Truck Draw

Tuesdays, Hatice cleans. And often, we try to find somewhere else to be at lunchtime. Cluttering up the kitchen while she is trying to clean it, is not helpful. So eat out we often do. We went to "The Club", the only real restaurant on Base. It's sort of like a Chili's without quite the same quality of food or the same quality of atmosphere. Or the lemonade. 

The boys spend the minutes that they wait for their corn dogs coloring. Or, should I say, asking JB to color things for them. Yesterday, Isaac asked JB to draw a pick-up truck. John did. Then Isaac asked him to put a car in the back of the pick-up truck. John did. (All the while holding Abigail in his other arm.) Here's what they came up with:

Then it was Elijah's turn. He asked for a green pick-up. Done. Then he asked for a man in the back. Done again. Only, when JB gave the picture back to Elijah, Elijah did not like the man in the back of the truck. "I want me!" he said, informing JB that the man in the back of the pick-up didn't look like him. So Elijah "fixed" the picture by scribbling the man out, as shown below.

Truly it is the small things about being a mom that I treasure so much. And recording them on my blog helps keep my perspective. Yesterday had been a tough day, and reflecting on the small joys makes me to see the highlights instead of the lowlights. 

My lowest two moments? Firstly, it was getting all the kids out in the van, in the rain, and going to the post office with two packages I needed to mail, only to find that the post office was, randomly, closed. For some training day or something. Big time bummer.

The second low? Hatice opening the door and Scrubby making a decision that it was time, with the rain pouring down and the mud running thick and the puddles ankle high and me not having a car, to go on a "Scrubby-adventure." Scrubs is off leash outside with us all the time. But every once-in-a-while, randomly, he will decide his life is too boring, and he will leave. He always comes back. But he will come back in those moments, on his terms. And his terms alone. 

Hatice apologized. It wasn't her fault. Scrubs is strong. And when Scrubs decides, the decision is made. 

I had two little boys doing a failing-miserably-craft on the counter (more on that in an upcoming post) and a little girl screaming in her neglecta-saucer, and a housekeeper who just got over pneumonia, and me, with the rain and a runaway dog, and no car. 

"What should I do?" Hatice asked me in Turkish.

And I told her to just leave him. Forget it. Let him get a new family. I was so frustrated. I couldn't, in my perplexity, remember the turkish word for new, but I remembered family, and when I said it, she told me that she was sure I did not mean it. 

She asked me if I really meant it. She told me not to stress so much. She said she would get her umbrella out and go try to find Scrubs. 

But it wouldn't work. Not on foot. In the rain. Ugh!

Figuring he'd come back, I left the front door open and waited. And waited. And waited. Hatice went home for the day. We cleaned up our definitely-failed-miserably-craft, and I put Abigail down for a nap. 

Then I called Mr. Shane. Thank Heavens for Mr. Shane. Shane is adored by Scrubby. Shane has a jeep. Shane is done with work for the day. Shane can find him. And Shane does. He is back at my house in less than fifteen minutes with a very wet and muddy dog on leash. Good friends are so wonderful. 

These two trucks will remind me of the joy of yesterday.