks, and even faux taxidermy, including “a mighty grizzly bear’s behind!”

8:30 p.m. The long-awaited school play was this evening, and while the practices were extensive, to say the least, the play itself was surprisingly fun. It went by in a blink—it was only 45 minutes long—but was chock-filled with colorful costumes, scenery, and kids of all ages. Aidan made the most of his one-liner and hammed it up in some pre-show photos. 

After the play, the kids changed out of their costumes and gathered outside for a spontaneous game of kickball. “It’s great that the kids all play together,” said a mom standing next to me. It’s true—little kids and big kids all lined up to take turns kicking the ball. That's one advantage of attending a school small enough that everyone interacts—preschoolers with high schoolers, and everyone in-between.

Wednesday, May 22

11:00 a.m. After walking Izzie twice around the reserve today, letting her swim in the pond, then romp with dogs along the way, she was completely encrusted with wet, grayish sand. I planned to take her home and shower her off, but got waylaid by my friend, René, who convinced me last-minute to follow her to Rudy’s Peach Orchard. 

“Have you ever heard of Rudy’s Peaches? It’s been there forever, but it’s closing!" said René. "Today’s the last day Rudy’s selling peaches, starting at ten o’clock.” I told her I really had to wash Izzie. “But it’s a piece of history. You’ve gotta go!” said René. So I went. And I’m sure glad I did, dirty dog and all.

We arrived before ten, and there was already a long line, mostly of seniors who I imagine were longtime customers. Rudy kept going out back to pick another dozen peaches. He came out drenched with sweat. “I’ve done this for 22 years and it’s enough,” he said when I asked him why he was closing.

Rudy and his wife weren’t looking all that chipper. Seems they’re just plumb-tuckered. But they grow some wonderfully fragrant peaches. Delicious cucumbers and “tomato,” too. I’m told we can come back and go blackberry picking there, so that might be fun.

The closing of Rudy’s Peach Orchard marks the end of an era in The Woodlands. I think it’s the last family-owned farm left in the area. I’m going to savor my prized box of peaches. “One box per customer,” said Rudy’s wife firmly. She was a no-nonsense kinda gal who seemed miffed that she was working the register altogether. By the time we left, there was a long line of people, all hoping there were enough peaches to go around. Seems we got there just in time.

2:00 p.m. I just went downstairs because I heard an odd banging sound and couldn’t figure out what it was. Turns out a young bird got inside as well as a butterfly (I’d left the door ajar for Izzie, who likes to go in and out a lot). The poor bird kept banging against the window, trying to get out. I went to get something to see if I could catch the bird and release it, but figured I’d free the butterfly first. I cupped my hands around the butterfly and it held perfectly still. Upon opening my hands, it flew away.

When I got back inside, the bird was gone, too. Maybe the bird followed me out. Or maybe it's still somewhere in the house. I’ll find out soon enough.

4:30 p.m. Turns out the bird was still inside the house. I found out right as I was backing out of the driveway. Noah opened the front door and yelled, “Mom! The bird’s in my room!” “Close the door,” I said, as I got out of the car and ran upstairs.

I brought up a badminton racket and a kids’ butterfly net and found the bird fluttering in-between the blinds. It went to hide in the corner behind Noah’s desk, where I managed to catch it—with the aid of Aidan’s handy toys. When I lifted up the racket outside, the bird flew away into the trees. “I’m so glad you rescued the bird, Mom,” said Aidan.

Thursday, May 24

10:30 a.m. This is the kids’ last full day of school, and it’s literally ending with a "splash!" There’s a public pool near the school, complete with a giant swan in the ankle-deep wading area. (Perhaps a sign, "No Swan Dives" might be a good idea.)

Noah, however, seemed reluctant about Splash Day this morning. First he couldn’t find his swimsuit, then he happened to forget it. He thinks his above-the-knee swim trunks are too short, since most of his shorts come down below the knees. Maybe I should show him some photos of men in teeny Speedos so he can see what truly short bathing suits look like.

On the way to school we listened to a book on tape, one of the Rick Riordan series, which involves a variety of Greek and Roman gods. The narrator was reading the part of Ares with a low, Southern accent. “It figures that the God of War would be a Texan,” muttered Aidan.

Saturday, May 26

2:30 p.m. Aidan's first foray into playing Texas football (touch, not tackle) has been sorely lacking until today, specifically the last quarter of the last game. In previous games, the kids would simply pass to their close buddies, but today Aidan finally got his chance. Not only did he catch a pass, he also scored an amazing touchdown. I cheered like a lunatic. There's a lot to be said about ending on a good note, and a touchdown in the final minutes of the final game was a veritable symphony.

Noah was watching the game from the shaded periphery, along with other parents who were trying (in vain) to stay cool. We overheard a man and woman chatting about food and sports, and they encapsulated Texas in a nutshell:

Food (man to woman): "I was raised in a household where if it wasn't fried, it wasn't worth eating."

Sports (woman to man): "You can't be a two-sport person anymore. You have to decide when your kid's a toddler what he's gonna do. If you don't have experience by seventh grade, it's too late."

Weather: My cousin, Micki, drove in from Dallas today to visit us for the weekend. The last time we saw her she couldn't believe how humid it was here. "While I was sitting in the sauna with my friend last week, I told her, 'This is how hot Houston is.'" 

Monday, May 28
Memorial Day

In just two days (May 30), Aidan will be 12. He’s no longer the comfortable chin rest he was just a year ago. With shoes on, he is nearly as tall as I am. Pretty soon I’ll be the shortest person in the house, which is bizarre considering I’m 5’7”. Where'd my two little boys go? Time has flown.

Seems this past year hasn’t so much whizzed by as meandered, but the kids made it through, and are excited that the summer’s nearly here. In less than two weeks, Noah will be leaving for San Francisco, his first solo trip away from family, to attend the graduation ceremony of eighth graders at Prospect Sierra School, the school he attended from kindergarten until just last year. He’ll be staying with friends and can’t wait to be back “home.”

Aidan, Izzie and I will be arriving the following week, and David will be coming shortly thereafter. Between our journeys to California, Ohio and D.C., we’ll be gone for a whopping eight weeks. We’ll return just in time to catch the tail end of the sizzling Texas summer and prepare for school.

Noah will be entering high school this fall, and I’m just flummoxed by this. I still think about the day I stood outside his kindergarten classroom talking with parents of fellow kindergartners about high school and how far away that seemed. “It’ll be here before you know it,” said one parent. And so it is.

In the words of Dale Evans Rogers, “Happy trails to you...” I’ll look forward to sharing more adventures in the Faux Real heartland of Texas when we meet again.