Yes, you read it. We’ve been totally dissed. Up till now, Social Workers at our local DCYF (Division Of Children, Youth, And Families) have checked our blog while at work. Of course, I consider this just part of their duty in overseeing our family’s adoption of Benjamin, and monitoring our general sanity-status for the well-being of future foster children. I am sure that is how they were thinking of it too, being the very good DCYF workers that they are :^)
Then the black, bad day came….the day when they turned on their computers, eager to see the next “almost crosses the line” move by the Thorburns.. kids jumping out windows, foot funerals, waking children up at night to take them out for ice cream in their pajamas…and other tidbits of crazy family life sure to keep psychiatrists employed for years and years to come. But that black, bad day — no Thorburn blog appeared. It was BLOCKED BY THE POWERS-THAT-BE AT DCYF. Our little family blog is now a “RESTRICTED SITE” for DCYF workers. No kidding. No freakin kidding.
Why? We don’t know. The possibilities are endless. Maybe someone high up at DCYF just doesn’t like us. We are a little radical in the “religion department,” we’re told. Maybe our kids are just so CUTE that they make all the Social Worker people JEALOUS, and maybe the cuteness hinders their focus during the work day. Maybe they don’t like that we missed those classes we signed up for (gulp). Maybe they DON’T LIKE MY NEW CHAIRS!!!!!! I bet that’s it.
Whatever, we have been totally dissed!!!!! “Talk to the hand,” DCYF
Regardless of your political persuasions, you must admit it is an honor to have a national figure stop by the house on a Tuesday. Sarah Palin stopped by the house today for a photo shoot. (We couldn’t find Lydia anywhere.)
As some of you know, I hurt my foot this Spring and it took forever to heal. I had been on a nighttime 8 mile run w/my highly-svelt and now-gestating (w/child #6) running partner who had kept herself in top shape all winter, while yours-truly hit the bon bon’s. I over-did it on that early Spring run, and at the same time turned my already-hurting foot on a slab of newly laid pavement. Ligaments, tendon assaulted. That was it. The summer was over.
We had a foot funeral for my foot, which can be found under “videos” if you care to view that unfortunate bit of history. There was disappointment, though it certainly was not the end of the world as we had a busy summer and my mind has been on other wonderful things like my husband and five precious kiddos, and preparation for another year of homeschooling.
Oh no, it hasn’t bothered me AT ALL that my almost-15 year old daughter is making great use of all the clothes I fit 3 years ago.. .. that doesn’t affect me in the least. It is a very good thing that I am so spiritual and never long for MY PANTS BACK <twitch, twitch>
Anyhoo, after MONTHS and months of not running, gaining weight, not fitting any of my clothes, not even my “fat clothes”…, Not to mention the fact that I really LOVE to run and it is such a huge part of my health picture… I decided that TODAY is the day. I am getting on the treadmill. This is it. Time to face reality and rein it in, pay this some attention and get back on track. I think my foot is healed.
SO. I got my water, got in my uh.. well, my jammy pants, as my running clothing does not fit at the moment.. and headed for the treadmill at the appointed time on the schedule.
Thus began the 30 minute search for how to get it to unfold. It’s been so long, I can’t even remember!!!! LOL We never did figure it out so I finally submitted to God’s will for my day (ha) and poured a nice glass of wine. I will start tomorrow, after Rich can tell me how to work this thing again! Bottoms up. Diet and “the way back” to my running-life begins.. tomorrow :^) Anna
My mother, Anna, sent this article by email to all of us girls and INSISTED that we read it. She must be forgetting the day she screamed all the way home on a run in a lightning storm, completely unhurt. View the video above as an illustration of the article. In all seriousness, we are taking instruction of these things, though we won’t be legalistic about it. :o) ~Lyd
Screamers, by Nancy Wilson
One of life’s embarrassing characters is the screamer, and screamers show up in various settings. Let’s say you are at an outdoor picnic and someone gets stung by a bee, and thus begins the screaming and flopping on the ground. No one really knows what to do even though everyone knows the unspoken cultural expectation to rally round and offer comfort and what not. But with the over-the-top screaming and shrieking, no one feels compelled to offer the comfort because what is actually needed is someone to tell the person to grow up and blow it out, it was only a bee sting after all.
On two-year-olds we all look at the parents and feel a mix of sympathy and criticism. No one likes to have their child flip out and melt down in public like that, so we feel sorry for the poor parents. At the same time, we wish the parents would step in and correct the child.
It is not wrong to be hurt; but it is wrong to throw a complete fit about it. Learning good conduct, even in pain or fear, is a godly discipline. When a teenage girl falls down and skins her knee in the volleyball game, we expect her to jump up and keep on playing. When she curls up in a ball and starts wailing, we feel ill at ease, wishing she would reel it in. Even if a bone is sticking out of her arm, there is a difference between legitimate cries of pain, and uncontrolled sobbing and yelling, cussing and kicking.
You know what I mean. We delight to see courage and self-control because we admire it wherever we see it. But bad temper and cowardliness are always shameful, no matter what the age of the screamer.Even grown women can over-react when they are hurt, crying and yelling, swearing and complaining, whimpering and fussing when they should be showing courage and strength, faith and self-control.
Screamers never inspire us; they make us feel embarrassed, like we are seeing something that should be off stage.In pain and in fear, we should continue to consider our duties as Christian women. What is your duty when you undergo medical testing or when you slip on the ice? If you stub your toe or fall down the steps, do you shriek and panic or do you gracefully blow it out and control yourself?
Though we might correct a two-year-old (or wish someone would), it is not exactly socially acceptable to tell a grown woman to quit acting like a baby. We would be accused on lacking sympathy and tact. But most people who are out of ear shot will certainly raise their eyebrows and express their disgust at such displays.
Christian women need to keep their duties of glorifying God in mind when they are in pain. We all understand our duties if our child is starting to run out into the street: immediate courage, strength and decisiveness. But we may forget our duty to conduct ourselves in a ladylike and God-fearing manner when we are the one who is afraid or hurting like the dickens. But those women who do handle themselves gracefully during such times always command our respect and gain our admiration.
After much discussion with “the masses” (ha) who read this blog, it seems important to say…*I know* I am no poet. And *I know you know* I am no poet.
And, thank God Almighty that we have English tutors for homeschooling high school writing in this house..I managed to teach my children the basics of various kinds of poetry, owing any success to utilizing well-written curriculums. THIS is the problem with having a blog and “bearing your soul” and all your “family-isms” (I know you’ll have a cow over THAT word.. )… when you have a lot of home-educating friends (or WRITER/EDITOR friends.. hi Jean..) who KNOW EVERYTHING. I am so glad you all know so much in the area of poetry and synta… what was it??.. and the rest.. whatever it was.. LOL.. I get it, and I know it, and I don’t care (ok, well.. I don’t know it).
So here’s for the record that I know that you know that I don’t know, and I don’t care, and I am all set to be “cute,” which I have been called 4 times today so far.
Speaking of education.. today was our first day of school…the first year in my life that I have homeschooled five children. Went quite well. Little things need to be tweaked, the kinds of things you can only know by actually doing it, no matter the amount of careful planning ahead of time. However, the tweaks are quite pleasantly minimal. Maybe I am actually getting to be a decent scheduler/coordinator, after doing this umpteem b’zillion years now (it seems…LOL). Which is good, since we have established the fact that I am no poet (all you nazi-poet-knowers).:^]
Twas the night before Sunday and all through the clink
Not a Thorburn was stirring, not even for a drink.
Each tooth had been brushed and each face washed with care
Every mouth having uttered a quick thank-you prayer.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of late homework danced in their heads.
And Lydia in her kerchief, and Benjamin in his cap
Had just settled down to a long autumn nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
Jesse sprang from his bed to see what was the matter!
Away to the window he flew like a flash
Threw open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon as a spotlight on the puddles in the road
Gave the lustre of midday to the objects below.
When what to his wondering eyes should appear
It’s Mom in the mini van, adjusting the mirror!
Dad yells “JAMMY RIDE!!!!” and they all come quick
A hootin and hollerin…”Dad, what a trick!”
More rapid than eagles, Val and Jube hit the floor.
Dad’s revving the engine, Mom’s closing the doors.
“To McDonald’s! To McDonald’s!” Ben shouts with his might
And before you know it, they’re all out of sight.
Dollar Menu awaits and there’s ice cream to be had.
You heard it’s not healthy but ask Mom and Dad.
As we stumble in the door, we look quite a sight.
Good thing we live in Claremont, where that’s really alright
Sundaes for all, and napkins for the boys
“No, you can’t have a happy meal; and no Ninja toys.”
In a twinkling we’re huddled round tables with care
Eating and chatting with an excited air.
Relationships strengthened and memories made
Another investment in the parent-trade.
The days are long but the years are short
And soon they’ll be heading off to port.
Filling those bellies with ice cream and love
Just another great gift from the Savior above.
An hour has passed and tomorrow is church
So we wipe Ben’s fudge mustache and grab Mom’s orange purse
Five kids wide awake! Will they go back to sleep?
Oh well, life is short, and babies don’t keep.
But I heard Dad exclaim as we drove out of sight
“You never know when the next Jammy Ride will be…..
We are sad to report that Mom’s foot has died. Months ago, she was running 8 miles in the dark in the middle of the night with her friend, Mrs. Clogston. They were dodging cars and whatnot…reportedly there was an incident…well anyway…It’s been killing her for months and she’s not been able to run on it all summer. She’s gained 20 lbs as a result and doesn’t fit her clothes, which is also killing her. We decided that instead of her foot killing her, it was time for this to END. I know it seems kind of cruel but……. the funeral was today. We older four kids (didn’t want to traumatize Benjamin so early on.. LOL)… had the wake, and we video taped the service. The video will be up on the site Wednesday we hope.
Yes, you read it. We’ve been totally dissed. Up till now, Social Workers at our local DCYF (Division Of Children, Youth, And Families) have checked our blog while at work. Of course, I consider this just part of their duty in overseeing our family’s adoption of Benjamin, and monitoring our general sanity-status for the well-being of future foster children. I am sure that is how they were thinking of it too, being the very good DCYF workers that they are :^) 
