As I grudgingly sit down to write another lengthy update...

I think I've milked the newborn period for all it's worth this time. (No pun intended...) After all, Little Prince is 4.5 months old, sleeping through night (as in nearly 12 hours/night), and taking relatively regular naps. Sigh, I guess it's time to check back in to reality. But first, I want to thank everyone/thing that made this 5 month hiatus from responsibility possible. First, LP's birth (aka birth weight) at 9lbs along with subsequent bodily injuries in unmentionable places. Second, LP's broken femur two days before Christmas. Third, mastitis from the inevitable nursing woes. Fourth, H1N1--here's to pandemics keeping a person at home all the time!
And I'd like to thank the little people that have enabled me in this sedentary lifestyle: my husband for allowing me to take uninterrupted naps, as well as consistently be the one to take the baby monitor and sleep on the couch. My children who did everything from refill my water bottles to play Webkinz for hours each non-school day (and some school days) to lifting a screaming 3-year-old away from the flailing legs of a 5-year-old. My recliner for not groaning or squeaking as I settled my fatt butt into it for the 5 millionth time to nurse the equally fatt butted baby (who looks significantly cuter in a fatt butt). My wonderful ward members and friends who made excuse after excuse for me to not perform in my calling in church or as a parent, even looking the other way when I made it to church all of 1.5 times in 4 months. And last but not least, my parents for the king size feather quilt they sent for Christmas that has made my sleeping even more pleasant and hard to peel away from than ever before. Thank you everyone. And in return for your generosity and support, I'm going to refrain from posting any pictures of me, other than the incidental arm/hand/mole appearing in pics of my charming childrens.
Let's start with the youngest, shall we? As our most photographed celebrity, I think a picture tour would be the easiest to navigate. Little Prince has, like all of our babies, an undisguised love for music. That includes the croaking that comes from my throat and the high-pitched "singing" that comes from the 3-year-old twirling around the room. But his favorite by far is having Daddy sing to him with his guitar. \
Lucky boy had his first swing experience. Of course he loved it, even though he kept being pushed by some unnamed girls who seemed intent on killing him, or at the very least, giving him whiplash.
The great food adventures have begun! When no amount of milk kept this Pudge going, we decided it was high time to start him on some solids. Mikey likes it, eh?
At the risk of redundancy, I had to include this one because it shows off his little elf ears that turn out at the top so sweetly. Oh, and the bags that hang from his face that we call cheeks...
I have cuter ones than this, but Dh likes the way that his eye looks swollen like after a boxing match. Which after all is the shot we were attempt with his athletic pants and towel over the shoulders look.Yo, Adrian!! We also have hours of footage of him dancing to "Hug a Pug" (Webkinz music video--yes, they have music videos), "16" (High School Musical 3), and the ever popular "Dancing Queen" (this baby can disco).
One of LP's favorite activities, no lie, is being smooched to death. It helps that his enormously ticklish on his neck and ribs.
He'll even kiss in return--if you don't mind the inevitable slobber and hickies. Sorry, I lied: you get not one, but two fugly pics of me.
If I could caption this one, I would put simply: "HHHHHHHEEEELLLLLLPPPPP!!!!" Fortunately, he is usually a pretty good sport about all the attention. Unless his toys are all being taken away, or he's being dropped (and getting a broken leg), or even is being swung so much that he pukes all over. Oh, wait, he does that last one regardless of any swinging. This last pictures makes for a nice segue into the antics of Mini-Me who is convinced she is going to grow up and marry the Little Prince.
She does her best to keep his royal needs met: plenty of lovies, lots of stories read, and plenty of snuggling.
He does his best to just keep moving with his life and ignore the adoring fans.
Besides being a professional baby tamer, Mini-Me has successfully transitioned to panties and the Porcelain Throne. We recently sold her Princess Potty with nary a blink. I think she was tired of waiting for us to finish the job we started in Sept right before the baby came and decided to potty-train herself. If only all children did this... Of course, we have to give Shrimp some credit for helping her with these words of encouragement, "Believe you can do it, Ash! Believe you can poo! You just have to believe!" (Thank you, Barbie.)
Her continued silliness and sweet reserved little personality are in direct contrast and keep us smiling. She gave her first talk in Primary today (yes, she is in PRIMARY! AACKK!) and had no fear yelling out her talk (the mike was broken), telling everyone present how grateful she was for her body, painting, her baby brother, and Jesus. She's a 23-year-old trapped in a 3-year-old's body.
For Christmas, she got an American Girl doll, Felicity, just like her 3 big sisters. Talk about love--Felicity gets the best, right after Little Prince.


My little Shrimp is growing up. But she and Little Prince sure to do look alike, despite the gap in ages. Maybe that's part of why she is so good at cheering him up when he needs lubins... You can see that she recently got a haircut. Not my best attempt at domesticity and as soon as it grows out, we'll take her in for a real "shortcut".
She took it upon herself to teach the bathroom wall a lesson, but unfortunately, it won.
The weight of Mini-Me in the sled also won, but Shrimp got right back up and kept trying.
Shrimp has been learning to read at an amazing rate and has gained a newfound appreciation for books. We like to put the trickle-down effect (a fancy term for lazy parenting) to work for us and have her older sisters read to and with her. And Domba is just the woman for the job. These two continue to be best of friends; more so as they now spend time walking to and from school weekdays, commiserate over the mean playground supervisors and wave at each other across the lunch room.
Speaking of Domba, we recently picked up some hockey skates at the thrift store and decided to try them on the frozen river by our house. Sadly, she was too intimidated by the lack of a wall to hang onto like at the ice rink. Or maybe fortunately since we later decided the river wasn't cold enough and we probably shouldn't have been playing on it anyway. Anyway, this lucky girl gets a brief trip w/Daddy this coming month out to Phoenix to visit with Grandma & Aunt L while Daddy attends an academic conference. We'll sure miss them, but are glad she can have some big-girl time.
Maybe while she's there, she can keep honing her Frisbeen skillz. Like her older sister, she has proven remarkably adept at throwing, catching, and running. Not too surprising if you know her dad and how coordinated he is. Even snow won't stop these addicts from hitting the field.
One thing that she does not need more practice in is being weird. I could post the hundreds of weird expressions she has pulled in front of the camera over the years, but this is already far, far too long. Suffice it to say, the pic above is no anomaly. Let us not forget her lyric mix-ups. As a little one, she usually sang, "I know when I am baptized, my arms are washed away." Two days ago, she gave us a little Simon & Garfunkel, "I am a rock, I am an eeeeeyyyyeeeelid." That song will never be the same for me...


And my dear eldest daughter who is equal parts helpful and teenager. (You can decide what that exactly means.) I couldn't function without you. I'm pretty sure this 5th baby wouldn't be possible without your extra set of arms ready to take him when there is a parent needing emergency bathroom use, grab a burp rag, or a plastic bag for the poopy blowouts. No one gets the same kind of smiles out of Little Prince as this girl.
She is growing up and there are challenges that come with that, but she continues to impress us in the choices she makes and the issues she overcomes. We're currently getting anxious to learn her status in the magnet application process for the county middle schools. She's been balancing safety patrol (helping direct the kids safely to and from school), Junior Press Corp, Chorus, harp lessons, and her Webkinz addiction. Okay, she's actually not quite as addicted as Shrimp, but she is awfully skilled at Polar Bear Plummpit (as Shrimp calls it)/Plummet.


As mentioned before, I recently turned 29 again. Maybe one of these days I'll actually look that age, instead of 10 years younger. Let's see, I was told I looked 14 when I got married, so I must look about 27 now. Dare I hope that my voice will deepen enough that telemarketers will stop asking to speak to my mom? ("Nope, she's not hear right now. Thanks for calling!" Dial tone...)
One thing I'll NEVER grow out of is my keen sense of humor. This includes dressing male babies up in sunbonnets, making witty comments about Derek leaving his breast pads laying all around the garbage instead of in it, and threatening various tortures to people under the age of 11 who get up before legal wake-up time (that would be 7:48, people). This could include burning all nose hairs with a BBQ lighter, plucking eyelashes with tweezers, or forcing them to sleep in the shed with the black widows. I may not own a Cricut, but no one can claim I'm not creative.
Fortunately they continue to smile even as I take incriminating photos. And implied person kindly picks-up free gym-quality ellipticals from freecycle members (did I mention it was free?). And makes my bday the best. And continually sacrifices sleep and sanity to make sure I am awake and somewhat sane. And thanks me for doing the wash. And backs me up even when I make stupid mistakes. Or have a baby. Or yell at them for losing the odd thing (cellphones, expensive suits, small stuff like that). Or gets my back. You know, like that. Is is too early to look into official sainthood?