West & his first haircut @ Priest Lake.

So, in the spirit of momentum, let's just keep things rolling around here. I have a folder on my external hard drive called "blog catch up" that has a few hundred photos in it. I have 1,000 photos from Priest Lake travels (that's edited down, already) and over 400 video clips that I hope to turn into something fabulous (or at least something). My computer is full, my external hard drive is full (!!) and I feel like I could dedicate a solid month of my life to catching up. 

Something is better than nothing, and something is also better than perfect, and since we're potty training this week (or at least making a feeble go at it) while also prepping to leave on another trip, my very best efforts at documenting this family of mine might not be my very best - but they will be valiant, and at least something. 

(We seriously have so. much. going on. The past month and the next month are just a little bit bananas.)

So, Quinn basically asks to go back to Priest Lake every 5 seconds. He wants to see Tara in Portland, his cousins at the cabin and Danner (who was oh so very kind and patient with him). Yesterday in the car, he screamed to go to Twin Island, and he wants ice cream on the boat. He has a new obsession with his Grandpa (his eyes lit up when we called him yesterday), loves Grandma even more than he did before, and has added "moose" to his regular vocabulary. He started calling me sweetie pie this morning (a term of endearment I picked up from my own mama), has a cute little tan line on his bum and basically refuses to wear shoes after a month of not needing to. We had a great trip - a really wonderful, magical trip. 

West is a perfect baby. He really is, which is amazing because I know what hard babies are like. I love Quinn with all of his fiery passion, but the counterpoint of West's mellow is so, so nice. He made traveling easy, slept perfectly (and I mean perfectly) for 28 days straight, and turned into a little boy while we were away. His little legs got chubbier (evidenced by barely fitting into the Bumbo by our last week), he grew out of a pair of footed pajamas (sad face) and he's sprouting two new teeth (that makes six!). I love him. 

Per tradition, West got a haircut our first week there. It's such a happy / sad event, and I felt the exact same way as I did when my mom gave Quinn his first haircut 2 years ago in the same spot - although this time, I was proud to be able to do it (reasonably well) myself.