Family Reunions Galore

'Tis the season for reunions, I guess. We've spent three of the last four days attending family reunions. One for my mom's side of the family and one for my mother-in-law's side. And my kiddies loved it.

On Friday and Saturday, we had a 24-hour Morrison fest. The original plans of hiking and lounging by the pool were stifled by the weekend monsoon, but we had just as much fun with a bowling tournament, movies, basketball, and lots and lots of eating. Either way, my kids had a blast. They were absolutely smothered by my many young and adorable female cousins (11 in all?). Fisher loved being showered with attention and kisses from so many pretty girls. But I've learned that it is possible to have too much fun. By Saturday night, as we were trying to give all the kids baths, Loryn was sobbing incoherently, "Can't I just go to bed?"

On Monday, we gathered with my mother-in-law's family with so many little ones running rampant, they were impossible to count. At the end of it all, I feel blessed to be surrounded by so much family and so much love. My kids are extrememly lucky to see how many people love and support them, more than they can even remember or imagine.

Spring Break?

This is a picture of our backyard during Spring Break. Not exactly inviting. In high school, Spring Break usually meant piling into Daddy Pope's Suburban and setting off for adventure in Southern Utah. One year was particularly memorable as it was snowing, but the trek continued on, improvising as we went. We found a random spot to camp, cleared the snow to make space for a tent and huddled inside to make alternative plans.

And so I learned a valuable lesson: if Spring Break is snowy, just improvise! And that is what we had to do this year, but we had great fun. An indoor picnic and games inside the church gym, and a trip to the movies satisfied our kids' appetite for a Spring Break adventure.

Easter Sunday

Despite our best efforts to stress the "true" meaning of Easter, Loryn still protested when she found out that we would, in fact, be attending church on Easter. "We're doomed!" she shouted in dismay. But we assuaged her fears by assuring her that the Easter Bunny would still have time to visit. And he did indeed.
After church, I hosted Easter Dinner at our house for my parents, brothers, and dear Papa Ace. It was a great dinner, but it wouldn't have been Easter at the Ross house without watching the Masters right after dinner got over.

Anyway, I'll just shower you with pictures because I'm at a total loss for anything witty or interesting to say. Easter is Easter, you know. Eggs, bunnies, candy, church, and all that jazz.

Anniversary of Sorts

Over the years, I have told my single family members and friends and several of my Young Women the old adage, "there are other fish in the sea." Or, there are a thousand different people you could marry and be happy. Or, there's no such thing as "The One." And I genuinely mean it. Except, of course, as it applies to me. I am convinced that if I hadn't married Dan, I would still be single and would remain so for life.

And I don't mean that in a pity party sort of way. It's just a fact. I hated dating, always. It made me sick to my stomach, in fact. It wasn't fun to me then, and I can't imagine what it would be like now. As corny as it may sound, I find it a total and complete miracle that I found Dan. And an even greater miracle that he married me.

April 11 is somewhat of an anniversary for my husband and me. It was the day we "met" twelve years ago. Actually, it was the day we both remember really talking to each other, despite having co-existed in the same group of friends for months. We were both 18 at the time.


So, here's to the man that I fell in love with at 18 and love exponentially more now. In fact, I can say that he's really been my only boyfriend, kiss, or love (gasp!). I can say this because my only other "boyfriend" and I mutually decided that our quasi-relationship can hardly count, due to its completely pathetic nature.

I would have included a more recent picture, but Dan and I are jointly going through a not-so-cute phase. But that's the beauty of our relationship right there, we're in it together. As we have always been and always will be.

Hippety Hoppety . . . and Overdue Tributes

Two days ago, the Easter Bunny made a "surprise" visit to our house. Luckily, we were conveniently holding a birthday party for my mother-in-law, Jody, at the same time! All the grandkids (and my brother, Jeffrey) loved the bunny's impromptu appearance. Soooo, many thanks to the bunny--one of the most thoughtful and fun bunnies I know.


And Happy Birthday to my mother-in-law. Not only did she do an incomparable job in raising a perfect son, but she is a wonderful lady. She cooks, she sews, and she's good to everybody she knows. Her heart and home are always open, and her conviction to the gospel is something she's never been ashamed to share. She is an enthusiastic and fun grandma to fourteen 1/2 grandkids, and she's wicked good on the golf course.

And, I have to give heartfelt thanks to "Auntie" Tiffany. I don't have any sisters and my brothers aren't married, so my sweet cousin Tiffany has assumed the role of "auntie." It's probably because she's the one feeding a newborn chocolate frosting. She also has been known to sneak them cookie dough and ice cream at alarmingly young ages. But, what are "aunties" for? So thanks to Tiffany and Megan for being the ones to get my kids hyped up on sugar before bedtime, teach them the art of wet-willies, and spoil them with gifts and fun-filled spontaneous visits. Because if you didn't do it, who would?

Adult Onset ADD

During one of my frequent and over-analytical introspections, I came to the conclusion that I have adult-onset ADD (if there is such a thing). In days gone by, I was responsible, focused, dependable. I did well in school. I got things done.

In my recent ephiphany, I realized that the opposite may be true now. I have hamster-wheel brain. In other words, my mind is constantly racing (often preventing sleep), but never really going anywhere. So, as my hamster brain churns throughout the day, I find myself bustling from one chore or grand scheme to the next, without ever really finishing anything. In fact, if you were to take a tour of my house right now, you would find remnants of at least a dozen half-finished ventures. A pile of thank you notes that I took the time to write but never send. A room I began re-arranging and organizing, but never finished. A load of wash that is half-folded (the battle wages on!) A pile of recipes I have collected with the intent of making a new cookbook, but have not begun.

I have an entire closet devoted to such things. Half-finished family trees and genalogy forms, half-finished photo albums, half-finished books I'm writing for my kids. My mother's computer holds an electronic scrapbook I started for Loryn . . . two years ago! In other words, I would dare say that I'm really good with the idea end of things, but the execution often fails.

My grandma once told me that the road to hell was paved with good intentions. Well, I guess I'll start packing my bathing suit and sunglasses, but knowing me, I probably won't finish.

Laundry Day

My cousin Jenny recently posted a picture of her husband's color-coordinated closet and a description of his tidy sock drawer. Thanks goodness for him he's not married to me. It's a miracle my own husband stays married to me, given the fact that his mother was a fold-as-go kind of gal. And also one of those moms who lead her kids to believe that laundry magically appeared neatly folded in their drawers when they got home from school.

I am very good at doing laundry. I am very bad at folding laundry. So, I wait until the end of the week until nine loads have piled up in our relatively small laundry room, and no one has anything to wear. Then, I enlist the help of my entire family and we catch up on Tivo'd episodes of American Idol while we sort and fold. I have to make it seem like a party. As you can see, I actually succeed in my manipulation in the inital phases. They dive into the mountains of clothes and like throwing them at each other across the room into the sorting piles.

I justify my actions by telling myself that I'm teaching them work ethic (their work ethic and obviously not my own.) Because if I had any work ethic, it would have magically appeared in their drawers days ago.

Goodbye Spontanaiety

No one who knows me well would ever use the word "spontaneous" to describe me. In fact, it might be the very last word they might choose to use. That being said, it would be nice to be capable of spontanaiety. I have come to realize that with four kids in tow it's impossible (for me, at least).

I guess it dawned on me as I readied myself for a quick trip to the cousin's yesterday for a "spontaneous" playdate. My sister-in-law lives approximately six blocks from my house, and I intended to stay for only one hour. It should have been the simplest thing ever. And yet, I am met with, "I can't find my shoes," "Where did you put my socks?" "Can I wear sandals even though its snowing?", "Do I have to wear a coat?", "I have to go potty first," "Wait, I have to take back their Pollys."

Then there's my inner dialogue, "I should take me cell phone. Where is it? Where are my car keys? Why can't they ever find their shoes? What is happening to all our socks? Probably the same thing that's happened to my cell phone. Lost! In the abyss that is my house! Then, I have to pack two different sizes of diapers, my nursing drape, buckle them all into varying sizes of carseats, etc. Ten minutes later, we're ready to leave. Sans socks.

Then, there's church. I pack for church like I'm going away for the weekend. Three bags! And I pack for the weekend like I'm leaving the country. I briefly contemplated a weekend jaunt to Idaho, spurred by my cousin's persistent promises of help. Even with such willingness to help, I was instantly deterred by the thought of the two playpens, toys, food, diapers, clothes, etc. I'd have to pack. Not to mention snacks and toys for the 3 hour car ride and the logistics of a newborn that would likely have to eat during the journey.

I'm a lightweight I know. Sarah just drove from Texas with her three boys, one of which reportedly played with the same toy the whole way here. And Natalie made a trip from London with two young kids without a spouse to help her. They also gave birth without epidurals, go figure.

Naddy Bee & Her Kitchen

You may have noticed the "Hobble Creek Kitchen" button on the right of your screen. There's a story, nay a person, behind that. The one and only Natalie Pope, of course (she's the one in the apron). I met her when she wore red glasses and keds in first grade. She was also the first and only sixth grader I know to wear brooches to school. She wore spandex unitards to high school for laughs, mocked the "popular" girls till they cried, and accepted her homecoming queen title as a lifesize cardboard cutout. She also went through a phase of burning insense, wearing tie-dye, and religiously listening to Grateful Dead bootlegs. I roomed with her in college, where she let me live basically free. One of a kind girl, that Natalie. And a good friend, too. Today, she showed up at my door with lunch.

To many people's surprise, she is now a mother of three and an aspiring domestic goddess. Natalie loves to cook and is really quite good, so you should check out her blog by clicking on the Hobble Creek Kitchen button. If nothing else, you'll get a kick out of her sassy humor and the no nonsense attitude I've always loved about her. Because even though she cooks gourmet meals every night, she's never claimed to be perfect. In fact, as we sat in my messy house today eating take-out, I could rest assured she wasn't judging me because she is the one person I know that is messier than I am. And, even better, she doesn't care!

So, eat your heart out Rachel Ray, you ain't got nothin' on my Naddy Bee!

No Soliciting

If I could figure out how to post "25 Random Things" in Facebook, I would top the list off with my biggest pet peeve: solicitors. Buying a "No Soliciting" sign has been on my To-Do-List for years, but because I only like making lists and not doing them, it has yet to be done.


There is no sense of dread greater to my soul than opening the door to find a salesperson. Ironic, then, that I was employed by a sales training company before becoming a mom. Even then, I maitained to my boss that I detest door-to-door sales. I hate them for two reasons.


First, they always come at the most inopportune time. I'm running late to a soccer game, in the middle of nursing, just hopping out of the shower, etc. But because I've convinced myself that a family member or friend might be at the door, I drop everything to run to the door only to find . . . aaaaah, a stranger. A stranger wanting to sell me something no less!


Reason Number 2. I hate them for my own sympathy. Because I belong to a church that believes in selling religion door to door, I have an innate sympathy for anyone who goes door to door. My husband, a former missionary, is even worse. We are spineless jellyfish and our sympathy has compelled us to spend hundreds of dollars on miracle cleaners, magazine subscriptions, music CDs, discount cards, you name it.


Just this week, I have had 4, count them 4, people selling lawn aeration services alone! Not to mention the Schwann's man, two separate soccer players, a BYU student, a magazine guy from the ghetto, and a neighbor girl selling girl scout cookies. I said no to the Schwanns guy and successfully denied the aeration people. I felt bad about turning away the Timpview soccer players, but managed to do it anyway. And I convinced the ghetto magazine guy that the four magazine subscriptions I bought from him last year were already too many. (Which you should completely respect because it is very hard to shake those guys!) But the girl scouts are a conspiracy against humanity--you would have to be without a soul to turn away puppy-dog eyed little girls selling cookies, good cookies. So, I succumbed to the thin mints and do-si-dos.

But after this week, I am recommitted to buying a no soliciting sign. We'll see I ever make it past the "To Do List" phase this time.