To potty train or not to potty train...

Yeah, it is probably over due time that I potty train Quincy. I mean, she is perfectly capable, but admittedly, I have been unable to bring myself to start. I was trying to wait and take my cues from her, but...she's really indifferent to the whole thing. So, I decided to go ahead and take the plunge whether I am ready for this or not. My wonderful mother said I should be philosophical about it. I said, "Oh! A new blog topic." I don't think she was amused, so I will do my best to be philosophical and possibly even funny about it. I need to find the humor in it because a half day and five pairs of panties later...I need to find some humor.

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Can we pretend that the one time she went potty in the potty she was excited? She wasn't. She looked at me like, "WHAT WAS THAT?!", shuttered and asked if she could play yet.

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Her first accident this morning, she looked at the puddle, then at me, said "Gross" and ran off to play. Notice a theme yet?

Oh, Q. I will apologize now for giving you a reason to see a therapist (my mom BLOGGED about my potty training!), but I assure you, kiddo, the hilarity that is about to ensue will be because we are about to see how truly terrible I am at this. I will probably apologize several times in your life for you having to be the kid I experiment everything on. Thank goodness you are such a good kid with an amazing ability to bounce back from my never-ending mistakes. So, kid. It's you and me and the potty. We got this.

Jennifer and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

With thanks and compliments to Judith Viorst who wrote Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

I went to bed way too late with too much on my mind and when the two-year-old climbed into my bed at 5am she smashed my face with her knee and then I couldn't fall back asleep and the one-year-old woke up screaming which isn't normal and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

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At breakfast no one wanted to eat and cereal ended up all over the floor and banana ended up all over the baby's head and my breakfast shake half melted before I could even take a drink and every time I stepped away from the table to get the two-year-old something new both girls yelled or screamed until I came back.

I think I'll move to Jamaica.

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At the doctor, the wait was long, the reality was frightening and the delivery rushed. I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

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I could tell because upon my return home the babies were fussy. Nap time came late. The girls didn't sleep as long as usual, and they both woke up on the wrong side of the bed or crib. My husband claimed he "forgot" to call me on his way to an important meeting and had me worried that something was seriously wrong.

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Picked up the house to have the girls drag out every toy again. This is fine, but then I walked into the back playroom to discover melted ORANGE  Popsicle on the carpet, and the tile and the dining chairs. Dried orange Popsicle from morning snack.

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Then everyone wanted to know how my doctor's appointment went, and I didn't want to talk about it but I did and everyone seemed to have an opinion about what I should or should not do and while I am sure that comes from a place of love and concern, it really just feels like no one trusts me to make my own decisions for my own life and I really hate being told what to do and how to do it and why to do it. This happens a lot lately from people who know and love me and people who have no idea who I am. Someday my life will be my own again. Until then,

I think I'll move to Bermuda.

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There was spaghetti for dinner and I love spaghetti, but I couldn't eat it. There was Denver Broncos football on TV, and I love the Broncos, but we had to watch Curious George instead.

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Bedtime came. We completed our routine. Bedtime went. Two little girls cried and cried and cried. I snuggled and played and pleaded and lay on their bedroom floor. I begged and threatened and cried too. Around 1am, they both finally screamed themselves out. Then I cried myself into a stupor and drifted off to sleep.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Some days are like that.

Even in Colorado.

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Powderhorn 2013

As you may or may not have gathered, there is a tradition amongst the Mahan family to travel to the Powderhorn Ski Resort over Labor Day Weekend to relax together. Last year, we didn't make it for the first time in a really long time. This was due to multiple babies being due close to the usual weekend. We had a nice June family function in Denver last year, but it just wasn't the same.

This year, at least a small some of us were able to make the trip for our usual weekend. It was a small group. Really small, but it was so good to get away. As usual, turning into the long drive leading up to the condos, my jaw loosened, my grip became less white knuckle, and I am pretty sure my heartbeat evened and slowed a bit. I love this place. More importantly, I love the people with whom I share this place. Just some pictures from the trip!

Quincy practicing for her future career as a librarian. 

We went early to avoid traffic, so we got to go and visit Gramma at her library. For those who do not know, my mom runs the library at one of the elementary schools in Montrose, and she ROCKS at her job.

A little light reading! 

Heaven on Earth!

Celebrated Kelli's 22nd Birthday--which isn't until 9/11

Dad and I might have put all 22 candles on one cupcake. It was a fire hazard. Hilarious, but a hazard.

My awesome parents

The Newlyweds

Sisters...book ends of the Mahan clan.

Watching the light change from the top of the Grand Mesa

Me and my babies

Momma and Q

Momma and T

Dad and me

Mom and me

Blessed to live in this place!

Deep Thoughts with Momma J

I have a major case of the IF ONLY's today. You know:

If only I had joined choir in high school. 
If only I had been brave enough to audition for the musical. 
If only I had finished my novel before the babies got here. 
If only I had majored in gorillas...

You know!

My hubby plays the WHAT IF game a lot, and it drives me insane. Much for the same reason I am driving myself insane today. We aren't meant to live in that place. It isn't healthy. To be hung up on what you did or didn't do OR on what may or may not happen...no good comes from this. 

President Thomas S. Monson, the prophet and leader of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, gave a talk titled, "In Search of Treasure", and in it he said, "Sometimes we let our thoughts of tomorrow take up too much of today. Daydreaming of the past and longing for the future may provide comfort but will not take the place of living in the present. This is the day of our opportunity, and we must grasp it." 

So, I suppose I need to let go of my IF ONLY's. I can't change what has happened, but I sure as heck do have power over how I handle things today. 

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The Library

The girls and I went to the library today to turn in their Summer Reading Program forms all completed, to play, and to get me a book. While we were sitting at the back of the Children's Library playing with the games they have there for little ones (please note that right now, the library is a play place for Q--the magic of being able to check out books is currently lost on her), there was a family of girls each with a pile of books to check out and take home. Their ages varied from pre-teen to older toddler, but I was suddenly swept back to those summer days that my mom would take us to the Broomfield library and we would carefully walk down those steep stairs into the children's section in the basement and pick books to read. Always a pile of books to read. I remember not being able to wait until we got home to start my new books, so I would choose what I wanted and find a place to start reading before we even left. I used to get in trouble with Ramona Quimby, solve mysteries with Nancy Drew, get lost in the drama of Baby-Sitters Club and Sweet Valley High and tempering those with books about Helen Keller and various other biographies. I watched the girl today run to the couch with her pile of books and greedily look to see how many pages she would be reading in the next few weeks. If she is anything like me, she will wear that number like a badge of honor--and it won't take her two weeks.
I feel nostalgic for those days when I could spend my whole summer reading. And I did. Before bed, When I woke up. Before church. Outside under the trees. I got lost in the words--the stories.
I watch my girls play with their books, and I am so glad they love to read. I love to listen to Q tell me what is on each page or read Go Dogs Go because she has it mostly memorized. I love that T will pick up a book and open it and talk to it while pointing to the pictures. I love that they will bring me books over and over and over again and NEVER tire of them. My girls are readers. Like their mother before them. I can't wait for the day when they rush through the library grabbing a new book and start reading it before we even make it out the door. I can't wait to watch them get lost in the world of characters destined to be their best friends and worst enemies.
It's a magical place, and books...books are magical things.

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Stef's Challenge Topic: Earliest Childhood Memory

Okay, so Lisa, Dad, and Mom have all written this challenge from Stef. I have been thinking and thinking and thinking about what to write. Last June when we completed the 31 Day Blog Challenge, we wrote on this topic, and I shared the story about Adam's fall. I like to believe that I remember everything, but let's be honest. I'm getting old. I remember nothing. So, as Lisa and Dad have shared glimpses of memories, I will do the same. 

Living in Utah for a brief time when I was around four, I remember there were kids down the lane or road that I played with--all older. Playing house with them one day, I got in trouble with my play mom about something I didn't actually do--only in the game--but she actually spanked me. I remember running home crying, and I think (I THINK) the culprit came and apologized. 

Earlier, I remember holding Adam once when he was a new baby. There are pictures documenting this event, as we were wearing goofy, big, yellow sunglasses. I just remember looking at him and thinking that he was funny looking with no face (the sunglasses were on him).

One time, we were at my grandparent's house, and I think my uncle was breaking up with his current girlfriend. All I know is that I was told I had to stay downstairs and I wasn't allowed to bug Uncle Dan while he was outside talking. I do remember "sneaking" upstairs and looking out the window to see what was going on. I think he was hugging her good-bye, but that image is blurry. 

When Aunt Cathy and Uncle Darrell got married, my grandparents house was PACKED. Adam and I slept in a tent in Grandma and Grandpa's front yard. That was awesome. 

You know, the interesting thing about looking back at the little things I remember is that it makes me wonder what Quincy and Tessa will remember. They are so little, but I sure hope that we are creating some wonderful early childhood memories for them.