Deanna Rose Children's Farm

On Tuesday we went to a children's farm over in Kansas with a friend and her 2 little girls. The boys loved all there was to do and see as we strolled around in perfect weather. I love that it's cooling off here and we can do more outside activities.We were able to feed the baby goats with bottles! It was so much fun.

It took Coen awhile to remember to tip the bottle up so the milk flowed down to the nipple.

The goats were strong little sucklers and we had to hold onto the bottles really tight.

We also fed the older models some goat feed out of our palms.

Coen was much braver than I expected him to be.

Marshall is fearless of animals.

Marshall's favorite part was the horse he got to ride. He told Dad as soon as he got home from work and even called Grammy to tell her about it.

The person selling tickets was a missionary and when they told me you had to be 3 to ride, I just couldn't bring myself to lie to a missionary! I told him Coen was only 3 weeks away and they still said no!

I didn't think Coen would want to ride such a big animal, but as we were in line waiting for Marshall's turn he kept asking if he could. So I sent Marshall over to buy another ticket. Shh! Don't tell!!

He loved it!!!

We also went for a leisurely horse drawn hay ride. I imagined being a pioneer and how slow their trek west must have been and just how impatient I am. It was fun though and the boys loved it when the driver had the horses do a sprint to the end!

Coen-isms

-------------------------I'll keep this post updated as he says these things-------------------------

I was in bed one morning and John was making breakfast. Coen comes running in, crying. "Mom, me no like dinner." (He calls all meals 'dinner') Me: "What's Daddy making?" Coen: "Poop!" then laughs at himself.

Speaking of potty language. This boy has a mouth on him! I used to ask him if he had "poopy pants" when I could smell a dirty diaper. Well then he started calling Marshall "poopy pants" as an insult. The more I tell him not to, the more he does it, so I'm hoping he'll outgrow it??

Coen likes to play Angry Birds on my phone and shoot them straight up in the air, laugh, and say "daaaane it!"

Coen woke up last night and I was out at the computer when he comes out looking for his "hank" (blanket). I gather him up in my arms and say "Come here pumpkin, let's go back to bed." and he says, "Me not a pumpkin, mommy!"

I made up a song "Who wants dome dinner, some dinner, some dinner tonight?" and Coen replied, "It's not Rockband, Momma!"

One night at dinner Coen dropped a spoonful of food. Sadly he said, "Mom, me spill my food." I told him the dog would eat it later, but that wasn't good enough for him. Dash was sleeping under the table so Coen said, "Puppy! Puppy! Wake up! Come eat my food!" Then happily, he looked up at me and said, "Mom! Dashy eat my food," and giggled.

Sometimes I talk to him about the baby in my tummy. He likes to point to different body parts and say, "No, baby in your EYE!" and then laughs at his joke hysterically.

Before bed while I'm laying with him he'll randomly say, "Knock, knock." "Who's there?" I reply. "(Insert something goofy and unintelligible here)" and laughs.

I'll ask him what his name is and his reply is ALWAYS, "Baby Boy."

The other day John threatened to spank him. Sadly, he looked up at me and said, "Me little, Momma."

Where were you?

Every year on 9/11 I think about writing this post. And every year I sit down to put my experience of that day, of that time in my life, on "paper". And I can't. I get stuck. It gets too emotional for me. But with the 10th Anniversary I decided it was time. I want to tell my story of that day for my posterity.

I had just turned 18 nine days before and had just started my senior year of high school. The morning of September 11th was just like any other. Walking into the school from the parking lot, I saw my friend, Ashley, and we decided to sluff Humanities and go to Einsteins up by the U to scope out the cute college guys. On our way to her car was her other friend, Linlee, and she came along too. We had a normal breakfast, listened to a mix CD Linlee had made Ashley for her b-day (she had turned 18 the day before), and made it back to school in time for the next period.

Ten of our closest friends shared a locker (Locker 56 to be exact) in the main hall and as we walked in we saw our group, one of many, huddled together, holding each other, and sobbing. Ashley and I were sure someone at the school had died. My BFF, Rachael, explained what had happened that morning in New York. Apparently most teachers had left the news on during first period and let the students watch it.

Unfortunately, because of sluffing, that's the extent of what I heard until later in the day. My third period teacher (we were on even/odd block days) wouldn't let us watch the news. Towards the end of third period the alarms at the school went off and everyone was ushered outside to the field. Someone had called into the school with a bomb threat - today of all days! We were all outside, everyone on their cell phones talking to their parents.

Since I had work release, I had to leave to go start my shift at Jamba Juice but they wouldn't let me go without a parents' release. I think I called my mom and had her tell the secretary or someone that I could leave. It turned out that the bomb threat was a prank, and we weren't the only school in Salt Lake to have that happen that day.

After work I went home where I finally got to watch the news. I remember sitting on the coffee table with my mom, in silence, just watching as they played the same footage over and over and over. Both of us were just in tears, especially when they showed close ups of what was coming out of the windows - bodies.

Fast forward a little bit, and my step-mom quit her job teaching first grade because "life was too short to keep doing something you don't love" - or something like that that 9/11 made her realize. I used to put a lot of stock into the philosophical things my dad and step-mom said, so I took that to heart.

I knew what I wanted in life: I wanted to get married, and have a family and I *thought* I knew how and with who. I had just said good-bye to a missionary who entered the MTC the day after 9/11. I was unofficially waiting for him, swearing off all boys for 2 years (a hard task for me), and was going to be ready and worthy to marry him upon his return.

So during UEA break a few weeks later I was staying at a friends house for a few days with her while her parents were out of town. On my second night there I was working the closing shift at Jamba and we had just locked up when my friends called. Drunk. They told me they were saving me some and to hurry home. I sat there completely dumb-founded. We always had so much fun together WITHOUT getting drunk, why would they start this now? My mind was made up when I was a little girl so when I got off work I went over to pick up my stuff at her house and then headed home. My friends were mad, said I was judging them, and just didn't understand. We stopped hanging out after that and a few more other incidents.

For the next few months I sat at home with my mom on Friday and Saturday nights. We would go grocery shopping together on Friday nights and rent Doris Day and Aubrey Hepburn movies on Saturday nights. I eventually found other friends to hang out with.

Had it not been for that missionary and my determination to be worthy and not have a clear picture of what I wanted in mind, I don't know if I would have been so strong and 9/11 changed all that for me. It made me realize that life was precious, that in a moment it can all be taken away, and the attitude "I'm young, nothing can happen to me" that I had had up until that point, wasn't true. Life was too short to do something I didn't really want to do.

I still had plenty of fun my senior year, thanks to some wonderful friends. But I do believe that September 11th changed me, or at least made me grow up a little.