How To Awaken the Inner Child

Go sledding!


I took Jonah sledding yesterday for the first time.


It was also the first time I'd been for about 7 years. It was cold, icy, and snowing but it was so much fun!

Jonah had 3 layers of clothes on and looked like a marshmallow. His face was squished and he had rosy cheeks and nose. I'm pretty sure he enjoyed himself until it was just too cold and we went home.

I even took him down a pretty steep hill in the saucer and he just giggled at the end!

Nun's Puffs

Do you know what Nun's Puffs are? Take a look:

And they go amazingly well with this:

This is my favorite hot chocolate. I have a mug almost every day...and sometimes twice a day. You can only get it at Harmon's in Utah and it's pretty hard to find in other states as well.

Jon and I ate these for breakfast this morning. They're really good when you put some honey on them.

Here's the recipe:

1/2 cup butter
1 cup milk
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
4 eggs
1 tablespoon sugar
Cinnamon-sugar or honey, optional

Generously grease twelve 2-1/2-inch muffin cups (use the giant muffin cups with 6 to a pan), covering the edge and around the top of each cup. In a 2-quart saucepan melt the butter. Add milk; bring to boiling. Add flour all at once; stir vigorously. Cook and stir until mixture forms a ball that does not separate. Remove from the heat; cool slightly, about 5 minutes.

Add the eggs, 1 at a time, beating with a wooden sppon after each addition for 1 minute or until smooth. Fill the prepared muffin cups half full of dough; sprinkle with the sugar.

Bake puffs in a 375 degree oven about 30 minutes or until golden brown and puffy. Remove from pan and serve immediately.

Good Old-Fashioned Green Family Christmas

Actually, this year wasn't exactly "old-fashioned" but it was really wonderful to be with everyone. This year we went down to Puerto Penasco (where's the ~ over the "n"?) with the whole crew and had a blast.

Of course we all gained about 10 lbs eating the "Treat of the Season" and all the other novelty snacks which one usually doesn't keep in the house on a regular basis...hence, the novelty. We mostly just ate it because it was there. Gosh that sounds an awful lot like...well...does that mean we have an unhealthy relationship with food? One could argue that it was necessary to build up the fat stores as it was bitterly cold most of the time. Yes, we were in Mexico but don't let that fool you. That blasted wind cuts right through the clothes. Next time I'll have to bring my winter coat, a hat, gloves, and galoshes (for the beach).

Jonah was 9 months old this last Christmas and had no concept of the tradition of opening presents. Boy was I excited to jump in and help!

Regardless of the weather, we got some great pictures and ate some good food and had a great time on the beach.

Let's Blog

Gosh. Who'd have thought we, the Bush's, would become so conforming? Just kidding. This is a fantastical way to keep up with everyone. I hope you all enjoy this. I'll be posting some things from the past so as to update you thus far. Mmm k.

Milestones of Motherhood

I've been a mom for just over three months now...which makes me a pro right? No, probably not. But at least I can say that I know more about Jonah than anyone else in the world. Since I am a "stay-at-home mom" I spend nearly 24 hours with my son. I believe this is the single longest period of time I have spent of my life with one person; only to exclude the time I probably spent with my own mother as when I was a baby. I have come to a point in my relationship with Jonah where I sometimes miss him when he's napping and I have to keep myself (its not really that hard to keep myself) from waking him up just to try to make him smile or laugh or just to laugh when he cries.
I'm really not insensitive and I'm sure it's a pretty common thing among new parents that when you finally get past the point where you break a sweat and begin to panic every time your newborn cries, that you eventually learn to laugh at the funny faces and squeals that come from them and be more patient with the inevitable crying spells. That's a great point to get to. In fact, here are a few other points in my experience of motherhood that I'd like to consider milestones:

IPPD or Inevitable Post-Pardom Depression is quite possibly the most horrible feeling on earth. I call it "Inevitable" because I truly believe that every mother has or will experience this to one degree or another. I'd like to believe that this frightful condition is only worsened when your baby decides it wants to be born right-smack-dab in the middle of the freaking night. In my case, my water broke at 12:30am and Jonah was born 4 hours later. It could have been 3 hours but since he was coming so fast and the doctor wasn't there yet, I got to sit with my numb legs in stirrups for an hour while his head threatened to come out (sorry for the graphics, gentlemen). After he was born I was wheeled to my recovery room and Jonah was taken to the nursery to be cleaned up and to have his breathing monitored for a while. My husband went with him to make sure everything was ok, so I sat alone in a quiet room while fighting off nausea and the oh-so-empty feeling in my midsection. Those aren't exactly great sleeping conditions. The following day, of course, was peppered with visitors, nurses checking my blood, etc. and the time I spent looking at this new baby with utter amazement that it was mine. The next night was horrible. If you've never tried sleeping with a newborn in your room, I'll tell you right now that its nearly impossible. They make all sorts of grunts, squeaks, sighs, and toots and after ever single one I sat straight up to make sure he was still breathing. When I finally got past the guilt and let the nurses take him to the nursery so I could get some sleep, the longest stretch of sleep was but two hours because they'd bring him back in to be nursed or to take more of my blood. The day I got home from the hospital my mom decided that Jonah was looking rather yellow. I called the doctor in a hidden panic and they told me to bring him right in to have his biliruben levels checked. The minute I hung up the phone I started bawling. My mom and sister just sat there staring at me. This was the ultimate low point. My husband caught a horrible cold the day Jonah was born which left him in a drugged, slightly comatose state for the first week. So as you can imagine, he wasn't much help (no offense, Honey). For you pregnant ladies out there, don't worry. This stage passed after about a week.
The Real Smiles for Jonah came at about 4 weeks. This point is wonderful because previous to this point he only smiled when he was gassy, which was cute but wasn't in any way an acknowledgement of our futile attempts to rouse him. The weeks leading to this moment were also difficult because you feel as though you're giving every ounce of energy, time, and love to something that has no idea that you're there except for when its hungry.
The Six Week Sleep Miracle occurred one random night around six weeks after Jonah was born. Up to this point I believe that the longest period of sleep I got was about 3 hours long. One night, my husband and I went to bed expecting to be woken up about 1 and 1/2 hours later for a feeding. Of course we didn't budge until we heard Jonah cry which was a magical 7 hours later. We actually managed to get 5 hours of sleep that night which felt amazing. That one night gave us a hope that fueled us through the next few days. Jonah started sleeping 7 hours and 8 hours at a time and eventually it got up to 9 or 10. At this point I began to enjoy motherhood even more because I realized that there would be a day, maybe not in the near future, that I wouldn't be over tired and need a nap.
Jonah is now almost 15 weeks old (a little over 3 months) and it is most rewarding to see him grow and change. He opens and closes his hands and even tries to reach for things. He smiles, talks, and giggles when he's happy and has quite the personality when he's mad. He holds his head up (although still a little wobbly) and looks around and is ever so observant. I love being a mother and I can't wait to do it all over again (I mean I can but I can't...you know what I mean!)!

What happened to my pizza?

So I'm huge. I'm 8 months pregnant with my first baby (boy) and I eat all the time. I work in a spa/salon and I just agreed to share a delicious three cheese pizza with one of the stylists (she's pregnant too). There's a little cafe across the hall called the Life Cafe and they just got a new menu. So we split the pizza in half and after the first few bites when my gums started getting a little raw I realized they overcooked the pizza and it was basically a giant crouton...well that didn't stop me from eating it. In fact, as I sat here fiddling on the computer I looked over to grab another piece only to realize that I'd already eaten half of it! I'd like to think that because they overcooked the pizza, it somehow removed all the fat and substance one could once call cheese because I'm hungrier now than before I started eating. I'd compare it to those Quaker Rice Cakes I sometimes eat--usually the whole bag because they're basically air, right?

Maybe I'll go check out the other new menu items.

Just an Update

This is my sister feeding our nephew. Isn't she pretty!?



My sister is my dearest friend besides my husband. She just left on a mission for our church (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) and I miss her. She left on December 14th and entered the MTC or the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah. She will be serving in Santa Rosa, California and will be starting there on January 9th. I can't believe she is actually gone. It's a very strange feeling, in fact, to not be able to contact her whenever I want. I am used to not seeing her all the time as she lived in our hometown of Littleton, Colorado before she left. I was, however, very used to being able to call her all the time and just chat about random things. So that is taking a bit of adjustment time. For those of you who are unfamiliar with our church and how we spread the Gospel, you can go to http://www.lds.org/ and get more info on our missionary program. But to give you a brief idea, missionaries are unable to talk on the phone to their families unless it is Christmas or Mother's Day. We must instead communicate by good old-fashioned snail mail. There are a lucky few that get permission to communicate via email. I have to admit, though, that it is much more fun to receive a letter in the mail than to get an email. You know that the person obviously had to think about you more to sit down write a letter, address and envelope, and stamp and mail it. So that is a part I have enjoyed. My sister is a very courageous girl. She has been through some amazing trials that not many of us will ever have to endure in this lifetime and hopefully we don't. Needless to say, it's been rough for her over the past few years as she has learned to deal with the trauma of seeing what she saw and experienced at Columbine in 1999. She has grown tremendously...in fact; we were both kind of forced to grow up a little faster than most high school students. But she has grown into an extremely driven, proactive, and motivated individual. She has been a great example to me and I'm grateful to her and her decisions. Anyway, I just wanted to tell the world what an amazing and irreplaceable sister I have. So NANNY NANNY BOOBOO!

Livin' In Gangsta's Paradise

When my in-laws got back from France we were living in their brand new house. My husband and I lived rent-free on the condition that we would take care of the house and feed the dog. Nikki, the dog, is a mix between a yellow lab and a cocker-spaniel (I have no idea how to spell that as I detest that kind of dog). She's rather prissy and constantly walks at the heels of my feet when I'm home. I'm not sure why she likes me so much because I've pretty much been mean since the moment I became a part of the Bush family. But enough about the dog. Since my in-laws got back, we decided it was only fitting that we get a place of our own. It was time to be completely independent and free from any possible obligation to his parents for allowing us to mooch off of them. I love my in-laws very much but there comes a time in every daughter-in-law's life when it's time to have her husband all to herself. That time has come. Jon and I looked for a place to live for a couple of weeks. After visiting numerous excuses for two-bedroom apartments, we were about to sign a contract with the last one we looked at when we decided to just visit one more. We got lost on the way to the apartment and found ourselves winding through what we now call "Duplex-ville". When we arrived at our destination, we saw yet another duplex that appeared to be old and unkempt but much to our surprise, the apartment was clean, white, and spacious. It was like walking into a mansion after seeing the previous available apartments for newly married couples. We signed the contract right then and there. We moved in on Saturday and, in fact, that was the ONLY thing we did on Saturday. We have since slept there for two nights and have discovered a slight invasion of earwigs. We have come to the realization that the apartment will have it's downfalls (i.e. "Mexican Circus Music" as Jon calls it, in the early morning hours, white-trash neighbors with 5 cars parked in their driveway that don't run, and blinds that do little to provide privacy--which will be updated soon). All in all, I must say that I am very excited to be on our own and have an apartment all to ourselves that we can decorate and arrange exactly as we please.

Closing Time

So the time has finally come and I have to admit I wasn't expecting it to be so soon. For the last 3 months, my husband and I have been living in his parents’ old house which has not sold yet. There is one part of that situation that has just changed and will ultimately change everything else along with it. This old couple from California just decided to buy the house and while I am excited for my in-laws on finally selling the house, I am vexed at the thought of having to move once again--mid semester. I have to declare, and I have thought about this quite a bit, that among my very most loathed things in life is moving, hangers (yes the one's you put in your closet), and people who chew loudly. I absolutely hate moving. After processing the last few moving experiences over and over in my head and trying to figure out what exactly it is that is causing this abhorrence. With my psychological experience (which is none, but I like to think I have some) I have decided that because the last 5 years of my life have been so completely transient, I really haven't had what one would call a "home". Once I left the nest and moved away for school, my parents sold our old house where I spent my most important developmental years. That was hard. So I moved into the dorms at school for my freshman year. The next year I lived in a two story condo with my friends from the dorms. Then I moved to Hawaii for 3 months and lived in a Hawaiian family's house but at least had my own kitchen (which I never used). Upon my return to the mainland I took refuge in my brother and sister-in-law's house for a year. When I finally got tired of being stuck in a 10 ft by 10 ft room with my sister and sleeping on a trundle bed--which when pulled out took up the entire floor--I moved to another apartment where my sister and I ended up only staying for the summer. I then leached off of a friend of the family's and lived in her house until I got married in December. After we got married, since my in-laws had already moved to their new house, we moved into the old one and kept it alive while people toured through it. So after seeing how many different places I've lived and called home for the past 4 or 5 years, it isn't difficult to see why I hate moving. Another factor in the analysis may be that I have a dangerously large amount of shoes and clothing and it takes me nearly three Subaru Outback carloads to move just those things. What can I say, I love shoes. Anyway, I'm very grateful to have had 3 great rent free months in a large house where I was able to actually separate all my shoes and organize them without them being utterly chaotic after one morning of looking for my maroon Dansko clogs. So the reason I came to my room this evening, put on my pajamas, bundled up in my covers and spread my laptop out on the bed was because my husband had just gotten off the phone with his mother and it is pretty sure that we'll be moving within the next month or so. I was mad. I'm not sure at what or who but to save myself from any familial conflicts; I'm blaming it on my shoes.

Razzles

First it’s a candy, then its gum! Have you ever had Razzles? Friday night, my husband and I rented the movie "Thirteen Going on Thirty". The movie was cute--I have to admit--I love the cheesy love stories even though you know the perfectly mismatched, contentious people will hook up at the end. That's what makes movies so great, the impossible always happens (at least in good ones). So there is a point to this, I promise. Razzles make a star appearance in the film as being a favorite childhood candy. I guess after watching the movie, I had Razzles subconsciously hanging on my mind. So Saturday night rolls around and since my husband, Jonathan, and I are still busy moving things around and getting situated, we had a bit of shopping to do. While waiting to return this really great nickel-coated shower rack at Bed, Bath & Beyond, I spotted them--Razzles! The brightly colored purple package lay there on the shelf amidst the other temptations. I picked up the package, excited as a sixth grader on the last day of school, and showed them to Jonathan. He, obviously, had never had them. I recounted my childhood memories of chasing the ice cream truck down the street and buying bags of Razzles with my sister. I held the package in my hand as we walked around the store looking for very adult things like duvet covers and pillow shams and whisks. Needless to say, we purchased the gum-like candies... along with a new silk duvet cover. As we drove to our next destination, Jon and I, like children, popped the Razzles in our mouths one by one and chewed them until they turned to gum and immediately lost their flavor. We'd count to three and roll the windows down at the same time and spit out the old gum, ready to try the next flavor. Why do they always put more yellows than any other color? I wish they only made bags of red candy. So, my point is that I found our evening completely ironic and contradicting in moods. We were so excited to have grown old enough to decorate our own house and to pick out all the fun accessories and knick knacks but we still couldn't let go of the child within. I know, once again I've made a cheesy observation. But don't you think it's important to keep that alive and to laugh more and play more? I read something a while ago that said that kids laugh up to 600 times a day while adults only laugh 3 times a day. That's horribly sad.