the first hundred.

"The first hundred years are the hardest"-Mizner

BLOG HAS MOVED January 31, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 5:00 am

Hello buddies and readers and secret friends who read but never comment…shamey shamey I don’t want to go to Mexico no more, more, more, more there’s a big fat policeman at my door, door, door.

The time has arrived just like New Kids said on Step 5.

If I haven’t lost you in the past two references, I’m glad you are here to know that I have moved to a domain. This page won’t disappear so if you forget the new domain, you can come here for redirection. For that matter, if you can’t remember the new address when you are referring someone here, just guide them to this page and they will find their way home like big hardy dogs.

Please follow me to: =0)

See you round, kids.


January 26, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 10:02 pm

Due to scheduling conflicts, I cannot sit down with my computer master to move my blog on Thursday. I’ve been trying to do it myself and I usually get part way, have to web chat customer service, ask them my questions, they answer, I don’t understand and just say thank you. It’s hard being me on a computer.  I’ve talked to George, Kacy, and Chris.  I ask real dumb questions and I tell them up front that it’s gonna be stupid, buuuuuuut I’m pretty sure they talk about me over their cubicle anyways.

I’ve been trying to move these words of mine, finish decorating the new extension of our church (for sure not going to happen in time), working on my latest craft addiction that replaces cakes, AND my old job asked me if I would come back in and train a new hire and believe it or not, I’ve been back at work. Don’t get carried away. It’s only for this week and next.  What do you think I like money or something?  Preposterous.  I like babies.  In your face.

Speaking of babies, I also forgot to add that I’m a mother to that list.

Mom is tired tonight. Not even bad American Idol auditions can save the day now.

Well, maybe.

Maybe if it’s really funny and they won’t take no for answer and just keep starting songs over and over again as if a different song is going to change the sound.  Those are funny.

Anyways, lucky for me I posted Stronger this week because, if not, this week would be a total blog sham.  Thanks to the person who subscribed last night in spite of its shame.  Also, thanks to my dad for singing Jesus music to my baby or I would’ve had nothing to say.

My life is falling apart from now until approximately Wednesday.  Alls I want is a new, shiny blog page with my own name and neat little things to look at that will make you say something fancy about it. When I finally get my new page, mail me candy and I’ll open the envelope real hard so it flies everywhere and I’ll say, “A parade for me?  Really?” 

Just consider it.


Get Your Passport Ready January 25, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 10:06 am

There are some things you will learn about your spouse only after you marry them. For example, I had no idea Lance snored and had conversations in his sleep on a regular basis until our honeymoon. Also on our honeymoon, I learned something about him that affects the way he handles minor stresses:

with a full-blown panic attack breakdown.

My first glimpse of this was when we were flying out of Mexico to go back to the states. We had

of time but Lance was SERIOUS about getting in line with his passport ready. I remember sitting there in one of the seats at the gate watching him standing up around where they board with his passport in hand, ready and open. This was apparently a life or death situation and he could not take the chance of the pages being stuck together in his passport causing us to not be able to show his face and miss our flight.

I laughed at him then but really, I was the fool. This would be the rest of my life. We still joke about that in moments where he is, lets say, “over-reacting”. I call it “Get your passport ready” and that’s exactly what I say when he is entering his flip out mode. We even have a gesture to indicate the breakdown. All you have to do is give a big, dorky nervous smile and hold your hand up to your face as if you are holding your passport for quick and optimal identification. Even 6 1/2 years after the honeymoon, we still do this.

Last night we experienced this effect. I was on the phone (unfortunately) so my sister heard the total loss of Lance control.

He had chipped a ceramic bowl, stepped on the broken piece, and then upon trying to remove said piece, cut his finger. Sound the alarm, Lance has cut his finger!

Now what Lance would wish for me to tell you is that is wasn’t ‘a paper cut, Rebecca!’. It was a real gash.

True, and while it did bleed for about 45 minutes, worst case scenario is going to the ER to get it glued up.

I understood this so I was calm, as the situation would cause one to be. He acted as if he had severed his arm off onto the kitchen floor and here I was just a talking on the phone while he fought for his life.

Get your passports ready, please.

Because I wasn’t acting in accordance with this terrible disaster, he does what all logical people do and begins to walk around the house bleeding on to the floor, washer, sink in both the bathroom and the kitchen, hmmmmm, where else?

Of course this was because he needed a towel or something and, “I am selfish and don’t care!”

“Don’t care!!!!!” is one of my favorite things he says in times like these because he is acting like something traumatic has happened and I’m just humming a little tune to myself like it’s no big deal.

Sort of like when we went running in our neighborhood at night and he turned his ankle. I totally get that it hurts but all sympathy is lost when he sits on an electrical box and says in all teary drama, “I’ll never be able to play basketball AGAIN!” Not, “I’ll have to sit out a season. Guys, this is forever. Put the ole’ basketball shoes in a shadow box on the wall for memorial.

When that starts to happen I just completely watch him like he’s a sideshow and I can no longer take him seriously. It’s almost like the more he freaks out, the more I’m just a normal ole’ person.  This usually makes him freak out more.

The thing is, he never spazzes about things that matter or the big issues which is I guess good because I, like a normal person, do that. He’s more of the “foil got stuck to my oven pizza” explosive type.

“Lance, I want to use fertility treatments and have 14 kids.”

He would be totally calm.

“Lance, I burnt your chocolate chip cookies.”

You know what to do. Get out your passport.

Inevitably, he calms down after these ordeals and realizes that he was being a freakazoid.

I wanted to end this piece with a picture of the injury. Lance knew I was going to write a blog about it so I walked into his office and said, “I’m gonna need a picture of this.” He laughed and told me no.

I don’t know if you guys were ready to see a picture of an index finger with a band-aid on it. If you weren’t, Lance would totally understand. You could always google phrases like “cut my finger” “cut my finger with a knife” etc. like Lance did last night when I was “not caring” about the “tragedy at hand”.  I will warn you though that you may end up pulling up graphic images of hands slashed by knives which is totally not what happened to Lance.

At the end of the day, I’m just glad we pulled through.  He didn’t even get blood on his passport.  It was a good day.


Announcement January 19, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 6:53 pm

I’m excited to announce that my blog will be moving to its own domain name next week! If you’re white, raise the roof or fist pound somebody. Then be ashamed. If you are black, do the Dougie and be proud. If you are Asian, do any kind of hip hop move because judging by all the dance competition shows, you could probably do that really well.

I’m super excited for years and days.

The domain will be and some of you have used that domain to be directed to my wordpress blog from other sites.  Now that blog will take you to my new page instead of to here.

Eventually, I hope to buy but some dork domain company is selling it for 894 dollars. Basically that means that they don’t use it but want to sell it for some poor blogger or business person to buy. I have sad feelings towards them doing that. Until then, I’ll have the one I just gave you above and will probably keep both domains if I ever buy the one my heart REALLY wants.

When I move at the end of next week (or the following Monday), I’ll still be using a wordpress compatible host so not much should look different to you guys. HOWEVER, I will have more bells and whistles with the new site. Yesssssss!  Hopefully some things will look different.

I decided that this is my year to start making baby steps to make my blog even better and dare I say, money-making. Making this move will allow me to monetize my site which makes my wallet say thank you.

If you forget that I’ve moved, it’s okay because although there won’t be new posts on this page, there will be a final post on the top of the page with a link, telling you I’ve moved.

I am my hero. Also, my brother-in-law who is computer savvy and helping me do all this. He is before me in hero-ship.

Get excited.


Ann Wade Parrish Photography- Shelly’s Wedding January 18, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 8:27 am


Stronger January 16, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 9:09 pm
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I run in just a little late like I always do these days after having a baby. I hand Eden off to my dad. He smiles, admiring her face while she excitedly reaches for his styrofoam cup. Leave it to babies to like cups, spoons, and paper more than toys.

I quickly walk up to the stage and take one big step up to my spot at the mic and immediately began practicing for worship with Lance singing and playing right beside me.

Nothing is any different this Sunday than all rest: always busy, familiar songs, typical practice.

I turn the page and we start to sing the song “Stronger”. It’s one of my dad’s favorites so I look up to see if he realizes that we are playing “his” song.

With the light of the sun bursting in behind him, I see the silhouette of my father, holding my daughter with her little cream tutu and leggings bulging out around his shirtsleeves.

I can’t hear him over the roar of the music and the sound of the monitors in my ears but I knew what he was doing.

With one arm holding up my child and another raised in the air, he was singing the song to her.

Their faces were just a few 6 or so inches away as he convictedly sang in his nothing fancy, holding a tune in a bucket voice. sincerely, he looked at her and she intently studied his face.

With the sound of the electric guitar, piano, and percussion behind me, the sound of my husband to the left, I couldn’t help but watch him sing those precious words to my child.

“You are stronger;
You are stronger;
Sin is broken
You have saved me
It is written
Christ has risen
Jesus you are Lord of all….”

In my predictable fashion, I couldn’t help but to well up in my eyes a bit. Between the chorus end and the next verse, I ran over to Lance’s mic to tell him to watch them on the floor.

When the chorus played again, sure enough, my dad raised his hand and sang to Eden.

I watch Lance.

He glances at me.

We both smile, thankfully, back at one another for a brief moment.

It’s hard for me to describe what it does to me to see three generations there on the church floor: me on the stage, and my dad holding his grandchild on the floor.

There was something about singing those words and watching that take place that moves me. I felt a simultaneous gratitude to God for who He is and who He gave me in my father, and then for my father and who he has been to me and is being to my child some 28 years after I was born to him.

I felt an intense feeling of being rescued by the grace of God in my life both spiritually and the earthly grace I had to be raised the way I was. When I was just a little baby like my daughter with no choice or control in the world of who would take care of me, he gave me my parents.

It was another one of those moments in my life where I’m standing in the middle of the result of my parent’s faithfulness and God’s provision.

When he is gone, I will remember him in that mid-morning light singing God’s grace over my first-born on a regular Sunday morning.

Some days God’s faithfulness is apparent immediately.  Sometimes, it takes life times, and even generations to see clearly.  Three to be exact.

When that song finished, my dad and Eden ran up to me before the next song began and he said, “Some time when no one is around, I’d like for you and I to sing that song together up there.”

I smiled in a sort-of tickled way and said, “Okay”.

Eden and my dad went walking out of the sanctuary and I think to myself, “Sometimes he just doesn’t know how good of a man he is.”

As they disappeared around the corner, I’m so glad I do.


Please Break-up With Me January 13, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 8:27 pm

I don’t like those ads that run down the side of a Facebook page. Number one, they look cheap. Number 2, they know your information and tailor the ads to you specifically.  I feel like they are trying to trick me.

“Are you a mom in your twenties?”
“Do you like babies?”
“Do you like eating so that you can live?”

Anything that applies to you, most likely will run as a janky ad on your page. Today, I saw the mother, father, sister, and homie of all ads.

The banner said:


Now one would think it’s something some sort of product you could by him, perhaps an iPhone or iPad. Maybe it could also be advertising entertainment, restaurants, or something you could do with him on a date.

One would think, at least.

Then at the bottom it had a picture of a baby. Now this is getting confusing.

Turns out the ad was for a site called and you can surprise your boyfriend with a computer generated version of what your baby would look like.

There is nothing that a boyfriend wants less than for their crazy girlfriend to morph their pictures together in a computer to make a pretend baby.

I just had to laugh.

“Honey, I have a surprise for you!!!!!”

“I made our babyyyyyyy!!!”

I wish you could hear me saying that because a lot of comic relief is lost without my facial and vocal expressions.

If you want to be single at the quickest rate possible, please go to and go on with your crazy bad self.

Your baby won’t judge you. Make-believe baby will love you unconditionally. Unlike the boyfriend you have who will make you look like a psychopath to the whole town.

So go on friend, make a freaky looking generated baby and give your boyfriend the surprise he really wants:  a picture of what his child would look like if he was crazy enough to stay with you after you make fake children on-line.


Disclaimer:  It is okay to make computer babies if both parites are conscenting and the baby is NOT a surprise.  Jillian’s could possibly have a machine that will morph your faces into children or half of your face and  half  of a monkey’s face.  I probably have never done that.


A Day at a Time January 11, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 10:50 pm
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It hit me that in 12 weeks Eden will be one. Really? How is that possible? People always tell you that time will fly but it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. What happened to time? I’ve had years of my life go faster than others but this is so fast that it’s disorienting. I have NO CLUE where time went. More than that, I don’t know what makes time so different now. Is it because I love her so much and enjoy being her mom so much that is zooms by? Is it because she is always changing so much that I can’t stay on top of how much time is passing? Is it because I don’t have a job-job anymore so I don’t look at dates so time just gets away from me? I don’t know what is happening.

My mom and I talked a lot about it this morning. She says it’s because I’ve never been so invested in something before as you do when you’re a mom. She says it’s because you are savoring every moment. She’s right. Every day I can’t believe who she is and who she is becoming. A week in baby time, definitely two weeks, makes all the difference in baby world. If a skill isn’t mastered in one week, the following week will have major improvements. One week they are learning to sit up and then a few months later your daughter is sitting on the table in her Bumbo mimicking you telling her no and she’s trying to say it! Who is this wonder, genius baby?

I think sometimes about how much I love her and how she won’t remember these precious times we spent together and it makes me sad. I feel like these days won’t matter as much to her as they did to me. I just want her to know how much I loved her, spent time with her, did anything to make her laugh, anything to makes things special for her and I know some day she will….. when she’s a parent.

You really can’t explain a parent’s love. You can’t understand it until you’ve looked at your child and you cherish even the sticky up hair on her head so much that you feel sad when it starts to lay flat. Where is my little fuzzy headed baby going one week at a time? It bittersweetly breaks my heart to see this tiny, rolly polly baby waving spoons above her head on the floor to look at her and I think, “I love you so much and one day, I’ll never see this baby again.” It may sound dramatic but something about knowing almost a year has passed without me even knowing it has made me so sad to think/feel these things. And when I say I’ll never see this baby again, I’m not talking about some exaggeration about when she leaves home. I’m being literal in that one day she will be 5 and I will never have this baby back. It’s the most quickly fleeting joy to have her as a baby. I’m gonna miss this little person one day.

Here I am talking like this and she doesn’t even talk or walk yet. I hear ya.  I guess seeing how these first 8 or so months have vanished makes me certain that those next milestones will come and go before I know it. Well, hopefully they won’t ‘go’ because I kind of dream of her being able to walk and talk her whole life.

In the stage I’m in now, it is so hard to look forward and see it all clearly. As stupid as I always thought it sounded when other people said it, and as much as it pains me to say out loud, I’m having a hard time seeing how I could love another child as much as Eden. Sounds sooooooo dumb.  I’m having a difficult time conceiving a lot of things about parenting and that, hypocritically, is one of them.

I read this quote on a new mom’s facebook page yesterday.

“A baby will make love stronger, days shorter, nights longer, your bankroll smaller, the past forgotten, and the future worth living for.”

Not only is Eden worth living for but she makes me feel like I just started to really live.  I am honored to be her mother and I love who she is every day.  I’m just sad you lose them little by little in the process.


Planted January 9, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 9:02 pm

I never dreamed I would be a pastor’s wife. Some girls I know prayed that they would be but that was not what I was praying. Not that there is anything wrong with it but it’s not something I was seeking or pictured myself as when I was in college. When Lance first told me he was going to be in the ministry, I was singing in Nashville and pursuing that professionally with a nice offer on the table. He said he was going to do youth ministry and I was like, “Hold up!” How would that work? I would be singing and you just tell the church, that sorry I couldn’t be there because I had some tunes to sing…..

It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t a fit.

Obviously, things worked out but me, a pastor’s wife? I never really saw myself with 3 foot long hair, wearing crocheted sweaters with doves embroidered on the front.

Wait, I’m not done.

….with a white turtleneck underneath and a long denim skirt with a seam that runs up the middle.

One more thing….

With with white ankle socks folded down with chunky brown clogs that make my skirt too short.

Still, minus all the deep south Baptist stereotyped attire, I find myself a pastor’s wife. Oddly, but to God, purposefully, it all makes sense.

When I look at my gifts, it makes so much sense to me that I’m in this church with this man. I sing. We needed musical folks as a new church. I counsel. Not sure of a skill much more helpful in the church. I even decorate which seems weird to be used at a church but not when your church is in the new stages and under construction. We moved into a shopping center so it needed “a little transformation”.

I always been compassionate loved helping the down and out and where is our church? In the projects.  

I have always said I should’ve been a black woman because I love black people and their culture so much. I know, I know, black people are just like us…. except they are better atheletes most of the time and my favorite, better singers. I LOVE the soulful african american voice. Sing to me Beyonce! Yoddle to me, Jasmine Sullivan. Vocalize sweet melodies, Alicia Keyes. Yall know what I mean. You feel me.

I get to be in such a diverse community with all sorts of races and cultures. It’s like a little concentrated melting pot and I adore it.

More than any other church I’ve been a part of, it’s a joy for me to be there. It’s authentic. Sincere. There is such a missional purpose to everything done and I thoroughly enjoy it there.

I was just sitting there this morning, listening to my husband preach an excellent sermon and thinking, “This is exactly where I’m supposed to be and exactly where Lance is supposed to be.” It’s a good feeling because a lot of our lives we spend longing for something else but in this, I know this is where I’ve been planted and I’m content.

Two years ago this month, a small group of people started a church in an unconventional way in the small projects of my hometown. I look at around our church of African refugees, retired missionaries in their 70’s, college students, young families, even homeless people at times, and I know that everything God has given me and equipped me with my whole life has been for such a time as this,  for these people for God’s church.

In a 5 thousand square foot corner space of shopping center off a Kentucky highway…..

I was made for this.


Who works harder, men or women? January 6, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 9:08 pm
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There are two ways to really get to know someone: marry them and then have children with them. In some ways, it brings out the truest colors you will ever see of your other half.

Having a baby will either strengthen or destroy your marriage, or so my father says. I think he is right. One of the common times for divorce is not only when you first have kids, but also, when they leave and the nest is empty. The stress of children coming into your life impacts your marriage and totally redefines both your lives and, for many, that redefinition becomes about you and the kids and less about each other which leaves two strangers in the house together when the kids hit the road.

As a new mom, I naturally end up talking to other moms and I think the issue with most new families is the same thing from one couple to the next and it’s a BIG issue. It seems that the song everyone is singing is a two-part harmony. The lassie is singing that “he never helps me or doesn’t help enough” while the lad is singing “I work all day, I’m tired”. I think this has been a hit song since about 1400.

Luckily for me, I find myself on the good side of this story. My husband is wonderful at helping me out, although we both have our moments of pointing the finger at the other when we are tired. Sometimes this isn’t with words but certain glances or sighs when the baby cries and we both feel like it’s the “others” turn.  You know what I mean.  If you have kids, I’m positive you do.

BUT even though he’s great, I am still human and I have definitely felt like most women when I have those days that I feel like I do it mostly on my own.

I don’t work outside the home so I can’t speak for working moms but this is how a lot of stay-at-homers feel….

Our job is 24/7 and even when we leave ‘the office’ our office comes with us. Most of the time, getting out of the office is more stressful because it requires packing up the entire building and if the building gets out-of-order in the middle of a trip to the grocery, well….it can get ugly. Price check on anxiety pills aisle 3.

Lance and I recently had a real fast exchange of words about feeling like we never get breaks. He said to me that his job is stressful and non-stop. I totally agree and really, really, really appreciate that he works so hard so that I can stay at home with our daughter. But since we were one upping each other, that was beside the point… =0)

I said, “The day you carry your boss around with you all day on your hip and he cries and demands everything from you that very instance, then we will talk.”  Also he needs to poop his pants and play with baby musical toys all day long to add to that list.  Think you are going crazy at work?  Add add the ABC’s over top of your most stressful moment.  Ah, what a sweet melody.

It sounded like it was a serious argument but really it was lighthearted. I hate even typing stuff like that because it makes parenting and Eden herself seem like a burden but we love her and I want to spend all my time with her sometimes even if I feel like I need a break and that’s true for us both. Even in the moments when neither of us feels like going to get her when she cries, when she enters the room and starts smiling, all of the frustration sort of drifts away. At least until she fusses again…. ;0)

Still, I don’t care how much you love each other or how much you love your baby, at some point or at many points, the old familiar tune of who works harder or who is more tired starts to play.

Let me tell you what Lance and I have learned in this 8 1/2 months.

He works like a dog and he’s tired.

I work like a dog and I’m tired.

When that argument or thought comes up, here’s the universal deal: YOU ARE BOTH EXHAUSTED! And exhausted is exhausted no matter which way you cut it and since you can both relate, that is why you have to do it as a team. Parenting isn’t a one-man game and I pity the people who find themselves married but doing it all alone. If you can both do it together then you can both share the load rather than one person going way over their limit and then becoming useless in both areas of parenting and in being a spouse.

A spouse who is forced to carry the load alone is someone who is secretly heaping fault after fault of their spouse on top of each other building one serious case of bitterness towards their partner. This can and does destroy a marriage.

They argument should never be who works harder.  The whole premise of that argument is selfish because it’s saying, my time and need for a break outweighs yours.  If you are being a selfless spouse, when you and your partner find yourselves pooped on the couch together that’s where you should find yourself working together too out of love for your family and each other.

If you cook, he cleans.

You do the dishes while he folds a load.

He bathes the baby and you feed her dinner.

I heard my sister-in-law say that if my brother gives her a break with time out of the house on her own, when she gets home, it’s still team work and not one person taking on all the responsibility to make-up for having personal free-time.  If you do the whole ‘It’s all you now’ attitude then you will start to dread your break because you know you will have to pay by working overtime when you get home.  Team work works all times, in all situations.  I think this attitude and way of helping your spouse and your family actually creates within you to want to out help your partner. 

This is just how it works, folks.  It’s a practical way to love not just your spouse but your whole family.  You are teaching a silent but loud message to your kids this way too.  Living your life this way in your family breeds feelings of love from the wife and brews respect up for her husband.  At the end of the day, your partner’s needs are met and your kid’s  needs simultaneously.  It kills a lot of arguments to just support each other and be the active player in your family’s life like you should be, anyways.  

Dads:  You don’t want to check out when you get home because your job has been so tiring because only having the interest in spending time with your kids on the weekends means you only get to spend real-time with them 144 days a year out of the full 365.  Your time is short anyways and most dads have, at best, 3 or 4 hours with their children when they get home.  Your bonding time with them as children is reading the books, bathing them, feeding them, etc.  That is how you bond.  Hopefully you miss your kids during the day and see it as a joy to get the privilege of coming home to them.  When they are older they won’t care how tired you were.  They will just know you weren’t involved.  They grow-up one missed day at a time.

Furthermore, love your wife by caring for her and making her job feel important.  Love your wife so your kids will know how to love their spouses and be able to see how a man should love a woman when they make their choice in a partner one day.  When you miss out on your kids because you’ve had a long day.  Someone has to take care of them so your wife will end up doing it solo.  Then, you miss out on them both.  Be what you are:  a family.

Moms:  Trust your husband to care for your kids when he wants to and don’t criticize his efforts.  Even if he leaves poop on the baby changer and the wipes open.  I’m being such a hypocrite right now but I know I’m wrong for doing that to him. 

Staying at home is hard and it’s easy to think you are spending a lot of time with your child because you are physically present but that isn’t always the case.

It’s easy to give your child things to entertain them rather than being engaged with them.  You can be living for your child’s next nap or your next break and doing everything you can to make your day easier and in the midst of that, not be intentional in investing in your child.

You too can be so tired that you are checking out so it’s not specifically a man’s problem.

Both men and women can be MIA due to exhaustion.  Basically, you have to both be intentional in loving each other, loving your children, and working together.  As contrary to popular culture as it may be, love only occasionally comes easy.  The rest is work. 

So, who does really work harder, men or women?

If you are asking that question, you’ve already decided that it’s you that wins this argument.  I challenge you to not ask who works harder but value that you both do and get to workin’! 



January 5, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 9:57 pm

Thanks to for being my number one personal referrer according to my 2010 wordpress report.  I appreciate you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  =0)


Here. I Give To You My Dreams In This Fashionable Medela Shoulder Bag. January 4, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 10:08 pm
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Say it.

Say you are formula feeding your baby.


For the past 9 months, that has been the hardest thing for me to say.  I’ve actually even cried over my food at the kitchen table about it.  I’m trying to be expressive for a change.

I breastfed so I know it’s inconvient, painful at times, demanding, all consuming, let’s see what else?  So because I know that, it may seem  crazy to be so sad about it to others who are not enjoying their milkier times or didn’t enjoy them when they were the real Dairy Queen.  BUT something about knowing I can’t makes me remember all the sweet and precious moments of being your baby’s only source of nutrition and survival.  It’s like the external version of the umbilical cord and you just love caring for them that way.

However, I am severing my dream of breastfeeding my baby officialy with the  ceremonial selling of my breastpump.  I have picked it up and thought, “Well, you never know….someday….maybe….right?”  For real, I am just now exiting my denial phase. Throughout these past 9 months I have come up with a million different twists of how I can tweak breastfeeding so it works for me but  I know that the only way for me to try breastfeeding again is by taking the chance of not being medicated and going down that dark postpartum road again and if I was in that position again, speaking for that person, I’d tell you it’s not worth it.  Seems like everyone in my life, including my doctor, has told me its not worth it and I guess I’m getting to that point of seeing that clearly myself.

Coming to this realization, I actually feel a little bit of the excitement I felt when the doctor told me to stop when Eden was a few weeks old.  The feeling was something like screaming FREEDOM  butt-naked from the top of cliff in the rainforest while nature beasts gather around me like Snow White beckoning the birds with her vocals.

Breastfeeding is a huge responsibility and now I can have anyone help me at anytime, anywhere, when my baby is any age. I can appreciate that convience.  That’s huge.  Sure, I wish I could give my baby the best nutrition but I can’t give her excellent nutrition and a garabage can mom. 

I will be sad when, Lord willing, we have another baby and I don’t get those first sweet nursing moments and days in the hospital BUT I think I’m becoming okay with being a bottle slinger. 

Mommy is growing up sniff, sniff.  I get big so fast.


Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 3:51 am



It’s Gettin’ A Little Shaky Round Here January 2, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 8:29 pm
Tags: ,

Last night in bed, I gave Lance a disheartening prophecy for this new year: our hometown will experience a devastating earthquake.  I’m sorry to just put it out there like that.   It was tough to deliver the news to him and now to you all is just hard to cope with.

I know it’s hard to tell but I’m being halfway serious.  A few days ago, southern Indiana had a 4.5 earthquake.  About a year ago here in my hometown, some of us woke up to our house rumbling.  Others rumbled but slept through it.  See exhibit Lance.

If you grew up around here, your whole life you learned in school that if we ever have an earthquake that it will be massively destructive.  I remember learning that in elementary school.  Probably because it freaked me out so bad that I dropped my trapper keeper every time.  At least it wasn’t the pencil box that had all the gadgets that popped out like a swiss army knife.

Fortunately for us, we all live over one of, if not the worst, fault lines in the ole’ U.S. of A.  To add insult to injury, our city pretty much sits on top of one of the world’s largest cave systems. Nothing like your home sitting on nice, sturdy hollow ground. mmmmmmmm.

About 5 years ago, a street just completely fell into the ground while cars were driving on it.  It was a hole the size of either a baseball field or football field.  I know that’s a big difference but when your car drops into the earth, who can get lost in such details?  You can’t.  You just get lost in the hole and basically that’s all.

Looks like we are headed for doom just like all of our teachers told us.  We are a ticking, shaking, cave time bomb. 

I was talking to a buddy about how I feel impending wobbling doom coming upon town and she said, “You know what to do in an earthquake, right?”

“Of course.  Get under my school desk.”

Our teachers terrified us all to just equip us with the survival skill of getting under a desk.  Guess I should purchase of few of those.  I’ll need a few in the style of school desks from 1993 because that is what they taught me is best and I follow my leaders.

Then I said, “Really, I know.  Stand in a door way in a jumping jack position.  But how can I do that with a baby?”

She replied, “I guess you’ll have to do it with one hand.”

“Okay buuuuut  I really hope I can hold my house up with just one hand.  Two I’m sure about but one…..”

Look at me, laughing at this peril knocking at our door. 

If this really does happen and I fall into the depths of my crawl space and die and then you read this blog and feel real sad because I was joking about it and then it got me in the end, don’t feel too bad.  I had a real good time writing this one.  Plus, I really believe in the strength of my strong hand and elbow.


The Best Part of This Christmas December 30, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 5:28 pm

Hanging 3 stockings.  I’ve always wanted to do that =0)


Baby Products I’ll Buy Next Time

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 3:26 am

If rock stars were registries, they would’ve looked like my baby registry. 

Whatever that means. 

I did really good considering I had never been a mom before but if given the chance to register again, I’d do it a little different.  For example, I’d register for batteries (rechargeable ones) and baby food.  When you first have a kid, you think that things like baby food are light years away and then you give birth and realize how fast it goes and how fast you go through food.  I had said at first I would make my own baby food and then I realized, I’m too lazy.  I buy organic and feel guilt free so now my only regret is that I didn’t make my friends buy it for me at my showers. 

Next go round, I want these thingies at the bottom.  Take a looksie.


Nap Nannies are the easy answer for colic, gassy, and acid reflux babies. It’s a soft, inclined sleeper with a safety harness to keep your critter in place.  My baby was the refluxy and this would have been easier for me many time but especially as she got older.  Sure, you can put your baby in a car seat if your baby likes to sleep in those which my child didn’t so I needed options.  This is portable, stinkin’ cute, and can be used for years and years and becomes a toddler chair at it’s latest use. 

One thing I wish I had this for now is COLDS!  She’s too big for her swing and can get out of it so that doesn’t work.  She doesn’t like her car seat so that doesn’t work.  She rolls around too much for inclining her crib or mattress because she just rolls down hill to sleep so if I could just have a nap nanny then her night with colds would be so much better.  I want this little booger.  It’s expensive, gals.  130 bucks BUT I’ll be going the route to see what I can find there. 


Call me lazy but whether you bottle feed or do it dairy cow style, we all need a break from feeding our babies every 2 seconds.  This, like the above product, requires parental supervision but I can sit that child o’ mine beside me and take a break while she safely feeds herself.  I downloaded this high-tech picture for you to see a killer demo.  There are other versions of this kind of product  that can attach to car seats, etc.  This little foam thing will give me a five-minute break next time. And if you have multiples, which this product markets to, then you will get several breaks all at once. Priceless. 


I was lucky enough to have a sister with babies who is done having kids who passed me a version of this seat down but if she didn’t, I would have totally registered for it.  I haven’t seen these in stores but there are different versions of these on-line by Aqualand (think that’s right) and Safety 1st to name a few. 

Once a baby can sit, they don’t want to recline in those infant tubs.  Not to mention my kitchen was looking awfully skanky with baby bath clutter everywhere and a big infant tub in the sink.  Plus, it grossed me out when food debris got onto the tub from the sink.  Disgusting.

I was so happy to be able to move her to the big tub and know that she wouldn’t fall over because of the seat.  Now, you can’t of course leave your baby in the tub like, “Oh, she got this….”  and leave the room because obviously that’s not true.  BUT if you are in the room, it’s good for you both.  Why don’t stores have these? 


When I started riding the chuga-chuga crazy choo-choo train after having Eden, a friend rushed me a few products and this product was one of them.  It’s the Itzbeen timer so “you always know how long itzbeen”.  This is a MUST-HAVE.  I didn’t register for it but if I did it all over, it would’ve been top of my list.  Here’s the description from the site



It’s about time someone created a tool to help new parents remember the basic details of baby care. Now someone has.

ITZBEEN™ Baby Care Timer was developed by a new mom and dad who found themselves sleep-deprived and needing help to remember baby care details, such as when their baby last ate or napped. They tried charts and journals, but thought there had to be a better way. So, they created the ITZBEEN™: a multi-purpose nursery tool that helps new parents remember the basic details of baby care. The ITZBEEN™ has four timers that count up with the touch of a button, and a host of other helpful features, all designed with the needs of a new parent in mind.”
Okay for some reason, I can’t change the font or spacing back but oh well…..
If you are nursing, this is a life saver.  You can push a button to tell you when you nursed last and even ON WHICH SIDE.  Try remembering that with 2o minutes sleep.  It also has a nap timer, diaper change reminders, alarms for medicines, and alarms for any feature on the timer such a timer for when it’s time to feed your parasite again.  It has a clock and a light to guide your way as you stumble and fumble through your nursery at night so you don’t need to turn on the main lights.  I still use mine as my bed side clock and light to guide my way.  It will rock your baby world.  Only 19.99! 


I hope you feel like a genius now cause I sure do.


Big ones, Tiny Ones, Even Brown Ones December 27, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 9:38 pm
Tags: , ,

I hate sports. I hate big orange bouncy balls. I hate oblong leather brown balls. I hate little yellow ‘I hated tennis lesson’ balls. I hate, and I mean especially hate, little tiny white balls. I usually end up flinging the putter over and over Happy Gilmore style until I get 15 strokes a hole. That way I feel like I really got back at it and put it in it’s place. I truly hate hard to control ping pong balls. I hate volley balls that never go in the direction of my percise punches and jabs. I hate large heavy black solid balls that are, in fact, so heavy that I use kid sizes ON THE BUMPER LANE. Don’t judge me. I even hate cotton balls. Maybe even popcorn balls on a bad day.

Lance has been in fiercesome denial of this fact since our wedded bliss in August of 2004. He is always like, “Hey, hey, hey, watch this play!” Not intending to rhyme, of course, because that would be really un-mascqueline and thus, un-athletic. EVERY blasted time I say different versions of the same harsh reality which all revolve around the theme of “I don’t care!”

But still, for reasons still not known, he consistently calls me to the TV to watch some sort of play. The most maddening part about it all is that I tell him every time, “I don’t even know what’s going on?” He will say, “Look at Billy Stevens” or some players name and I”ll say, “Who is Billy Stevens? I don’t know who that is AND I don’t know what he is doing anyways!” Why does he still want to show me if it means nothing to me? The equivalent would be me calling to Lance when he is doing much more important things than what I am wanting to show him and he rushes to the living room to see a cross-stitching tournament in Japanese. Why are they quilting geese jumping over lambs? Who knows? What are they saying? It’s in Japanese. Who cares, I want you to watch this stupid thing whether it’s entertaining or not and I will repeatedly call you in here to witness the boring confusion. That is my example because I truly care about sports as much as grannies cracking their arthritic knuckles over pastel threads.

Poor brother, Lance. He loves these silly games so intensely. Sometimes I humor him and sit by him on the couch while he tantilizes his peepers with UK basketball. He will get the ocassional razzled feather and yell something mean to/about a player like,” What are you doing? Can you even catch a ball?!!!” I bring a rational and emotional touch to the game when I say, “That’s someone’s child. Even if you don’t know them, it’s no more right to make fun of them. What if you were their parent?” Somewhere in his soul I think he really appreciates the sensitive side I bring to televised sporting events.

Every now and then I go beyond suffering through sitting alongside him on the couch and do things like fill out March Madness brackets. I actually really enjoy this aspect of the torture-ish season where my TV is perpetually battered by constant images of men and their games. I enjoy even more that my bracket does better than many lads who treasure said basketball games. How do you do so well, some ask? See, you sports fanatics over-think it. I just look at the stats. Simple game of probability. I add in the occasional upset based on how the name hits me. Sometimes I’m drawn to names like, Elizabethtown Community College and put it in the Sweet 16. It’s like a psychic instinct of just feeling in my guts as to who is going to win. I know, know, ECC doesn’t play during March Madness but Larry Bird and Spud Webb haven’t played basketballs for years and years but it doesn’t stop me from answering every basketall trivia question with these guys. Kind of like when I played Shout About Movies with a girl who wasn’t from America. Every time she saw a boat in the scene she would guess Titanic. You just have to go with what you know and be confident that eventually, in sweet time, it will be the answer they game is looking for.

Tonight, as you might’ve guessed, Lance has interuptted me about a watching a basketball game and hence, this blog that has made your day. Commonly, he wants to show me something that a player does that’s impressive and I just think (and say) I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT BASKETBALL BECAUSE I DON’T PLAY OR WATCH IT SO IT WON’T SEEM IMPRESSIVE TO ME. Show me a guy who can do a granny shot from half-court, an attempt I can relate to. Now that’s something I could really get behind.

I don’t think he even hears me anymore when I plead my case as to why it’s unnecessary for me to participate in viewing certain plays. It’s not even about me really. He may not even know I’m in the room. That leads me to some ideas on handling the matter….

I’ve told him that I don’t like little league, high school, college, or professional sports….no level…no matter the ball….no matter the age. I hate sports. One time I even got so flustered that I raised my voice and said with intricatley enuciated words, “I hate basketball. I wouldn’t even care if they never. made. another. basketball!” Can’t really be more direct than that. You can’t care less than not being concerned with the manufacturing of particular sports balls.

In a twist of perfect blogging irony, upon typing the prior sentence, I asked Lance if we could play a game and he walked in not with Bananagrams or Yahtzee, but with a DVD NCAA Basketball trivia game.

I smile to myself in brilliant “I’m so right about this guy” fashion and say, “You know what I’m going to answer every question with right?”

“Uh, Michael Jordan?”


A grin came across his face and he said, “Larry Bird?”

How can this game be fair and balanced when he sees all my cards? Fingers crossed.

If I only I was Spud Webb.  Then I’d always be a winner. 

And black. 

Double win.


Blog Challenge Winner Team Booyah in Yo Face Sore Losers aka Katie December 21, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 4:47 am

Next time, this could be you! Dream big cronies.


December 19, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 10:27 pm

I could never be God. Which is, I’m guessing, pretty obvious for an infinite amount of reasons. For example, if I were God, animals couldn’t die so we’d all starve. I couldn’t look at the face of a cow and say, “Okay, this one, die right now.” Maybe if I was hungry enough but one thing is for sure, your pets could never die. We would be over run with 300 year old cats and 50-year-old guinea pigs which is like 1,000 years in g-pigs. G pig is a great name for a guinea pig.  Write that down.

I couldn’t decide on a time, age, or way I would want to die.

Hmmmm, so far my theories on this matter revolve around death, I see. Very interesting (taps her mouth thoughtfully but really, just sarcastically).

More seriously, I couldn’t decide what’s best for myself because it is impossible for some of the ‘best things’ not to include some of the hardest things. Because I’m so human, even if I KNEW the awesome end results that the trials would give me as a person, I’d chicken out every time. Being bullied? Pass. Parent’s divorcing? Pass. Getting my heartbroken? Triple-teen pass. I’m so glad we don’t have a say in what happens to us because I’d be one shallow, underdeveloped person.

Having chronic migraines has made me so thankful for the all the migraine free days, which are almost always nowadays.  Postpartum restored my marriage and I would never ever ever in my long-legged life choose that for the first time and even a second time even though it did a lot of good. 

Getting your heart shattered makes you look at your husband and think, “I did good.  I’m safe and loved and I wasn’t before.”  It’s just one of the thousands of things you can see in contrast to your love struggling days that makes you so thankful.

Infertility is one thing that I will never fully understand God’s purpose for in my life, this side of heaven.  I say that but then again, I still probably have a few more years to lasso under my belt so who knows?  I feel like saying that dismisses God’s ultimate purpose in things which is not to learn some dramatic life lesson.  I know I was constantly challenged to depend and wait on the Lord and to be patient.  That is a massive beast of a purpose.  I think the reason I feel like I don’t understand the purpose is because I don’t feel like I mastered the art of being patient, not that we ever do.  I don’t feel like I became polished by the experience.  It seems unfinished.  Unconquered.  Ultimately, it was like I struggled and struggled for 2 years and then all of a sudden, it was over.  I felt like, “Wait, I’m not better.  I didn’t beat the hurt, the disbelief, the waves of bitterness….”  I suppose that’s why I don’t feel like anything was “accomplished”.  I can say with quite confidence that–that’s not true.  I’m just too short-sighted to see it. 

Obviously, those years gave me an immense gratitude and respect for the gift of being a mother.  It’s not something God is obligated to give us.  It’s a privilege and I know that because I went without it and fought for it.  Just because millions of women do it effortlessly does not mean that we are entitled to that same blessing.  That’s a hard pill to swallow when you are desperately trying to get pregnant but it’s the truth and a reality that makes me humbled and grateful to have a baby sleeping down the hall.   Now I know by seeing the face of my child why I wanted one so badly.  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried that it will be hard to conceive again.  It’s such an incredible blessing that it’s hard for me to imagine doing it only once.  Either way, if she was the only child I could give birth to, my cup runneth over.

In a nutshell, basically everything I’ve just written is everything I wouldn’t have the guts to pick out for my life plan and that’s why I’m thankful for a wise and loving God who can do the best thing for me because I’m not wise enough to even know what that is half the time. I’m only good at loving myself to my determinate. 

Interestingly, I see my weakness to want to shield myself dumping over into a weakness in my parenting.  I haven’t had to shield Eden from anything yet, except for maybe the occasional chunk of food that’s too big for her to swallow, but I feel like I want to protect her from anything negative in her future.  That would be the worst thing for her and while I think I love her enough to stand beside her while she struggles instead of trying to be her perpetual superhero, it’s not an easy thought.  There have been so many things that have surprised me about myself as a parent.  There were things, like this, that I always thought parent’s were foolish for doing, saying, thinking, etc.  That was judgemental of me because now that I love her, areas I thought I would be strong in, actually show me my weakness.  Parenting is going to be way harder than I imagined and again, I come back to my original point that challenge is what shows  us our weak spots which is why they are so good.  I think we all know that which is why I wonder why so many people question God during tragedy or hard times.  What if it’s best?  

I’m so glad that I can’t control my life and that I can’t choose what seemingly bad things will happen for me.  Although, if I could, Bonkers the ‘good man’ cat would still be sitting here.  It might be a little awkward for him though when I die and he’s like 6 thousand and still sitting here.  Dang, then he’d be sad,  lonely, and mostly hungry and then we are back to me being a bad God again.  =0)

I hope one day that I can welcome the bad and count it as good in the moment.  Until then, I’ll keep buying pets cause, hey guys, they don’t live forever and I think we know why.


Postpartum: Letters for You December 17, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 4:05 am

When I am logged into my account, I can see what people googled to end up on thefirsthundred.  As far as subject matters go, I ALWAYS have two googled phrases as the 2 main ones that landed people on my page: ‘how to survive a break-up’ & ‘postpartum’.  That is why I titled this blog with the word postpartum in it so that way it will directly send people my way who are suffering through ppd.

I recently had the honor of talking personally with a woman who ended up randomly on my page when she googled ppd and found my posts on the subject.  We’ve had the chance to exchange e-mails and talk back and forth and with her permission, she said I could post one of my response letters to her.  I’m sure you all get a little sick of hearing about the issue but when it’s you or if it’s been you, all you want to do is help someone who is still in the dark part of the process.  I thought this letter of encouragement and advice could be helpful to someone else.

The letter jumps in somewhere in the beginning because I deleted certain parts of the letter that wouldn’t make sense to everyone.  When she wrote me, she was saying how she felt flat, depressed, and like a robot.  She talked to me about being depressed, her decision to try to keep breastfeeding for a while longer, the lack of support she has felt around her from people that love her but don’t understand, and about how having this baby has made her realize that she had previously based her self-worth on looks and accomplishments, both of which she feels she has lost.

This was my letter to her.  Thanks for allowing me to post it =0)


Well….I’m sorry to hear that for different reasons, people aren’t as supportive as maybe they could be.  Some of that is because some people just don’t know what to say.  As crazy and ridicously hard for me as it to believe, some people actually bring home babies and don’t cry and mold much better than others so some people really just don’t get it.  Although, you will never convince me that bringing home a baby isn’t a real challenge for all women.  
It really is the most shocking thing to your life and to your point about not feeling ‘ready’, as cliched as it sounds, I don’t think anyone can be.  Sure, some can be more than others but who in the heck is ready??????  It really does completely transform every aspect of your life and nothing is your own and nothing looks recognizable about yourself or your life for a while.   I remember that panicked feeling well.  I was crazy overwhelmed with breastfeeding.  No one could help me…I had the boobs.  My baby didn’t sleep either and actually just started sleeping through the night about 3 weeks ago and she is now 7 MONTHS OLD!  The sleep deprivation will make the sanest crazy and the constant, unending demand with no energy feels unsurvivable at times.  To me, that was some of the worst parts of it….feeling so overwhelmed but literally no one can save you and it feels like the only saving thing would be not being a mom for a while which, of course, isn’t an option. I have never felt more helpless than that period of my life which was just a sort while ago.
As a person who got through it, I can tell you that the best thing I did for myself was to stop breastfeeding.  Don’t ever feel pressured or judged by me if you choose different but it saved my tail.  I was so sad and still am from time to time that I can’t nurse but, the benefit of me being a happy healthy mother highly outweighs the benefit of breastmilk.  Furthermore, a pediatrician just told me that mothers who don’t take care of themselves and eat poorly, many times do not actually have enough dha and ara in their milk and formula can actually be better.  For ME,  that was no doubt the case.  I didn’t eat for days and was barfing.  Sounds at least like you can force feed which is at least one up on me =0)  I can tell you that I needed to get my hormones back to normal and I needed to be able to be medicated to be where I am now.  Let me also add that my sister who had ppd three times, nursed while on zoloft and my step-mom who is a nurse practicioner read the research and the amounts that are secreted are miniscule, although, I know that still can be too much in many moms minds and I get that too.  Her kids are beautiful, healhty, and smart. I was put on anti-dep. AND xanax.  xanax is a def no, no for nursing so I didn’t have a choice but I was glad I didn’t because I needed someone else to be strong and make that choice for me.
 My only word of caution is, that while you are being very cautious and waiting the 6 weeks, in ppd time that sounds like 15 years!  But if it’s working for you then that’s wonderful =0).  I just wanted to tell you that stopping is what aiding in changing me much quicker and I would offer that advice to anyone in my shoes.  A prominent doctor in a neighborhing big city to my hometown said that he has moms who breastfeed while medicated and those who stop breastfeeding and are medicated.  He said there is a huge difference between those who take the meds but quit nursing.  He said the moms that continue to nurse seem to have much less improvement and platuea.  Two things about what he’s said, first, obviously he is allowing the medication and nursing to occur at the same time and, two, it really speaks to how much nursing effects the hormone levels.  My obgyn said ‘they are at crazy levels when you breastfeed’.  All hormones aside, it  gives you your life back in a lot of ways which is something I know you are looking for.  And for as how expensive it is, it does stink when breastfeeding is free but like everything, you have to weigh the benefits against the risk.  And, you can get formula in bulk at big suppliers like cosco and sam’s club and it’s not so bad.  Okay…that’s my speech. Winking smile
Moving on…..
As for how you’ve been defining yourself (accomplishments, looks, etc.), I have some things to say on a spiritual level.  I don’t know if you are a christian or not but I am so this is how I believe and look at life.  This is either gonna be something you agree with, don’t want to hear because you ‘hate religion’, or something you’ve never thought of before BUT either way….here it is Smile
I strongly believe that we all struggle to not define ourselves in those ways (looks, accomplishments, etc.).  Soceity embraces that fondation but it’s a rocky one.  We get old and saggy even if we don’t have babies.  We retire or stay working but have our ups and downs because that’s just life.   Anytime we base of idenity in things that are shifing, we are destined to end up in this position because it’s going to fail us….eventually,  if not over and over repeatedly.  
I believe God brings about times such as these in our lives for 2 reasons:  to remind us where our fondation should be and to bring us back to Him by showing us our need for him OR drawing us to Him in the first place by realizing that we need Him and aren’t fulfilled by the empty things in life.
Personally, I would never choose ppd for myself to bring about change.  Who would?  But I can tell you that it ironcially did wonders for my marriage.   It reaffirms to me that I’m never forsaken and that He makes good on His promises to be faithful to us when we are faithless.   It was the worst, best thing.
So, I don’t know what category you fall in–in regards to the possible purposes in your life but from an objective viewpoint of someone who isn’t in your shoes but use to be, it sounds like that on the other side of this, there can be a lot of things weeded out of your life that need to be: vanity, focus of self-worth based on accomplishments.  Trust me, we all have felt that way so I do understand but what a life of freedom to not have to be concerned for how your body is changing or what you’ve gotten done in a day.   There is so much more richness to be felt in the liberation from those things. 
Right now, I know none of what I said really matters because you are feeling like a hamster.  Speaking of hamsters, did you read my blog “How to Survive I Newborn Like I Sort-of Did” ?  Hamsters were one of my themes! 
Anyways, I think you need to remember that you are depressed.  Funny, you can’t seem to forget you are, right?   What we forget though in those moments is that how everything seems and feels to us, is not an objective reality.  What seems so logical to you now, what seems so hopeless, what seems un-repairable, in reality….isn’t.  Depression keeps you from seeing that right now.   You aren’t thinking like normal you.  You are thinking and convinced this ‘other’ you is right and I hate to tell you ‘other you’ but you’re lying to the original woman.  There is so much joy to be found.  You will find this joy.  Dare I say you will probably have another child!  I think what you will find is everything about the old normal pales in comparison to your new normal you’ll have.  I wouldn’t go back to the life that was controlled and predictable for all the money in the world.  I think a key in moving forward is figuring out what works for you now and letting go of what use to be.  As long as you are in love with the past, you’ll never love your future.   What is fun to you now?  For example, I found a new love for Starbucks.  A treat to me is throwing her in the car and driving aimlessly around with a starbucks drink.  Getting stuff done now is cooking dinner AND folding one batch of laundry.  You can redefine what makes a good day to you now but just be careful to not set up more idols in your life to worship things that will fail you again because our lives can’t revolve around how much we get done around the house.  What an accomplishment though to have a child well cared for?  Maybe you flubbed at work today.  Maybe your belly is plunging forward over your jeans a little extra this morning BUT do you know what you did today?  You helped a little baby be happy and content.  You fed him in the face of depression and being exhausted.  Does it seems meaningless?  Far from.  It’s exactly what you are supposed to do and you did it well.  Babies all over the world are neglected and un-nutured and the eye contact, kisses, and full bellies you give him  now, are truly making him into a healthy young child and one day, an adult.  We know that’s true because babies who don’t get those things, are emotionally handicapped for life.  SO, what you are doing has infinite worth.  Maybe you aren’t thrilled about it now but you are doing the same things un-depressed moms are doing but in the face of depression.  That’s a big deal!  
In a day not too long, your bad days are going to get fewer and your better days will build and build.  So my advice is both practical and spiritual.  My encouragement is relational. I remember desperately getting on facebook to read encouraging letters from people at the end of the day.  I needed the support so desperately.  I’m sure you read these letters the same way.  I hope you’ve been encouraged today and that today is a good day or, at least, a better one.  Thinking of you (and that beautiful baby), Rebecca Winking smile

*To anyone who is searching for something to read on this issue, please read my other posts that chronicle my time through and out of pdd.  You can find these posts by clicking on the tag words related to ppd in the bottom right column of my blog page.  And as always, feel free to e-mail me at


December 14, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 7:22 pm

SO FAR the standings are as follows….

1st Place- Team Booyah in Yo Face Sore Losers aka Katie 87%

Tie for 2nd-  Robina  & Aud bo Bod aka Audrey 74%

Tie for 3rd- Carmen & Kristie with 68%

I really wish someone would tie “Team Booyah in yo face sore losers’, so we can at least see some buffalo fighting.


Blog Battlestar Gallactica Challenger Quiz For A Starbucks Gift Card December 13, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 4:02 am


Below is the link to the quiz to unlock the chambers of your knowledge.  LISTEN CAREFULLY.

This will be the honor system.


2-When you are done with all 31 questions, there will be a stupid one following the last question at the bottom of the quiz that the site puts on there about Glee or something dumb.  Don’t answer that question below number 31 because it will lead you an ad and I don’t want you to miss getting your scores which are only temporarily available.

Just click ‘SUBMIT MY ANSWER’. For some reason it says answer in the singular even though you provided 31 answers.  It’s the right button.  Don’t be confused.  You will not get your scores unless you click ‘submit my answer’.

3.  Once you have submitted your answer, it will give your score.  Please come back to this post and post the percentage score it gave you as a comment so everyone can see how you did.  This will be our makeshift leader board.  I would love it if you came up with some sort of team name.  A proper response would look like this…..

Team Unicorn Fantasy aka Kathy Scored a 65% . Include part of your real name or city so we can know who unicorn fantasy is deep down.

If for some reason you don’t want to post your score, you can email it to me at:

…but terrible scores are both funny and thus, encouraged.

4- After you’ve submitted your answers and received your score, you can click a button at the top that says ‘review questions’ or something like that.  You can then go through question by question and it will show you which you questions you or others are getting right or wrong by displaying percentages by the answers, red for wrong, green for right.

5-  Don’t share answers just like good ole’ fashioned school.

6.-  Even though the quiz will be up for a week, only take the quiz ONCE.  It may let you more than once but only your first score will count.

7.- Think carefully about the questions.  Some may be subtly trickstering.

8.- If there is a tie for top score, I will do some sort of tie breaker.  Something where you battle to the death like buffalo fighting and one of you will be the buffalo.  Seriously, I’ll declare a winner somehow.

If you have trouble viewing the quiz, let me know and me and my no computer skills will try to help.


May someone be sipping delightfully soon.  Bought the card today so it’s ready and waiting.  Go get em’, tiger.


Put on Your Thinking Caps December 8, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 6:56 am

Next week will be a landmark week for thefirsthundred. I am going to post a quiz of stuff you’ve read around my place and the winner will be crowned with a gift card. Starbucks is this week’s gift of choice because I’m there at least weekly to devour it’s liquidy goodness. Of course you’ll have to provide me your address via a private message so don’t play if you don’t want to be a winner. Unless you are just being a bragger and then I will take take the next highest scoring person who is willing to give me their address.

I’m going to occasionally start some give-a-way type things. If I start churning out bucks for my blog, then I’ll do it more often. This prize is a 10 dollar gift card. That’s right, 3 ish drinks. It would be more if being a stay-at-home paid more. Right now I’m making mmmm about 0 dollars an hour so a ten dollar gift card is like a million percent inflation. Give thanks. I will post a leader board so you will know if you are in the running for the most valuable gift card of all times. In my dreams, the leader board will show on the quiz page in the post but let’s not get too fancy and ahead of ourselves. Put on your thinking caps and your winniest pair of undies. Be prepared to dominate each other in a total blog battle!!!!!!!!! The blog battle star gallatica will go up on Monday and it will be able to be taken (one time each) for the whole week and I’ll announce the winner the following Monday. If you thought it was getting a little jazzy around here, you’d be right.


December 7, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 8:58 am

Vagina Chronicles December 6, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 7:30 pm

Chapter 5:

It’s time for the latest installment of the Vaginal Times. This news is so hot off the press almost no one knows about it. The suspense is killing you.

I finally heard back from the doc about what to do with this predicament of anatomy I obtain. She said she called Vanderbuilt and no one could help me there and that she had ‘no luck’. No luck at Vandy? I must be severely handicapped.

BUT she didn’t leave my empty pant-ed. She recommended a doctor here who has seen 4 girls like me in his 30 year career and treated them all successfully…with surgery!!!!!!!!

Rah rah shish boom bah. Razzamatazz. Throw the candy! Catch a peppermint and stick it in your pants for later. Yaaayyyyyyy!

I said, “Whoa sister friend. I’m afraid to have another surgery since the last one didn’t work. Not really interested in being a big ball of scar tissue.”

SO we decided to get two opinions. Me and the doctor that is, not me and, well, you know…..

Like a jiffy snazzmatazz, I got an appointment this week out-of-town at a specialist. Unfortunately, the doctor is a dude. I’ve never really been into dude obgyns. I don’t get it but, hey, hey, maybe they like to see the miracle of life. Mind your own business, Rebecca.

I’m really lucky I got in this quick because if both opinions lead to surgery, I want this done as soon as possible because the recovery time is 6 week minimum. I’ve got this girl together so I can hurry up and have another baby and do this allllllll over again!

I just wish someone could wave their magical reproductive magic 8 ball above my head and give me the answer.

I would say, “Will this surgery work?”

It would say, “Answer unknown. Ask again later.”

Then I’d take the ball and smash it on the ground and say, “What are good for you lousy ball?” Then I’d scream and cry and run circles around the Christmas tree over and over until the presents catch my eye and then I feel happy again and sit down beside them. Christmas fixes everything.

I guess we all know what this means. Chapter 6 is coming soon.

How many cuts can a gina cut, cut if gina could cut ginas? Oh, I’m gonna find out.


Why, Thank you! November 30, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 7:30 am

In what sick and twisted school of backwards etiquette did we learn to receive compliments?  Dudes don’t compliment each other on the regular but we women, when we are secure enough in ourselves to do so, like to hand out the kind words of verbal affirmation for a good hair day or stylin’ outfit.   This is how it goes:

Secure Woman 1:  That is a really awesome haircut!

Me and You: (look of surprise)   Oh, thanks. It’s really dirty right now. (or)  I didn’t really fix it today. (or) I liked it better the last time they cut it but thanks.

Another Secure Woman on  a day of compliments:  You did really good performing up there today!

Me and You:  Really?  Oh my gosh, I thought I did bad.  Did you hear some of those notes I hit? (or) How I stumbled over my words? (or) Butchered those killer moves?

Okay you get the picture…..

What’s happening is that when we get complimented we A: explain it away or give some sort of disclaimer or B:  Make a face of humble disagreeance and say, “Well, thanks…” like we are some fake poser of Bashful from the 7 dwarfs.  

Why do we do this?  I think there are several reasons.  Maybe because we are afraid of seeming overconfident or conceited by just saying a confident and grateful, “Thank you!”  We women like to compliment each other as long as our pride doesn’t lead us to believe you feel too good about yourself.  If you don’t respond the way we want, with too much confidence and not enough gratitude for our compliment, then we might get offended. You cocky fart face.

Another reason we may do this is because we get embarrassed accepting compliments.  I don’t know who these people are but some people feel really uncomfortable being complimented like it’s awkward or something.  I love you but you’re weird.  Compliments are happy times for everyone involved.  Every one needs a little encouragement.  I don’t know what to tell you if you are this person.  Maybe you could lock yourself in a room with someone friendly and have them compliment you for hours.  Sort of the flooding technique where you have so much exposure to the source of your fear that you get over it because you get use to it and work through it.  This is an awesome idea.  You’re welcome uncomfortable compliment receiver person.

On a more serious note, what I don’t like about people, majorly including myself, not accepting compliments is because while I think we are wanting to appear humble to others, we actually appear ungrateful to the gift giver. 

Ahem, G-O-D.

When someone tells you that you are super talented, smart, beautiful, or just simply tells you “Good Job” and we explain it away with “could’ve been betters” or with our socially accepted “humble” polite disagreeance, I just can’t help but think that it’s ultimately an ungrateful slap in the face to the Creator for that gift He gave us.

The fact of the matter is you look the way you look and have the gifts you have because that is what you were meant to have.  It’s what you’ve been given.  What a shame to tell someone in so many ways that it’s not a gift or not as much of a gift today as it is other days or could be etc. 

When I sing and get complimented or when I delivered cakes I had made someone, even if maybe it wasn’t my best song or best cake, if I’m grateful to have the ability in the first place, why can’t I just simply, thankfully, and self-assuredly say, “Thank you”.  No, disclaimers.  Just, thank you.

I would never want to look at God in the face and say, “Thank you for my voice but did you just hear me?”  It’s like someone giving me a Christmas gift (which you all should) and me saying, “Oh, this silly old thing?  It’s good.  I’ve seen better.  It could be better but maybe it was the wrapping.  I’m just not feeling the giftedness in this gift today. But, hey, seriously, thank you.  I mean it.”  Everyone understands that I’m a barf head in that instance.  Same thing in reality is happening with not accepting a compliment but in a much, much worse way.

Your assignment for this week and year and okay, for forever, is to not give explanations, belittle, or explain away the blessings you’ve been given.  Just say thank you.  Then they will say, “You’re welcome” and then all the damage of that stupid backwards way of seeing this modeled as women (and men) will be reversed.  We’ll all get out alive.

And if you liked this blog and wish to tell me so,  may I be obliged to say “I saw that coming“.

Thank you.


Brains: Missing in Action November 28, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 5:05 pm

Once upon a time, I had a memory greater than a clan of African elephants. Once upon a time, I brushed my teeth multiple times per day. Now if we stay home all day, I can make it to dinner and think, “Gross and dang. I didn’t brush my teeth.” How can I forget that?

Most any day, I don’t know which day of the week it is. When I use to work, I had a calendar that I looked at–at all the times and I had to write the date over and over. Now I’m like, “Ahhhh I love Fridays. Wait, I mean Wednesdays. Wait, what?” I feel pretty stupid most of the time.

Three weeks ago I went to Eden’s Friday doctor appointment on Tuesday AND Thursday. When I showed up on Thursday, I felt real embarrassed when they called me up to the counter for the second time that week and told me I was there on the wrong day. Lucky for me, they had pity on me and took me that day anyhow.

Everytime I’m at the doctors office with her I do something stupid. They probably think I’m the most incompetent mother to ever walk their floors. 

I’m usually so tired that by the end of the Dr.’s speech I try to review it all in simple 2 year-old terms.

“So you’re telling me I have a daughter. And that daughter is sick. Okay, next part….”

I mean this is bad.

A few days ago I tried throwing her dirty diapers in the laundry basket and today I was almost out of the neighborhood when I realized that I forgot something at home all to get home and find it already in the car.

I lost my car keys about three months ago and still have no clue where they are. I lost my camera a month ago which we just found out was left at CVS.  Luckily, one of the employees claimed it as his own and took it home and was using it.  Just kidding.  That’s only half lucky.  I get it back tomorrow, buster.  I hope all the pictures of my sweet baby and me made you feel reeeeal guilty.

Unfortnately, for my comfort level I can’t find my gray yoga pants which is part of my outfit 2-40 times per week.  The most maddening part is both the keys and pants are somewhere in this house AND I STILL CAN’T FIND THEM.

Hmmmmmmm, what else?

In the past two weeks, Eden was really fussy and I tried bouncing her, giving her Tylenol, etc. when I realized that I had forgotten her 3 o’clock bottle and it was now 4 pm.  Don’t worry, I would never forget to feed her for real.  At least for more than 60 minutes.  That day we had company and my schedule was off and just like that, that’s all it took.  No more bottles for you, missy!  Blah.  I felt awful.  I actually didn’t want to tell anyone but found myself doing it anyways because I felt so guilty that I wanted people to tell me it was okay. I discovered I’m not the only mom to experience this short coming.  See???  Honesty, pays-off!  You can feel better knowing other children you know are hungry for an extended period thanks to mommy brains.

The moral of the story is this, if you need my help, you better decide how important the task is before you assign it to me.  If you ask for a 2-liter drink for your party, I may show-up with 2 gallons of milk.  If you ask me to meet you at the mall, I might be standing guard outside of Barnes and Noble for hours wondering where the heck you are.  Be afraid to entrust me with anything.  You’ve been warned!   My memory is on sabtical.

Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe that I planned weddings and headed-up a certain division of the last company I worked for.  This is NOT the BeccaBoo I use to be.  I have my days and glimmers of intelligence but for the most part, it’s just stupid for days and days.

Please make me feel better by giving me your stories of your mommy flubs or absentmindedness.  Don’t worry.  I won’t remember it by tomorrow, anyhow.  Let us all embrace each other with verbal comforting hugs and be stupid together.  Amen.


Dear God, Love Sam November 24, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 8:16 am

My youngest of my 16,000 siblings is a cute little 6 year-old man who has autism. He is a super buddy. He’s totally into dinosaurs and by totally I mean, talks about them at all times with the occasional Star Wars character thrown in.

Every night at dinner, my family says the blessing and the kids typically will volunteer to pray. Samuel had never asked to say the blessing until a few nights ago.

He said, “I wanna say the blessing.” So my mom said, “Okay”, and they all bowed their heads.

Dear God,

The dinosaur chased the alosaurus into the woods and ate him.


=0) I think God thought it was heart felt and I totally mean that. Maybe next time he will thank God for the dinosaurs. Hey, gotta start somewhere! He’s so funny =0)


Women and Whoopie November 22, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 10:02 pm
Tags: , , ,

If I had a dollar for every mom that told me that they were now asexual, then I’d have about 15 dollars. That’s a lot of cold hard sexually dysfunctioning cash. Asexuality mainly being the lack of sexual interest or desire in a total sort of way, seems to be the common theme for many moms and married ladies. For the guys, it’s opposite day. As always.

I think women tend to start feeling this way after years of marriage, not only after becoming moms, but since I’m a new mom. Let’s talk about mommy.

Getting back to the marital basics after a baby is a weird thing. For Lance, pregnant marital basics was more difficult. There was something beautiful but not so tantalizing about his daughter being in my stomach. For me, I felt really weird when we tried to be intimate after having her. Seriously, all I could think about was, “I have a daughter in the next room. She would be grossed out. Hey, maybe I’m feeling grossed out! I can’t touch her with the hands of friskies!”  It’s a weird transition.  Actually, it’s a transition I haven’t fully had to make because of being out of commission and all.  If you are a new reader and don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s only about 3 blogs or so away from being brought back up again, I’m sure.  


Ultimately, I think it comes down to several things:

1.  You’re tired.  Unfortunately, when the time comes for marriage practices, you are way too exhausted.

2.  Your hormones may be plunging down low the depths of the estrogen lake of fire.

3.  Watching toys dangle from strings on a Baby Einstein video while your baby cries with teething doesn’t start your engine.

4.  You don’t like your new permanent fanny pack of loose skin and lard around your middle.

5.  You don’t like your new body in general.

I’m dangerously on a roll here…..

6.  As I always I saved the best for last and this is a big one.  We feel so tired and a lot of times feel like we are doing it on our own.  Maybe you have a helpful husband.  Maybe you don’t.  Maybe your husband will do anything you ask him to do, you just wish you weren’t always asking.  Maybe your husband tries sincerely to help but there is still leftovers on the changing table and I don’t mean macaroni.  Then you feel mad and frustrated and say, “I’ll just do it myself!”  and you cry into a spare diaper you find on the floor.  Ahhhhh, hormones and sweet exhaustion….how you know me so well.

That was a make-believe scenario.  Sort of.  I do find poop a lot of places I normally don’t when Lance watches Eden but that’s okay.  I’ve never actually cried in diapers.  Those are much too expensive to simply absorb tears.  BUT still, we all have that feeling from time to time where we just want a break resulting in our husbands not catching any.

What dear sisters and sisters does this have to do with sex?  When you feature ovaries and uterus….EVERYTHING.  When you feature parts that make testosterone?  Probably means nothing.

I think most women lose their sexual drive because the demands of motherhood hit right on our love language which is to be loved.  We don’t feel loved when we feel short-changed because of a late meeting that left us in momma overdrive for 13 hours straight.  When our hardworking hubbies get home, even if their hard work allows mothers like me to stay home which is priceless for me/us, it’s hard to not feel a sense of isolation in your parenting role.  No matter how much you love being a mom, no matter how much you love your child, no matter how much you appreciate their work cause BELIEVE ME, I don’t want the job as bread winner….you can still feel all those things and still feel a little overworked in your own mommy right.  Can I have a lunch break, hallelujah one time!!!!!

When issues like this seep into a marriage, and they do no matter the working arrangements, it’s easy to take on the attitude of  ‘if momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody getting any sort of thing in our room that makes you happy’.  But then the problem is for real, ain’t nobody happy.  Except baby.  And maybe the occasional cat.

I have a perfect illustration of how this has proven itself true in my own marriage.  I can see Lance reading this at work, gripping his office chair for impact.    It’s okay brother Lance, ease down, ease down.

It’s actually a reverse example of how this works and it started after the delivery. 

As soon as I popped my baby out, I felt so loved and soooooooo close and emotionally intimate with Lance.  This lead me to wish that we could be close in ways that got me to the delivery room in the first place.  Not in a raunchy sort of way but more like an expression of love and togetherness over what we just shared.   Trust me, that was the last thing I expected to feel. 

Then once we got home, as I started kind of losing my way physically, emotionally, and mentally, he took such perfect care of me that, again, I wished I could’ve shown him love that way.  You wouldn’t think a lady hyped-up on PPD would even have that within a million miles of herself but, I really did.  Almost to the extent that it was like when we first married over 6 years ago.  Little did we know that just 7 months later we would get to finally share in that again.  Nope, just kidding.  Still can’t.

All giggling about my privates aside, my point here is that I wanted to be with Lance in the worst of physical and emotional situations because what was drawing me to him was his love for me.  I think it’s so different for men that it’s really hard for them to understand or rather even believe that- that is how we function.  I really and sincerely become more attracted to Lance when he washes the dishes un-asked or offers to take Eden so I can go in town or when he secretly buys me the picture frame I want at Target for 16.99 for limited time only in aisle B16. 

That kind of stuff gets me going.  Men are so visual that they really have a hard grasping that cooking dinner for the family is like the male equivalent of Victoria Secret.   SO, as life gets more demanding for the both of you, neither of you wanna cook or clean but one of you still wants to contribute to the physical area of the relationship while your wife has decided to become asexual.  And here we find the problem for many women.

The solution is a two-fold fix:  your husband meets your needs, whatever that may be, and you meet his.

This, however, is only a solution to inspire you to desire each other.  You have to still do your part to meet your spouses needs even they aren’t taking as good of care as yours as you’d like.  The only way to get back on track is not to both throw in the towel.  Someone has to be trying.  Better if you both are but when in doubt, try, try again.  When you take on the ‘ain’t nobody happy approach’, then you aren’t working as a unit which is what you are and moreover, that approach is totally selfish and apathetic to actually making changes.

Sisters of the asexual world, I hear you.  The cave women felt this way.  There is nothing new under the sun.  I guarantee that the cave lady would be like, “Where’s my Brontosaurus leg?” And when he said, “I don’t know I was rolling rocks down the hill with the guys”, then she would take two big sticks and make an ‘x’ over her body. 

It’s not always fun and it’s definitely not always desirable or an easy thing to do BUT it’s necessary for a healthy marriage and asexuality doesn’t seem to fit into the picture somehow.

I hope you and your cave man can make cave babies together through the good times, the wanted times, and the unwanted times.  It’s not easy and not something that most of us can snap our fingers back into but somehow there has to be a way even without Brontosaurus bones.  We just have to do our part to be selfless, just like we want our cave kings to be.  

PS- But for real, lasagna will go a long way for you.  Top it off with a freshly, cleaned tub and you are going to straight to Disney World!


Front of the Class November 21, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 9:08 pm

Red Rover, Red Rover we dare the state of White House, Tennessee over!!!!!!!!!!! I know this was a scary kids game but I promise if you dare to come on over, I’ll gently break my hands around your waist so you won’t get an unintended hymleic.

We have a few monkey bar rungs open if you would like to hang beside me.  Also, we have the open bars that you can do penny drops off of.  Anyone?  Was that just our highly gymnastic elementary school doing fantastic swinging by our legs and jumping off?

You may tell us answers to these 3 questions from our dear friend, Buddy the Elf.

1.  What’s your favorite color?

2.  Is there sugar in syrup?

3.  Finish the line.  The way to spread Christmas cheer is by……

You don’t really have to answer those questions but if you did, oh boy, we’d love Elf together.

For real though, you can tell us how you learned about the birds and the bees.  That sounds exciting!

Also, do you live in a white house?

And furthermore, I wish you would.


Case for Catharting November 17, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 10:17 pm

I get fan mail all the time that’s like…

Dear Beckycat,

I love how open you are.

Love, Your Biggest Fan

Since I’ve heard that from so many piles of persons, I thought I would write a piece on why we should all give our lives in gab to others. I realize not everyone is like this which is why it stands out to people when I write certain words on certain subjects involving certain anatomy. I can respect that not every one wants to air their goods BUT this is my case for why I think it’s a grand thing to do in our lives. I will utilize bullets for you starting now.

* It seems my bullets have chosen to be stars. Moving on. I think that one of the reasons we experience the things we do is to help others endure similar things. For example, if Lance’s friend years ago would’ve said, “My wife’s ppd is too personal to talk about with others…” Then when my experience happened, Lance wouldn’t have had anyone to call. When they had that conversation, Lance wasn’t anticipating that 5 years later he would remember that talk and that he would need to call them. That man’s wife ended up being a great help to me during some of the worst days. If she wasn’t open, she would’ve felt weird with a girl she didn’t know calling her from another state to talk to her about what she went through and about what I was going through. When that guy shared his story with Lance, he had no reason to because it wasn’t relevant to Lance’s life. BUT he realized there is nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s life. His openness became a life saver years and years later. I can’t wait to help someone like she did me. I don’t wish it on anyone but since it’s gonna happen anyways….might as well utilize.

*As I stated in a post many blog moons ago, all of the things I say aren’t really that bold and crazy. You are saying the same things to your friends when it’s just the two of you. Only difference is, I’m saying them to people I don’t know. It’s no more appropriate to say them in private than it is in public. The issues are the issues. The subject matter doesn’t change–just people’s comfort level. I say comfort levels are for the birds! People are people no matter how many people you share your humanity with. 

When you are open, people feel like they can relate to you. They feel like you know them and that they know you. They feel like that can trust you. Do you know why that is? Because you are showing your human-ness and EVERYONE can relate to that. We all have crappy days in our marriage. Bad days raising kids. Mishaps with our private particulars.

I think being able to make people feel so trusting and comfortable with me is what made my counseling days so successful. Give me the hardest teenager you have…If I can make them laugh and show them that we really aren’t that different, then I can help them because they will be real enough with me to start making authentic changes. Not only that but they will listen and respect what I have to say because they feel that we are coming from the same place. The human place. Honesty and openness equals the power to make yourself on level playing ground with anyone. It can be an awesome tool. Also, it’s good for buddy making.

* Being open is as free as wearing no undies. There’s a lot of freedom to having nothing to hide. It’s a wonderful thing to not be embarrassed. Lots of people don’t like airing their business because it makes them feel vulnerable. I say it makes me feel like I have no panties!!  Woo hoo!!!!!!!!!  Sweet freedom!

*  Sure it’s interesting when I run into people I don’t know and they know things about my life, as in, every thing.  I got a huge kick of out seeing random people in public after writing about my PPD.  People who maybe I haven’t even seen in years would see me and say hello in a really sympathetic voice like they were saying ‘hi’ but were really saying ‘I’m sorry you went crazy’.  For serious though, it was really sweet and just like us women creatures to be so compassionate. Still, it was so funny because it was blatant that they knew everything that was going on.  Sometimes people would just say, ‘I read your blog’.  I LOVE it though.  I don’t mind sharing my life (and to finally make a point in this star section)  if you are sharing your funny times and bad times, you pick up the blessing of having people all over laughing along with you, praying for you, or encouraging you when it stinks.

* I don’t have anymore to say.  In closing, everyone post a comment of the most detailed, private experiences that you’ve ever had that you’ve never told anyone or any pet you’ve had or even, any diary.  Just kidding. 

Or am I??????????

No one will read it.  Your life’s secrets are safe with me here on the open internet. Just don’t use the word ‘cat’ in your secret.  People love to goggle phrases with the word ‘cat’ in it.  Trust me, I know.


November 16, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 10:27 am

An article on parenting and kids that offends me. Some of the comments made, especially about the what the passengers on the plane must be thinking, make me want to vomit or punch something.  I can’t decide.  I’ll do both.

Parents Are Junkies:
If parenthood sucks, why do we love it? Because we’re addicted.
By Shankar Vedantam


Yes, I Do Think Like This All Day. November 15, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 7:35 pm

Do you ever look at yourself when your hair is plain and you have no make-up on and think, I’d be really ugly as a Pilgrim.  Especially when you put on that big white sailor collar. I’d at least hope my dress was purple. Or stripey.  If it wasn’t, I’d probably just put a cornucopia on my head and stand in the corner.

There are exceptions to every rule and there are lots of rules.  For example, grown women can’t love 16 year-old boys.  I call this the Bieber exception.

If I told you I was going to stand in a basket and ride it into the skies, you would think I was insane.  Just something to think about, hot air balloons.

If you are what you eat, then say hello to your new best friend: Mrs. Asian Pear.

If you are sitting on your couch with a shirt on but no pants and someone comes to your door and sees you sitting there through the window, I think it’s okay to sit there and smile back at them politely.  You don’t have to do a pointing motion down towards your pantless legs.  Just smile at them.  Eventually, they will walk away because they feel uncomfortable but at least it’s not because they saw your bottom.

I think from now on when someone asks me whether my child wearing pink with a bow in her hair is a girl that I’ll just look back at them and say, “What are you?”  That way they feel weird and they don’t get to be the only one asking all the questions.

I still have and wear underwear from high school.  Lucky my thighs got bigger after baby or I might still be wearing them at our 20 year reunion.  I’m going to save one pair of undies and wear it to our ten year reunion next year.  That way when people come up and say, “Oh yeah, I remember you.”  I can get real serious, pull my underwear band up and say, “But do you remember these….?”  

On the note of panties, why was I wearing panties of any level of attractiveness as a teenager?  Eden will only be allowed to wear nuetral colored, high waisted briefs to protect her from any unmodest temptation.  I will start building her collection via the free panty give-a-way from Vicki’s Secret.  Eden’s only secret is gonna be that she has big ugly underwear. 

I hate waiting in the sick room at the pediatrician’s office.  Would it be weird if I wore some sort of facial mask?  When I got in to see the doc today, she asked if Eden has been around anyone sick in the home.  I thought, “No, but vomit kid and pertusis boy out there wasn’t helping anyone.”  I think we should all sit in seperate stalls like cattle.  When you walk out, the stalls sanitize themselves.  Write that down.

I don’t like it when people say, “Why do you already have your tree up?  It’s not even Thanksgiving!!”  Yesterday I had an ephiphany.  Answer:  Because Thanksgiving is a holdiay.  Christmas is a season.   Boo-yah!   The day turkies taste as good as hot chocolate and cookies, I’ll re-evaluate.  The day the a big fat gobbler looks good hanging from a pine, then I’ll have a real good talking with myself.  The day Thanksgiving comes with a big parcel of presents, SOLD.  Pilgrims would have to say something cool though in place of Santa’s ho ho ho.  Something like corn, corn, corn!  And then laugh at the end.


November 11, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 8:34 pm

A huge round of applause for Kentucky pulling through on the front of the class with 3 new spy-readers outted! I was getting nervous that my ole’ Kentucky home was going to let me down but alas…’s homey.

And a homie.

If you think ‘front of the class’ is fun…boy do I have some goodies in store. Just call me Santa. Or Buddy the Elf. I’d like that better.

Stand-by my buddies and again, thank you Bluegrassiens.


The Other Side of Motherhood: An Ex-PostPartum Mom’s Journey from Xanax to Overjoyed November 10, 2010

I was digging through the big tub of clothes that Eden wore her first few months, trying to see if there were any pieces I could give to someone from our church. Somewhere at the bottom, I thumbed through the onesies that Eden wore over and over her first few weeks here. When I first stumbled on them, my face got hot and I felt a sensation similar to suddenly running into someone who you haven’t seen in a while…someone that it’s really awkward to see. Does that make sense? That feeling of being flushed, nervous, and uncomfortable, feeling the emotions that lead the situation to be uncomfortable in the first place….

I remember when I first bought some of those clothes. I was ecstatic for the little white one with red and hot pink strawberries. I had her wear that a lot when people came to see her. I thought when I bought that outfit that my memories of those days with her in it would be incredibly different. Seeing those clothes now triggered almost a flashback response of panic. An overwhelming sense of, in fact, how overwhelmed I was. When I told my sister about the incident, she asked me if I gave those outfits away, almost certain that I would have. I didn’t though. They are literally hard for me to look at but they were some of her first outfits and she was precious in them. Even if I was falling apart and they remind me of that, they remind me of her too and she was and still is a blessing.

I think what is so disorienting about that time is that I don’t know what feelings came from what. I can’t separate what was just normal new mom feelings and what was the postpartum. I guess in talking with other moms who didn’t go down the road I did, I know many things that are standard: anxiety, crying, sleep deprivation, and the sense of living in a fog. I just wonder sometimes when I look back, if I didn’t have PPD would I have felt many of the same things?

I’ll be totally honest with you. With a lot of guilt for a lot of months, I didn’t feel like ‘it was all worth it’. You hear moms all of the time say, “It was hard but I’d do it all over again.” Or some other passionate expression of their over powering love for their children. I loved Eden. I did. But with a lot of shame inside, I felt the truth of it all, at least initially, was that I didn’t feel like those moms. I didn’t feel like ‘I’d do it all over again’ or that ‘it was all worth it’. In those months, it probably made me feel even more depressed to know that I felt that way “but shouldn’t have”. At least according to the book of what a mom is supposed to be like from the get-go.

It was bizarre. I wanted Eden. I wanted to be her mom. I just wanted someone else to care for her and let me have her back when it was time to cuddle. I guess what I was saying is that I wanted to be Eden’s grandmother. I chuckle saying that because I think this is the first time I’m realizing what I was really desiring. I felt that way because I didn’t have the strength to cope with the shock of becoming an instant 24/7 caregiver overnight. I wanted her. I loved her because she was mine but I didn’t feel like I was tough enough to take care of her. Thankfully, that changed. And actually changed fairly quickly but when you feel like I did, time crawled. Sometimes it all but stood still.

In the beginning, it’s weird because you’ve always dreamed of the moment when the doctor hands you you’re baby and says, “Here she is, mom!”. And trust me, that moment was every ounce of what I had imagined and then some. BUT, I always watched A Baby Story on TLC and I remembered how every mom was like, “It’s instant love. Love like I’ve never felt.” Etc.

I had instant love for her, no doubt, but it was a different instant love. The kind of love that you have for someone because you have responsibility for them. Love because you labored for them and sacrificed for them. Love because they are beautiful. Love because it’s your family and you made them with your husband. There was a lot of that kind of love. What I didn’t feel though is love like I had known love. I know people always say that ‘it’s a love like they’ve never experienced’ but put that fluff to the side because that’s not what I’m talking about. Love before my child was always because of a relationship. Because I knew someone and built a relationship with them full of knowing them intimately and full of memories that made me love them. I was expecting that kind of love with Eden right away. But wait….I didn’t know her! She is a little face that’s reminiscent of family but she was a stranger. I didn’t know why she cried. She didn’t smile at me. She screamed and cried at me mostly. I couldn’t really interact with her at least in a reciprocated sense because, hey, she was only 5 minutes old.

So while I loved Eden, I didn’t know her. While I loved her, there wasn’t a bond…yet. There was a maternal bond but not bonding like I previously knew it. I think I felt troubled by that but the more I talk to other moms both PPD and non-PPD moms, I hear many singing the same tune. I don’t feel like anyone ever talks about it though. I know it really is that great for some women but it can’t be for all. We moms are supposed to be these all loving and perfectly maternal beings that pop a baby out with tears in their eyes with their baby in one hand and a tray of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies in the other hand. We are the superheros of life. Literal life. Not much room left for looking at your baby with an ownership love and connection one minute and then looking across the living room the next minute thinking, “Who is that strange baby laying on the couch? Call the police! Someone left their baby at my house!!!” No one ever says that on a Baby Story. TLC should’ve had me on there. It would’ve been their most memorable episode. You could’ve been a star, TLC.

I’m telling you, both a Baby Story and Bringing Home Baby are as toxic to your expectations as Cinderella and Prince Charming to little girls learning about what to expect with a man.  No one even cries on that show except for the babies.  Give me a break.

In a non-TLC reality, I remember getting a letter from a mom who said, “It’s okay if you aren’t crazy about Mrs. E right now.” Funny, I hadn’t said I wasn’t. Again, I was but in that grandmother sort of way. I was crazy but a little crazy in the wrong the direction. I felt a bond and constant maternal desire to care for her and hold her to me but that drive mixed with anxiety and sleep deprivation was a lethal cocktail exploding in a mess of tears, panic attacks, and not knowing if it all felt worth it. It was nice to hear a normal mother of two on the other side of motherhood telling me that I was allowed to not be dancing around the crib singing praises of infants and my new parenting lifestyle.

Fast forward to a few months after that letter.

I remember when she laughed at me for the first time when she was 15 weeks old. I was holding her over my head while Lance took a picture and she giggled and my heart swelled ten times. There was healing to me in that laughter. I had been out of the fog for a while and enjoying motherhood but even after the weeks of her smiling at me, there was something extra about that laugh that really humanized her to me. I didn’t realize how much I craved that from her until she looked at me and laughed. I was desperate to hear it again because it was thrilling and THAT is what made the bond start to take off. Yes, smiling was such a reward but to have this little girl with a sense of humor that responded to things that really are only funny to a baby….it was amazing.

I can now say it was really all worth it.  The crying.  The laughing.  The screaming baths.  The pills.  The breastpumping sessions for 1/2 an ounce.  The doctors visits.  The pajamas I wore for 2 days with baby poop on them.   

I feel fearful to say I’d do it all over because just the thought of living through that experience again makes my heart beat rapidly as I type it. Still, I guess I would because I really look forward to another baby down the road and this time, I’ll have a toddler, too. Now I’m really getting cocky!

Ultimately,  what I would relive doesn’t matter because God doesn’t measure our love for our children or our devotion to them by what awful things we are willing to endure for them at our expense. Although I would endure a great many and awful things, I  no longer feel guilty that I’m not the first one to raise my hand and say, “I’ll do PPD again because I love my kid thhhhhhaaaaatttt much!”  Beat that mother’s of the world!!!!  (insert eye roll)

I love Eden. I truly, truly love her. I love her now in both ways: Because she’s mine and made of me and Lance AND because I know her. I know what makes her laugh and I’m one of the few people who can. I know which blanket she wants and what to do with her Zebra to make her smile. I know when I hear a certain sigh that she’s asleep in her car seat. I don’t even have to look.

When I see her trying to sleep in the car and the sun is shining on her squinted shut-eyes, I know I love her when I switch lanes to move the shade across her face.

I know I love her when I look for a tooth every day for weeks and then I find one and my cheeks hurt with a big smile and then my heart sort of breaks because she’s getting bigger. I know I love her because every day that passes, is one I wish I could have back. And those aren’t things that happen right when they hand you your precious wrinkly newborn and lay her on your chest. Some love is instant and some, takes time.

I may never know what it’s like to bring home a baby and experience as the “normal” version of me. I might always ask which of the things I experienced would I still have felt if I hadn’t had postpartum. But I suppose I’m no less the mother and a mother I wanted to be no matter how I got there. Maybe next time I’ll call TLC and see if they want to an 8-episode series on me called “Crazy In Love”. Pun Intended. Now THAT’S a reality show!

One of my favorite quotes is, “There are two roads in life. One is hard, and one is easy and the only reward of the easy road was that it was simple.”

I may have unwillingly taken the country back roads on a rickety old moped wearing ripped sweats pants and a cracked helmet following an incorrect map from goggle maps but, hey, I got there!  And the reward at the end was multiplied. I worked for the love that now is the clichéd love of my life………..all daddies aside.

Traumatic strawberry onesies and all, I’m so glad I made it. There is nothing…nothing as sweet as motherhood.  And in true TLC fashion, I’ve never lived or loved like this.

The laugh.


To The Front of the Class November 8, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 9:33 pm

1,2,3,4 get Kentucky on the floor. Gotta, gotta get up to get down. Gotta, gotta get up to get down.

After a heartbreaking no show in the last classroom, I can’t take any risks of more disappointment. Therefore, I am calling a whole sack of students to the front. I’m calling people from my beloved state of Kentucky who have never commented on my page to grab a brother or sister by the hand and come on down to blog town.

For example, I sure have seen a Nebo, Ky. on here and I sure have no idea where that is or who you are, my beloved.

So…calling all non-commenting Kentuckians to the forefront.  As always, please tell us how you came to these know this part of town.  How did you find this holler?  I bet some northerners may not know of hollers.

Other things you may want to say….

You may tell me what you want for Christmas.
You may tell me how you learned Santa was not real.
You may tell me if you’ve ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon.

Just please don’t leave us all standing like puppy dogs at the window waiting for our friend to show-up. That’s not the Christmas spirit and oh yes, it’s Christmas spirit time.

(intimidating, scary voice) We’ll be watching for you….


American Express(ions) November 7, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 9:43 pm

I found a lot of these a lot of places but mainly from and then from a book cited below.  There could possibly be some expressions you haven’t heard before that were possibly slipped in by possible people who are possibly-er-ree.

“Close but no cigar.”

It’s believed that this phrase originated from the mid-20th century where fairs gave out cigars as prizes for winning a game. 

“Make no bones about it…”

In 15th century England, if someone wanted to express their dissatisfaction with something, they didn’t ‘make bones about it’, they used the original form of the phrase and ‘found bones in it’. This is a reference to the unwelcome discovery of bones in soup….bones = bad, no bones = good. If you found ‘no bones’ in your meal you were able to swallow it without any difficulty or objection.                                                                                           

(So if something is good or certain, you ‘make no bones about it’.)

“Stick your head between your legs”

This comes from when I’m sure Lance has broken wind and he refuses to believe he did.  I get so mad because I’m so sure that I’m right that ragefully and seriously challenge him to stick his head between his legs if he’s so sure he’s right.  This settles the dispute.

“Tie the knot.”

There is a suggestion that this expression derives from the nets of knotted string which supported beds prior to the introduction of metal-sprung bedframes. The theory goes that, in order to make a marriage bed, you needed to ‘tie the knot’. 

(And we all thought this came from a sweet place…..)

“Rattlesnake Boots”

In apprx. 2005, I asked Lance what he wanted for his birthday and he arbitrarily replied, “rattlesnake boots”.  So from that moment on, every time he’s asked what he wants for any occasion, it’s usually rattlesnake boots.

“Honky Dori”/”Hunky Dori”

Everything is a-ok. It’s all good. Originated by post WW II US Sailors on liberty in Yokosuka, Japan. The strip right outside the main gate to the US Naval Base was called (and still is) Honcho Dori (means book district street in Japanese). Times were wild and there was no better sailor port in the world at the time. This was changed to Honky Dory by the sailors and it came to mean if you came from Honky Dory then everything had to be good or ‘honky dory’.
“Baker’s Dozen”
Dating back to the 13th century, bakers who were found to have shortchanged customers could be subject to severe punishment. To guard against the punishment of losing a hand to an axe, a baker would give 13 for the price of 12, to be certain of not being known as a cheat. Specifically, the practice of baking 13 items for an intended dozen was insurance against “short measure”, on the basis that one of the 13 could be lost, eaten, burnt, or ruined in some way, leaving the baker with the original legal dozen.
“Barking up the wrong tree”
This originates in the US from raccoon hunting where dogs will stand at the base of a tree and bark notifying the hunters of a raccoon.  Raccoons are partly nocturnal so sometimes the dogs will be barking at the wrong tree when hunting at night. 
“Pipe dream.”

Meaning unrealistic hope or fantasy, refers to the dreams of opiate smokers in the 18th and 19th century.  Basically, dreams pot heads have.

“Knock on Wood”

This comes from an ancient religion where trees were considered to be sacred spirits where the spirits either lived in or guarded trees.  So knock on wood is actually kind of like calling on a spirit to give you luck.  Trees are after all extremely lucky. Obviously.


If you ask Lance how much he liked something, even though you asked for details and not a 1-10 rating, he always say “7”.

“Fly off the handle” (The following ones are from the book The Best of Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader”)

Refers to axe heads, which, in the days before mass merchandising, were sometimes fastened poorly to their handles. If one flew off while being used, it was a dangerous situation … with unpredictable results.

“Charley Horse”

In 1640, Charles I of England expanded the London police force. The new recruits were nicknamed “Charleys.” There wasn’t enough money to provide the new police with horses so they patrolled on foot. They joked that their sore feet and legs came from riding “Charley’s horse.”


At one time, it was customary for godparents to give their godchild a silver spoon at the christening. These people were usually well-off so the spoon came to represent the child’s good fortune.


Not to be confused with “rattlesnake boots” , this refers to a hand gesture that a wife uses towards her husband in bed when he is reading an unwanted book.  The wife may say, “You know what comes out this time of night….”  And the husband gets nervous because he knows it’s rattlesnakes.  The best thing about rattlesnakes is that they never know when they are coming so they get real distracted and laugh nervously and can’t read their book for fear of rattlesnakes.  Rattlesnakes are so distracting that they have to quit reading.  Then the snakes have been successful.  To fashion a rattlesnake, make a fist and stick out your pointer finger.  Then you say,  “rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr RATTLESNAKES!”  and release the snakes by guiding your finger into their sides with your arm as the snake body and your finger as the rattler himself.  Those guys are unpredictable and feisty. They also cause arguments.

“Go Berserk”

Viking warriors were incredibly wild and ferocious in battle, probably because they ate hallucinogenic mushrooms in pre-battle ceremonies. They charged their enemies recklessly, wearing nothing more than bearskin, which in Old Norse was pronounced “berserkr” or “bear-sark.”


In the Middle Ages, people caught birds by dropping a net over a bush and clubbing the ground around it to scare the birds into flying into the net. Once a bird was caught, you could stop beating around the bush and start eating.

“You betta give me my breadwood!”

This originates from a lady on an Atlanta subway that was drug induced by some substance who felt the need to get up and challenge an elderly lady to a rap-off.  She rapped about George Bush, salad, and somewhere along the way told the sweet granny to give her-her breadwood.  I say this any time I feel.  The best part is that it has no context so it always works.  I don’t know what breadwood is, but always feel free to demand yours.  At any time.


Ding Dong the Gina’s Dead November 4, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 9:39 pm
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Just in case you read the title incorrectly, it’s not Gina (Jeen-uh) like a girl’s name. It’s a half nick name version of vagina….Gina. (nod my head in reassurance) You understand.

So let’s revisit…

Ding dong the gina’s dead, the broken crotch of the south is dead. It’s true. It use to be funny and now it’s just a big messy body part.

I went to the doctor today for the sixteenth thousandth time since giving birth. I go about every 6 weeks. I’m for reals. This is my first time back since my surgery which we’ll say…didn’t work out for me. But I did get to spend about 1,000 dollars on the surgery so at least some good came from it.

I kid….I guess. I mean, I guess I had to have it to see if it would work. Now that it didn’t, I’m like Jay-Z and on to the next one.

My doctor  is going to call another doc at a prominent surrounding area hospital to see if they can help me. She asked me just in case if I’d be willing to go out-of-state for care and I was like, “Oh brother, what kind of crotch do we have on our hands here????” Who knew that giving birth to a fleshy bowling ball could be so destructive?  You know who did?  The bowling ball and Gina herself.

She also said that she feels like this could be a long-term issue for me which concerns her because I’m such a young lassie. DANG. That made me use words in her office like I and feel and like and crying.

Now I’m wondering if we’ll be able to try to have a baby in the time frame we originally wanted to but let’s not think that far ahead. Although, we haven’t been able to stick a feather in a cap and call it macaroni for almost 7 months now. Maybe it’s not thinking too far ahead after all.

I know I’m joking around a lot.  This is for two reasons:

I’m hilarious.


You can only take vaginas so seriously…..

But I am a little disheartened about it to say the least. Initially, it was impressive to say to my friends because I felt like the crazy Guinness World Record holder for saddest vagina but now…now I’m really like, “Okay guys jokes over. You can fix the kid now.”

In my wildest fantasy dreams I get to a specialist and they say, “Why this is the silliest thing I’ve ever seen and we can fix it with something really basic” like with a pack of Skittles or something. And no I don’t mean a pack of my torti cat Skittles. I mean the taste the rainbow kind. A double rainbow even.

I’m hoping that when someone extra-learned in the arts of crotches sees it that it won’t be as complex as what it seems to be now. Furthermore, I hope we can keep the care close to home. Forthlymore, I hope this is over in approximately one more month. Lastly, I know that won’t happen. At least the fourthlymore part.

Truth be told, I’d do it all over to have my cute little baby. If I got better and had another child and knew this would happen again, I’d still bring forth more glorious children from my loins. Right now I just want to know that I have the option to do anything with my gina that I want as I should be able to do at 28. If I want to dress it up like a police man, BOOM…I can. If I want to go on walks with it, Boom, Done! The funny part is that we always go on walks. I just want it to be like the old days where we could walk innocently down the lane without a care for each other. Those were the days. The gina free days.

So, the saga continues as I get to spread joy to the world in a new city with my record holding baby maker. Becca’s Gina, coming to a city near you.  May not be suitable for kids under 13.


StoryCorps: Every Life Matters November 2, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 4:17 am

 I know a lot of my blog readers like to read me for 2 reasons: humor and honesty.  I found something that is so unique that it should appeal to all my readers because it’s just that…honest, sometimes makes you cry, sometimes makes you laugh.   It’s called  My sister showed this to me and I ADORE it.  There is this trailer that goes around the country and real people like you and me, tell our stories and they are recorded, posted, and stored in the Library of Congress from here till kingdom come so that America’s stories can be perserved.  I chose two that are sure to knock your knickers off and then back on again because that’d be inappropriate.  All these stories are recorded interviews between two people who know each other in some special way and they are super short so if you love me, you’ll watch one.  They are all 5 minutes or less.  If you watch one, then you’ll watch more.

This trailer goes all over so if you know someone with a cool story about anything, you can make a reservation and interview them yourself or have a friend of theirs do it or whatever.  You’ll get the idea.  You can check the website for all the cities they are currently in or will be visiting next. 

The two stories I chose have the copied snippet from the site above them and a few comments I added in parenthesis.  Cartoonists put their voices over animated charaters to tell the story and it’s major coolness.  I know a lot of you read my blog at work but if you won’t be able to read what pops-up on the screen or turn the volume up loud enough to hear then PLEASE wait.  It’s worth it.  Here you go.  Welcome to something else to do while on the web.

Brooklynites Danny, an OTB clerk, and Annie, a nurse, remember their life together—from their first date to Danny’s final days with terminal cancer. This remarkable couple personifies the eloquence, grace, and poetry that can be found in the voices of every day people if we take the time to listen. Originally an animation in two parts, here you’ll see a special version that combines both parts of their story.

StoryCorps » Danny & Annie.

(This is love.  Incredibly touching.)

In early 2006, 12-year-old Joshua Littman, who has Asperger’s syndrome, interviewed his mother, Sarah, at StoryCorps. Their one-of-a-kind conversation covered everything from cockroaches to Sarah’s feelings about Joshua as a son.

(This story made me smile and choke-up.  The best kind of story. I love the sweetness and innocence of this child and the honesty in which his mom interacts with him.  Precious.)

StoryCorps » Q & A.


Eden: Halloween Professional October 31, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 8:23 pm


October 27, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 8:17 am

Chilllliiiiiiiicothe…..Chillllliiiiiicotheeeeeee……Where are you?

I know you have been to these parts so I’m starting to wonder if you are living in a nearby city and you show up as Chillicothe but you really are from a different place. Please investigate. Like one time I saw a Beaverton, Ohio. Hellloooo Beaverton. That’s my favorite. Maybe you’re Beaverton Mr.Mrs. Chillicothe? Come play with us!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Lead Me To Lay Down October 25, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 10:15 pm
Tags: , , ,

I want one of those big, old maple trees in the yard. One that burns with those fiery orange leaves in the fall. No wait, a red maple. Wait, both.

I want a large deck with two levels that goes down to a large patio area. Out in the yard past the patio there’s a garden. One that I’m sure is only a good idea in theory.

The house is hardy siding without question. Maybe an interesting blue shade with chocolate, modern shudders. Or maybe a cool green with black shudders. The architecture is a mix of square and oriental funky lines with a mix of traditional. An amazing front door with character and barely any window in it, if at all.

The inside is 5 bedrooms, mostly hardwood floors. That’s a room for me and Lance, 4 kids, plus a guest room for company or maybe foster kids one day?

There is a live-in basement and also an apartment over the garage so that we can have family stay with us for long periods of time, if ever needed. Our church college kids could live there for free during the semesters or  families who are poor and displaced.  

Stainless steel appliances. Not a huge, huge house…maybe 3500 square feet or so.  That’s a good size for all those bedrooms.

I have this house in my mind. I think about it probably too much. I guess an artist dreams of the perfect image to paint and I love to decorate so I think of the perfect home to accent. I’m a homebody, sentimental type too so I want a place to make cozy and welcoming for everybody. I dream of this house and settling down there for the rest of my life. Lance pastors the church. I stay-at-home and there’s nothing left to worry about.

Oh. I forgot one other major detail. There are two cars in the garage that are nice and well-kept so there’s no stress of worrying about having to come by another one in the near future.

That’s what security seems like to me: a nice home to settle in and enough money for cars to last me a lifetime. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about provision. I wouldn’t have to trust. Or have faith. Or learn to be content. Or depend on God to take care of me.

I guess a lot of people read that and think that having those things sounds nice. It’s the American dream. I guess that’s me too, but I’m not comfortable with that being what I need and long for. Material things? Really? That’s what is going to make me feel secure and complete? I’m not saying that it’s wrong to have cars to your name or a nice home but I am saying your heart behind it can be wrong. I think all my life I’ve been trying to fix things so I don’t have the discomfort of needing to have faith and depend on the Lord, both things of which I believe are not only essential but intended for us.

There are two kinds of church go-ers. The regulars and the major holiday-ers. Holiday-ers many times have some things in common with the regulars. They know the major stories. The Noah’s Ark scene in the nursery is a familiar scene. John 3:16 written on the church wall was a verse they learned in vacation bible school years ago. Some things from the faith become something that a lot of the population is generally aware of. Those just to name a few.

What about Psalm 23? I feel like some people who aren’t practicing a faith may know this one as well. It goes like this:

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness
for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord

When you read the bible without knowing context, there is a lot to be missed. These verses never quite hit me as much until I heard someone describing a shepherd. A shepherd, leads his sheep where they should go, including to the pastures where they would eat. He directs them and cares for them.  So Jesus, the sheperd, leads us where we should go. Takes care of us.  Watches over us. 

Another element I missed is about the sheep themselves. When a sheep is full, it lies down. The verse says, “He leads me to lie down in green pastures.” Admist the perfect green around them, which would be optimal grazing, they instead lay down. Content. Full.

Now it all seems different doesn’t it? It’s very different for me. All of a sudden, the house I detailed doesn’t seem so much like a reward but a symptom of the fact that I’m always looking for somewhere else to graze. No pasture is too green.   I know my heart can change about seeking security in things that, in fact, aren’t secure. I really do desire a space that can accommodate having others and even families coming to live with us. I would love for that provision but right now, for how I long for those things right at this moment, I’m not sure having it would be a blessing or a sentence. If I were to be given all of that today, I wouldn’t know if it were a blessing from the Lord or trial He gave me to face in dealing with where my trust is. It’s true that parent’s sometimes let their kids gorge themselves on candy to show them that their desires to over indulge are actually detrimental. How much more so would God as a loving father at times, give us what we wrongly desire to show us that it was, in fact, wrong for us? I think He blesses many with gifts like what I talked about in the beginning with the big, deck and the hypothetical garden, but some of us want it because we don’t want to have to trust Him in lieu of those things.

Today…that’s me.

I want to say that he leadeth me to lie down in hardy siding homes and multi-tiered decks. I can’t tell you that I want to lay down in the face of those things as I type this tonight. Even more ashamedly, I have a nice, modest, cutely decorated home we picked out every detail for while it was being built.  And oh yeah,  two cars parked outside and some savings to buy the next one when one car dies. Embarrassingly, I even have stainless steel, hardwood, and tile baths. I’m just like the kid gorging on candy. One Snickers is nice, but then again, I could have a Butterfinger, a Reese’s cup, Peppermint Patti, and on and on and at the end of it….I’d just be sick.

My yard is a great size and my backyard is full of trees. Great big trees.  It’s my green, wonderfully provided pasture. I just want to remember how to lay in it.  Without the shade of maples.


Sweet Nothings October 24, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 9:19 pm
Tags: , , , , ,

There comes a time when you become ready for things that you weren’t ready for before. For me, that time finally came when Eden was about six months and few days old. That time being, Thursday, aka tonight.

I finally decided it was time to let Eden learn how to go to sleep by doing some “sleep training”. We chose the Ferber method which is let them cry for 5 minutes, give comfort but don’t pick them up, then 10 min, comfort, then 15, comfort, and then twenty. After twenty you start back over at 5. Tonight it took exactly 22 minutes to get that cute chunky, big-eyed baby of mine asleep. Lucky, Lance was here for support because I think there is something about a mother hearing her baby cry and not responding to her that goes against nature. Every fiber of my being wants to go in there and be with her. I love comforting her. It’s what we mothers do. I love to be needed by her. Not only needed, but wanted.

Previously, I was holding her until she fell asleep because I savor those quiet moments of the end of the day where it’s all said and done and I can relax and hold my sweet girl. No more laps around the house to make.  Bottles to be mixed. Diapers to be changed.  It’s just me and her in the stillness and calm of the end of the day.  I can hold her and look at her little fuzzy head and still be excited that God gave me a baby with a hairy head. I always thought babies with hair were so cute and I thought I had no hope because no baby on either side of our family has ever had hair. After all those years of infertility, having this sweet little baby and then having even a fuzzy head is like the hairy icing on the cake. As stupid as this will sound to everyone else involved, I think God gave me those hairs.  It’s almost like that when I look at her that God just smiled at me and said, “I remembered.” I suppose hair can only be so exciting to someone who waited for years to see that one positive test stick.

If there’s anything I’ve learned about myself so far as a parent/parenting, it’s two things:

1. I’m not as strong as I thought I would be. I thought I would be able to hear her cries and have some perspective and self-control but I constantly yearn to go care for her immediately.

2. They change so fast. Not just them, but parenting them.

One week they are laying flat, the next they are sitting. One week they smack their bottle while you feed them and the  very next week it turns into a small grip and all of a sudden they are holding the bottle themselves and they don’t ‘need’ you to feed them. It really is rapid.

But parenting changes fast too. One week you are dying because they are fighting naps and you feel like you are gonna die and then for no reason, the next week that’s over and it’s on to the next one.

If you are like me, one minute you are struggling to breastfeed and dreaming of bottles even though you love to nurse your baby. You are wishing it all away: the pain, the long feedings, wrestling your baby awake, and then for me, without warning, I go to the doctor’s office for postpartum and they tell me to quit that day. I didn’t see it coming. All of the sudden, a phase I was struggling to survive but secretly loved under the turmoil, was all over. Just like that. Holding her to me and being her sole source of provision was done. And simply, another phase gone. 

This week was no exception. After many long sleepless nights due to Eden being under the weather, I finally reached the point where I thought, “It’s time to help her to sleep through the night.”

I need it.

She needs it.

We all need it.

Even the cat might appreciate it on nights she’s inside.

So even though I knew it was coming, I didn’t know I would start today. What that means was that last night was the last night that I got to hold her as she fell asleep on me. Sure, it will happen occasionally but life with my baby as I’ve known it for the past six months of this rollercoaster is changing one little bit at a time.

It all happened after being at the doctor today and he told me how to do it and that she was ready. My sister is coming in next week so I’m sure she’d appreciate the quiet and the process takes five days which was enough time to do before she comes in so we started.   Just like that, all of a sudden, that little sweet phase I enjoyed is over for the most part.

I think it’s so hard as moms to not be looking forward to the next milestone that eases our load or one that gives us more freedom but we are quick to forget that these little times with our babies are so fleeting and you realize that each time you lose a little thing you savored about that stage. Maybe it was a sound they made that makes you laugh that they just quit doing or a way you made them laugh that you enjoyed together that they seem to not care about anymore. It’s the little sweet nothings that season your days with your child.

I’ve been so tired lately that it’s been easy to forget that she won’t always call out for me or need or want to be cuddled. Even the sleepless hard times are irretrievable and even in the difficulties of watching the hours tick away every night, there’s something precious there. There are the moments where it’s late at night and your eyes are heavy and you run to their cry and hold them to your chest. You yawn and look down and those huge sweet eyes are staring at you, hinting at the smile behind that passy. This parenting thing is hard and exhausting but I don’t know if you can find a sweeter earthly joy.

Tonight before we put Eden down to start letting her cry some, Lance and I held her and said a prayer for my strength to get through it and for Eden’s to survive and learn quickly to sleep. I took a big breath to prepare myself and I held her to me for one quick second by her crib. I wanted so badly to just hold her and watch her drift off peacefully but I knew it was time for it to be different for us both.

I felt a wave of sympathy for what she was about to experience rise up inside of me and then the rush of maternal love and compassion that followed.

I layed her down and put my hand on her chest and felt a motherly weakness and some tears begin to well up inside of me. I kissed her face. Gave her the passy and her favorite ruffled blanket that she likes to rub on her face and squeeze with her hands.  Patted her tender fuzzy head and left the room.

It was bittersweet for me albeit a good reminder that all things are fleeting and that all things must be cherished even through the exhaustion.  It’s almost like I dream of the day’s end when I’m really tired but that I’m simultaneously not wanting the time to pass because it’s one more day gone with my baby and one more day she ages.  It’s almost like I know she is growing so quickly that I miss her while I have her.  I want to see her grow, but I want to hold on to today’s baby as I know her because that’s who I’m head over heels in love with.  Parenthood is a fulfilling tug of war between trying to stand in the sweetness of the moment and trying herd your surge of excitement as it’s on to the next big event: first christmas, walking, crawling, first word….

I bet when her gummy smile goes toothy and her hair grows long that she’ll turn into the most beautiful young lady.  I know she’ll be funny and make people laugh.  She’ll be kind.  Talented.  Compassionate.  Genuine.  Sincere. 

Eden will be so many great things.  Soon enough.

I look forward to many things but for now, the thrill will be finally holding her to me in the morning and savoring that she’s still my tiny, precious baby.  At least for today.


To the Front of the Class October 21, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 3:13 pm

Where are your blogs?!  Where are they you say?  Ask Eden.  She has been sick and finding sleeping to be something she’s not interested in.  I have 3 or 4 pending but seeing as how I showed up for her six month check-up appointment on the wrong day twice this week, I probably should wait for mental sanity to finish those. 

But you know what we can always do, brothers and sisters.  Class time, players.  Class time.  I have some fun ideas churning in my mind bucket to take calling people to the front of the class to the next level so stay tuned til the next episode. 

Today we will call….

(sound the trumpets….)

Chillicothe, Ohio.

Get your fanny down here right away.  You have visited my blog a dangerous amount of times lately so it’s time you reveal yourself into the light.  I might know who you are.  I think.  We will see.  Don’t be ashamed that you visited so often.  Be proud.  Very proud.  Please tell us how you found these here’s words of mine and answer any of the following questions.

1.  If ladies with large chesticles work at Hooters, where do one legged girls work?

2.  Why does the Easter Bunny carry eggs when an Easter bunny lays real bunnies? 

3.  When’s the last time you peed your pants?  Don’t lie to me.

Everyone lets welcome CHILLICOTHE, OHIO! 

Peer pressure is so effective.  I love it.


Mountains of Mystery Cats October 17, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 9:09 pm
Tags: ,

Breaking news, a mountain lion was spotted in our hometown during the day at a local campground that’s kind of in the city.  This is a fantastic mystery!!!!  Where for art did thou lioness come?  We have no mountains for your lion-y ways.  BUT don’t leave!!!!  I find you tantalizing.

Just when you think you have nothing left to write about a lion comes to town.  I am so lucky.

So this is how it went down.  A man who works for the campground saw this large cat come out of the woods and walk into the field during the day.  Like any intelligent person would do, he jumped onto his golf cart and drove up to the beast.  He got about 25 feet away from it which allowed him to confirm that it was in fact a mountain lion.  ROOARRRRRRRRR 



I promise you that so much of that impact and humor was lost because you couldn’t hear me actually doing that.

Anyways, my favorite part about this guy is that he was quoted in the news as saying that he brought his coffee mug for defense just in case he needed to use it. 

More breaking news, he’s a mountain lion.  Starbucks ceramics can not help you. 

Breaking news, he’s not a house cat.  He is in exhibits at zoos.

Breaking news, they eat humans.  They eat entire cows for lunch.

This just in, they can run faster than golf carts.

This also in, the cup would only tick him off more causing him to be more likely to make you a half rack of ribs. 

The news that night would’ve read,

“Mountain lion eats almost a whole man and puts the leftovers in a mug for later.”

Whew…I just gave a lot of headlines off of one ridiculous quote.

This is a mountain lion/cougar/puma (All the same animal.  Fact of the day:  This mammal goes by more official names than any other in the animal kingdom). 

Here he is:

And you chose…..

I chose this image of a mug because I’m sure the images on the mug where seriously heavily considered as his second best choice for line of defense.  I would hope he would use scissors but deep inside….I know it’s paper.

Attacking a mountain lion with a mug is like spanking a dinosaur with a spatula.  Try again, buddy.  I’m just really glad you didn’t get a chance to use your cup skills.

Even better than this guy was a quick review of the message board of comments on the news article from the surrounding locals who say they have seen a cougar around their house.  Deep breath.  This is starting to sound like big foot sightings.  You did not, I repeat DID NOT see a cougar hanging out around your house.  I’ll buy one lone large kitty but not several because they aren’t really supposed to be around here.  What you are describing is a bob cat.  That, you have seen.  Those are around here and are larger cats that hunt but they ain’t no lion of the mountains.  The park dude that identified the cat said he looked to be about 100 pounds which is kind of like me with huge muscles and massive fangs and a big delicious roar….. just in case you can’t conceive a 100 pound predator cat.  Bob cats, on the average size are 15 pounds.  On the big side, 30 pounds…at least the type around here.  So these locals were almost right.  Just about 85 pounds and the face of a lion off.  You were almost right except for not at all.

A clever funny dude at the end of the message board responded to these people by saying that we ‘really need to get a hold of this meth problem in our area’.  Now this is the kind of guy I can really get behind.  If he saw a mountain lion, he would use something more effective for defense like a bazooka.


Hide your cows, hide ya kids, cause this lion be eating everyone out here!


Double Rainbow October 15, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 6:00 am

If you have not seen this video, please trust me that it’s worth it and that every minute gets better and better reaching the full explosion of joy at the end. Make sure to watch all three and half minutes as not to miss out on happiness. This is someone’s home video of seeing a double rainbow.  There is only one person that likes rainbows more than this guy and she’s a unicorn.

Join the 17 million people that learned what it is to truly love a rainbow.  Like a unicorn.


To the Front of the Class: 2 October 13, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 6:00 am

I had no patience and had to do it once more this week. Not only am I doing it…I’m going big. I’m going INTERNATIONAL.  Cha Cha Cha.

Class, may I have your attention and applause in welcoming Tegucigalpa, Francisco Morazan! Hola! I think….

You may tell us whatever you wish about yourself. As always, you can answer these questions I have provided for you just incase you are timid in introducing yourself to your fellow classmates like our buddy Fargs was.  Here you go:

1. If there were two guys, Hambone and Flippy, which would you say liked dolphins most?

2. What is the state bird or frog or animal of your country?

3. Also, I’m sure you’re roadkill is much more interesting than ours so please tell me what interesting things you see about the roads.

We like you already. Tell us anything else you want to say. I’d like to know how you came to read the blog much like my Fargo friend but peer pressure in the classroom is no joke so be free to verbalize your words of choice.

Everyone, please wait for this person by the swings because they will be here shortly. I just know it.

Welcome crazy name place! (applause and cheers.  also some laughs of delight.)


Halloween Etiquette October 11, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 6:18 am

1.  If your kids are little, this is your time to shine in the costume department.  They’re only a few short years away from being a princess like every other girl running down the alley way.  For this reason, I recommend going out of the box.  Going random.  Going funny.  You will lose your power to do so one year at a time.  Have fun before they care that you did.  You will see Eden’s example of having no power over her outfit in just a few weeks.

2.  If an older child comes to your door in their half-butted outfits, don’t say to them, “Aren’t you guys a little old for trick-or-treating?”  You are a big jerk.  I went trick-or-treating til I was 18 and I worked Halloween like a job.  Unfortunately, I heard this a handful of times from a fistful of idiots.  Here are some ways to handle this situation:

Question posed:  “Aren’t you a little old for trick-or-treating?”

–  Oh, I’m sorry I guess you would rather me go light up some doobies at a field party like everyone else my age instead of playing dress-up for candy.  Give me that Snickers.

  –  I don’t know but your mom is.

–  That’s a personal question.

Or just simply yell, “I’m not even full-grown” and run away crying loudly.  She will either feel really bad or really awkward and embarrassed as the 4 year-old butterfly watches you run away.  Either way, you win.

One time someone said to me really angrily, “I’ve been giving out candy all night like I’m a grocery store. (huff puff)!!!”

This just in…it’s Halloween.  Also, just in ….. don’t answer your door with candy in your hand and blame me.  Breaking news, you’re a moron Halloween dream smasher. 

Don’t be mean to kids.  Afterall, they know where you live now.

3.  Whatever you do, don’t pass out those orange and black wrapped disgusting candies that seem to come into children’s bags every year. Giving out that candy is like telling a little kid you hate them with sugar.  If they would only post a sign in the store by those candies that say, “You can not buy unless you’re under 70.”  Then no one would buy them and we’d be okay.

4.  The best kind of house decorations are the ones that make you think, “Is that a real person in that rocking chair or a dummy?”  This is a way to scare children in the spirit of a holiday.  It’s the only time of year you can do that legally.  Other times of the year you would get arrested.  Go big.

5.  The silliest of all the Halloween adults are the ones who leave a bowl of candy on their porch.  My favorites are the ones that leave a whole hamper full of candy with a sign that says ‘take one piece’.  Trusting kids with candy is like trusting a crack addict with 100 bucks.  You would do much better to just take your big bag of candy and pour it directly into a kid’s bag.  Why waste your time with signs and hampers?  These people are crazy.  I bet they dress real boring for Halloween, too.  Like a pumpkin.   I can see pumpkin people from a mile away.  And they can see toilet costumes from a mile away.  That’s me…the toilet coming down the road.

6.  Don’t let your kid dress-up trashy like Britney Spears, Bratz doll, etc.   Fish nets on an 11 year-old is not cute. 

Hey, I’ve got a good idea!  I’m gonna let my kid dress-up real exposing and let her run around busy streets with adults and boys I’ve never met before.  You are worse than pumpkins.

7.  Lastly, if you are passing out candy and you managed to not leave hampers, dress like a pumpkin, or give out orange and black candies please, please don’t guess children’s outfits if you don’t know what they’re.  There’s nothing sadder for a kid that’s looked forward to their costume all year and then for you to say, “Aren’t you a scary spider?!”  Then the little ladybug hangs her head and walks away.


October 8, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 7:09 pm

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN WE HAVE HEARD FROM FARGO. I REPEAT….HEARD FROM FARGO. Turns out I know who Fargo is but I didn’t know Fargo lived in Fargo because I haven’t seen Fargo in many Fargs. Fargo did an excellent job at answering questions and I encourage similar detailed and exuberant messages. Be looking for the next city! Maybe it will be yours……


Eden and I Dance: Part 2 October 7, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — thefirsthundred @ 7:51 pm
Tags: , , , ,

I am offering a new service called: How to teach your baby to dance and be cultural and supreme above all babies. I wanted this video to show my extreme versatility. I added captions so that you won’t overlook some of my different styles. You may need to watch it several times to see it all. I know you’ll want me to teach your baby the first watch though. In just one lesson, I can have your baby doing the moonwalk for one simple payment of 50.00. Eight times.

Try not to get lost in the intricate detailing. You can get overwhelmed if you take my talent as a whole.

This would be a great Christmas present.

Think it over.

PS- Make sure the captions are on.

PPS- You’ll want to watch this big screen time so click on the icon on the bottom right of the video that has 4 little arrows going in different directions.  This way you can see the said detailing and captions.  However, if it’s jerky than you should watch the regular size one. Enjoy and your welcome.