Lest we forget Thanksgiving... like everyone else.

I LOVE Thanksgiving.  Call me bitter, but I despise the fact that stores advertise Christmas before Halloween is even over.  I kind of see it as an accurate representation of our society - let's just skip over the part where we show gratitude for our blessings and hurry to the holiday where everyone spends all their money.  Don't get me wrong, Christmas is actually my very favorite holiday - in its purity - I just enjoy pausing for the month of November to come back to earth and recognize what really matters before getting caught up in the materialism that has kind of taken over the Christmas season.

We spent Thanksgiving at my parents' house.  Here are the kids before the feast:

You can easily identify my kids by the mismatched clothes and unkempt hair, in contrast to their cute cousins with seasonal attire and adorable hair bows.  So what else is new?

Tummy's full, we moved onto the kids' favorite post-Thanksgiving tradition at Grandma's house:  Gingerbread Houses (well, graham crackers actually, but let's not be nit-picky about the whole thing),

The next day we braved a new outlet mall.

Got a family picture at Cabela's:

And visited with the families of Tim's MTC buddies.  I cannot say enough good about these people.  And yet, I never manage to whip out my camera when we are together.  I spent a couple of hours with my dear friend from the MTC, Carmen and her adorable baby boy.  Gosh, I wish there were more hours in the day!  I love these mission buddies of mine.  They are such an influence on me and I wish we all lived closer.

Happy Thanksgiving!  Now Christmas can begin.

Our thankful turkey.

It's become a tradition.  During the first Family Home Evening of November, we hand out turkey feathers and write a few things for which we are thankful.  I love this holiday.

Six?

How on earth did she go from this skinny, little red-eyed thing:

1st birthday.

to this skinny, little red-eyed thing:

Rachel's birthday pretty much ushers in the busy holiday season, arriving the week before Thanksgiving so it's no surprise I'm not getting around to blogging about it until I realize there's only 2 weeks until Christmas and the guilt sets in.  I cannot overlook this third child of mine.  She is an angel.  Except when she's not (but seriously, that is so seldom).

For Rachel's birthday, she had the lucky pleasure of having Grandma and Grandpa Jackson and Aunt Jill in town.  This was great timing, since it was also her year to invite friends for a "party", and I clearly needed the help.  (In fact, everytime my mother comes to visit, she flits around, helping where needed and I wonder how I manage to live without her 98% of the time - mom, you are wonderful). 

We took Rachel and her friends to ride horses (thanks to our good friend, Groupon).  Put a few kids on horses for half an hour apiece and they're pleased as punch.

So let's talk about Rachel at age six.  She loves to help.  The other night I was juggling multiple balls (as usual).  There were piles of laundry waiting to be folded but I was instead attaching lights to the boughs of our Christmas tree(as per the kids' requests).  I realized that, with half an hour until dinnertime, I'd better switch gears and get something on the table so I dropped the lights amid groans from my children.  Rachel was so anxious to get those lights on that she transformed into my little kitchen helper, doing everything from cleaning prep dishes, to handing me ingredients, to stirring, to setting the table.  Sure, she may have seen it as a means to an end, but she volunteered and didn't quit until dinner was on the table.  She does this often.

Rachel loves school.  She actually enjoys homework, which is a good thing, since she is one of just a few kids in kindergarten who attends first grade for an hour or so a day for a bit of a challenge (reading, in her case).  She has weathered the transition to school more seamlessly than her sisters before her, keeping dramatic mood swings at bay.  Most of the time.

Rachel really wants to be good.  Sometimes I worry that her righteous desires are in an effort to please (which could actually hurt her down the road... maybe) but who's complaining?  She's six and has read through 2/3 of the Book of Mormon already.  Who does that?

Rachel is sweet and polite.  She makes a concerted effort to thank others for things they do for her.  This kind of gratitude in children is uncommon.

We love Miss Rachel - I'm excited to see what kind of big person she will become.

Moments of mercy.

Last summer, while driving on the freeway with my four girls and my niece who was visiting for the week, we swerved to avoid a huge plank of wood blocking our lane of traffic.  Having rained the night before, the road was just slippery enough to send the van spinning to the right across another lane of traffic and the shoulder, and then bounding off the road, down a ditch, and through a barbed wire fence until it rested just under a billboard in the middle of a small field.  After frantically turning around to be sure all five passengers were all right, we bowed our heads in prayer to thank the Lord for sparing our lives.  We even drove through the field and home after filing a quick accident report. Aside from a few paint scratches and a ripped off front license plate, we've nothing to show for our near brush with death.

Every time we drive by the spot of our accident, the girls and I are again reminded of how many things could have (and didn't) go wrong that day.  Given our speed (at least 65 mph, knowing me, probably higher), and my rudimentary understanding of physics, we should have rolled the car.  With only a degrees of difference we could have gone off a much steeper embankment, or run into a cement barrier, or involved other vehicles in our tailspin, or, or, or... Truly, we were blessed.  I don't pretend to understand why God spares some from death (or injury) and others not, only to thank Him and make the most of it when I am the one spared.

Another noteworthy experience I feel to record before it passes.  One night this summer our family went to the pool together.  Tim and I were careful to keep a close eye on Eve, our only non-swimmer, who was playing in the deep end using a ring-like flotation device.  You know, the kind that have written in bold on the outside "this is not a life-saving device, close-supervision required" or something like that.  Anyway, Eve decided she was done swimming, so we both joined her on the patio while she dried off and we got lost in conversation with one another.  In the meantime, Eve slipped away quietly and got back in the water.  I noticed soon afterward and suggested to Tim that, although she'd never slipped out of her floatie before, we ought to at least sit by the side of the pool in closer proximity to her, just in case. 

Sure enough, within a minute of our arrival, she slipped through the hole in the ring and started flailing around in the water helplessly.  I was by her side in seconds, bringing her to the surface.  Tim was still sitting on the side of the pool, dumbfounded.  And dry, too.  It's good Eve can rely on my response time and not her dad's I suppose.  :)

Anyway, my point is, I didn't have some strong impression that Eve was going to fall out of her floatie that night.  But I believe the Holy Ghost was guiding me in ways that would have been barely noticeable except in retrospect, as it does so often.  Without it's guidance, we may not have discovered Eve until she was at the bottom of the pool, possibly too late to save her.  I shudder at the possibility, and I would be remiss if I didn't record these moments of mercy.

War on women.

I have blog posts running through my head most hours of the day, none of which ever materialize because, by the time I have a moment to sit at my computer, all of my writing material has either dissipated into thin air, or I've come to the conclusion that I might offend someone by spewing forth the uncensored opinions that remain. Tonight, however, in recognizing that my blog has not seen activity for over two weeks, I figured, what the heck?  So here's what I really think.

I'm not going to open up the entire can of worms regarding the war on women thing.  It primarily refers to Republican policies that are seen as restricting women's rights, particularly "reproductive rights" (a loaded term, if you ask me).   But let's start with that.  Why must women demand that employers pay for contraception and sterilization benefits but not infertility treatments?  Isn't pregnancy a condition that is either A. fully preventable through abstinence (unthinkable!) or B. reasonably preventable through relatively inexpensive means(barrier methods, oral contraceptives) which individuals can certainly be responsible for obtaining themselves?  I'm just not understanding why an employer should be responsible for ensuring that a female employee doesn't get pregnant.  And if we're going to fight for the right to have contraception covered, why then, are we not making a big fuss about the fact that infertility treatments (way more expensive than pregnancy-prevention techniques, but necessary for any infertile couple hoping to have children of their own) are barely covered at all?  This is kind of a rhetorical question, one that speaks volumes about our society (or at least about the most vocal people in our society) and what we value.  Preventing children (without regard to personal responsibility) versus assisting those who (through no fault of their own) cannot have children.

For the record, I'm not saying that I believe infertility should be covered on employee benefit plans, only making a statement about what our country values.  Okay I'm done with that.

On to the better part of my rant.  I'm tired of people suggesting that women who solely stay at home and raise children are subservient, or "setting women back 100 years".  I resent the fact that a traditional role of husband working outside the home to provide a living and the wife staying home to raise the children is viewed by so many with disdain, that somehow I'm oppressed because I chose this lifestyle.  Where do people get off suggesting that one role is superior to another?  Why would I have to work outside the home to "prove" that my husband respects me?  Do I have to get paid doing what I love for it to be valuable?

Apparently, I do.  Ann Romney got a lot of flack throughout the campaign for staying home and raising her five boys.  Critics suggested that it wasn't a "real" job; others considered it a "luxury" that only the rich can afford.  I beg to differ.  How many of those critics have raised five sons?  Do they have any idea what kind of stamina that takes? 

I think the most difficult aspect of staying home and raising children is the lack of respect the world seems to give those who do so.  I personally don't let it get to me, but I have found myself defending my position more often than I would like, which indicates that the pervasive opinion is that I'm wasting my intellect, my college degree and my talent by staying home with my children.  So here I am, on paper, defending my decision.

Just because my man is the hunter-gatherer of the family does not make him superior.  Just ask him how submissive I am.  It's preposterous for people to suggest that the fact that he gets paid for his work and I don't means that we are not equally-yoked, or that I kowtow to his authority in the home.  Guess what?

Changing diapers is important.  Sacrificing a to-do list to sit down and assemble puzzles with a preschooler is infinitely rewarding.  Laundry matters (it is painful for me to admit that one).  Getting dinner on the table every night is a great sacrifice that reaps immeasurable benefits.  A clean and organized house is an unattainable but worthy goal.  Volunteering in the schools takes a lot of time, but is worth it.  Helping my nine-year old master math feels great.  Teaching my children piano is a painstaking process, but it's free!  Creating chore charts and schedules and reward systems works wonders.  Serving in my church blesses me and my family.  Eating bonbons while watching soap operas is... haha, just kidding!

I could list and list and list the most mundane tasks I complete every day.  They would seem, just that, mundane.  I don't get paid for any of them.  Heck, I don't even get credit for them most of the time.  But I gain tremendous satisfaction from them.  I love what I do.  So stop suggesting that women in so-called "traditional roles" are oppressed, or that because their work can't be measured in dollars (or even on checklists) that it isn't relevant.  I'm not out to please the world.  I want to please God.  And he says what I'm doing is " near to divinity". 

P.S.  I am not suggesting anything about women in non-traditional roles and their value, nor do I feel that women who earn lots of money or serve in high-profile positions in the world are irrelevant.  I think they're great.  Just making the case for those in my situation.

Oh yeah, and then there was that one holiday in October....

How could I forget about Halloween?  There are many things I'd like to forget about Halloween in general.  But, in an effort to stay positive and support my kids infatuation with costumes and candy, I'll let it rest and post a cute picture of the girls.

The weather was delightful and the three oldest rocked our neighborhood trick-or-treating until they dropped.  Actually, until people quit answering their doors.  Now for the sugar overload (and the inevitable illness that follows...)