Documenting Your Pregnancy, Hollywood Style

First Demi Then Britney
And now Christina.

Naked and Pregnant. What do you make of it?

Have YOU taken naked pregnant pictures?

Here's how we documented MY pregnancy:

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

Oh, I know you want to see.

I know you're wondering how far I'll go.

Well, look out below!

TADA!!!

I Don't Know Karate, But I Do Know K-razy

What to do today? Get up, go to work at the Karate

Karate teacher charged with felony after kicking student 200 times
5:17 PM EST, November 26, 2007
SUFFOLK
A karate instructor who teaches children in Hampton and Suffolk has been charged with felony child endangerment, after one of her students accused her of kicking him in the ribs more than 200 times, causing internal injuries, police said.According to police, Bateman, a Hampton resident, had told her students at the Suffolk studio that students in Hampton had taken kicks in the abdomen, and challenged her Suffolk students to receive the same amount of kicks. The students got down in pushup position, and Bateman began kicking them in the abdomen and rib area, George said."She kicked them until they each told her to stop," George said.Two students received over 200 kicks. One of her , an 11-year-old boy, had to receive medical treatment for his injuries, which likely include a fractured rib, George said.The incident occurred on Nov. 7, but wasn't reported until Nov. 14, when one of the students told his parents because he needed medical treatment.

Dadaism

Mimi said her first word tonight. I think it's all those art books we've been reading. She said, "Dada."

Clearly she was referring to the art movement.

Dada or Dadaism is a cultural movement that began in neutral Zürich, Switzerland, during World War I and peaked from 1916 to 1920. The movement primarily involved visual arts, literature (poetry, art manifestoes, art theory), theatre, and graphic design, and concentrated its anti war politic through a rejection of the prevailing standards in art through anti-art cultural works. Dada activities included public gatherings, demonstrations, and publication of art/literary journals.

Russian Iron Woman

Let's face it, I've got some extra.

Dx and I have been trying to join a gym for the last six months. There is much to be gained by joining a gym, but there are plenty of reasons not to join.

Reasons to Join:

1) The Babysitting

2) You're paying, so maybe you'll actually go.

3) Something to do other than shopping.

4) Might lose weight/get in shape.

5) It's right down the street.

6) Feels grown up.

7) Hilarious stripping classes.

Reasons NOT to Join:

1) I'm not a joiner.

2) C'mon, I'm not Actually going to go.

3) I live on the Iron Horse Trail.

4) They ream you with initiation fees, contracts, etc.

5) Stinky other workouty people.

6) I'm cheap.

7) I only plan to exercise for about a month, then if it don't work, I quit.

8) Plan to get preg. sometime in next 3 years, see #4.

9) I hate working out.

10) I've never actually worked out consistently.

11) They cancelled the strip class and I accidentally swore profanities at the membership people.

12) Other people's kids in the Babysitting. Bad babysitting, unless at Clubsport (which is $150+ a month, no thank you)

13) If you pay and then don't go, you are technically paying a fat tax.

14) I could just buy new jeans. Paige informed me: Just cause they button don't mean they fit)

7 yes reasons, 14 no's. I'm not joining.

How, oh how shall I lose my extra 10? Yes, I'm a spoiled whiner who only has 10/15 to lose, but my jean collection is probably worth more than yours and I'm fitting into them if it kills me.

And it might.

Enter the Kettlebells.

The wha wha? The Kettlebells.

Kettlebells are a centuries old Russian exercise weight. You swing them around and crouch and bend and stuff. It's like the new Pilates, without the fancy medieval torture rack that they won't let you just get on and play with because you have to be taught by certified Pilates instructors.

Only two items involved: A 10lb weight and your dignity.

Here is the verdict:

It's really kind of fun.

There is an element of danger. (What if I drop this on my head foot or child?)

It comes with a DVD instruction.

I can hardly do some of the exercises and they're completely different than any other exercisy weight things I've attempted.

My booty HURTS. Like the back upper thigh part of my booty and my general core. After playing with the Kettlebell for about 10 minutes, I almost fell down and felt like jello. That usually takes me twenty mins (alright 10, at full sprint) on the elliptical.

What else have you done that actually works your booty like that?

They sell them at Target. Buy a low weight. I can't even do some of the exercises because I'm such a weakling. Do not perform exercises on a slick surface, as Kettlebell may kill you.

My Guitar Hero

My husband took up a new hobby this week: Jamming. When Dx says he's going to do something, look out because he is actually going to do that thing. Earlier this week he said, "I'm going to learn to play the guitar" and yesterday he serenaded me with 'Louie Louie.' Now Dx plays the guitar. He's cool like that.

Please note the guitar shirt he wore while purchasing said guitar. I asked him if the super nerd guitar guys noticed, he said they didn't mention it.

Dx also plays the drums. He is also a talented singer. He could be a one man band.

Mimi is his biggest fan. She parties naked.

Cancelling Christmas?

Mimi's First Thanksgiving.
The Family Who Attempted to Cancel Christmas. Notice how plates are empty. Excellent dinner, contributors.

Word on the street is the Greenbaums are cancelling Christmas. Something about service and how Paige doesn't want any more gifts. We didn't even mention drawing names on Thanksgiving.

That's all well and good, but this is the first Christmas I've been near my family in three years. We're buying people presents, dammit.

Here is a list of people for whom we have already bought presents:

The A Family.

The W Family.

The G Family.

Val.

Cam.

This list will be updated as presents are bought.

We Were Robbed

Stupid Gap Casting Call.

Under your (my reader's) instruction, I submitted Mimi. She didn't even make the finals. Now there are a bunch of crappy other kids in the running to be a Gap model.

Those Gap people. Don't know a good thing when they see one. Clearly they must be racists. I hope all of their stupid kid models throw up on their ugly clothes and then poop through them.

From this day forward until at least next week, I am boycotting stupid Gap.

Dare they deny this face?

Not Invited To The Party

I was not invited to the blog party at Celia's today.
Even though I helped choreograph 'Guys and Dolls' the kids forgot to thank me.
My husband left me in the cold waiting for him to pick me up for over an hour and never returned my calls.

Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I guess I'll go eat this for dinner:
This is my attempt at crotch pot cooking. It was supposed to be a brisket.

Thank you to Paige who watched Mimi today at said blog party. Had I known it was a blog party, I would have rearranged my schedule. But I was not invited.

Why, Yes! They ARE Twins.

Mimi has a best friend (second to Alice, of course, but she doesn't count because they're cousins and family cannot be best friends.)

This is Izzy. Isabella belongs to Becky and Glen, our church buds. Izzy is 1.5 months younger than Mimi, but she is advanced. Izzy can clap and stand and crawl. They started crawling last week or so, and now they're little terrors.

Sometimes Izzy comes over and sleeps in Mimi's bed. It doesn't last very long.

When we go out together, people ask if our babies are twins. I tell them yes. Becky has a convenient double stroller, so we just slip them in there. It's the best way to have multiple babies: multiple parents!

Izzy has a little bit of the Asian Persuasian about her from her dad Glen.

Here are my twin girls in coordinating outfits, doing some standing.
And here they are at the park. Yes, they wear matching head pieces. Let me know if you want some flowers for your baby girl. The don't fall off. Lastly, here is Mimi practicing a rite of passage. Everybody should get a baby girl. Too bad for those of you who don't have one.

By Any Other Name

When Ellie and I were little, our Uncle Jay would frequently send presents addressed to "Eleanor" thinking that we were the same person (or perhaps he was just thrifty). We would fight over the present and I would always win, because I am younger and clearly more clever. But Ellie got the better name out of the two of us. Her real name is Giselle, like the ballet. I named my baby after Giselle, (my husband thinks it's after the supermodel Gisele.) The new animated movie 'Enchanted' stars a princess named Giselle, so I guess that name is going to join the ranks of beautiful Princesses.

I have an old lady's name. It's true. Ever met anyone under 70 named Lenore? I didn't think so.

I lie and tell people that I was named after Edgar Allen Poe's 'The Raven' but in reality, I was named after the babysitter. Apparently my parents ran into her in the hospital when I was born. The original Lenore never used her real name but instead went by "Suzy" for no reason whatsoever.

When I learned Dx's last name, I knew immediately that I should consider him for a husband. Dx's last name is Crave.n. Perfect match!

People screw my name up all the time. They call me Leona (as in Helmsly) or Eleanor (as in Roosevelt). There is little more annoying than somebody getting your name wrong. You just want to smack them. I'll never understand why people use anything other than standardized spellings for their children's names. It's like giving a little gift of a hassle.

It's not that it's a particularly hard name, just an unusual one. The spelling is phonetic, but they always mess it up when calling from credit companies (never happens!) or when my order is done at In N' Out (never been there!) For the last five years, I've told the people at Jamba Juice that my name is Val. It's easier and I can always remember to grab my Orange Dream Machine.

Growing up, my sisters called me Lenorie, Baby Lenoo, Norie, Nor, Norface, and Normal. When called "Normal" I used to run and tell on them because I thought they were teasing me. I'd tell them over and over, "I'm NOT NORMAL!" and then cry.

When I got to college I gave up on Lenore, mostly so people in crowded spaces could hear and understand me. In college, most socializing occurs in loud crowded spaces with semi-intoxicated people. My friends called me Nor. When Norah Jones became popular, I started using her name, because at least people could understand and recognize Nora.

Moving back to the Bay, I've had a lot of Nor resistance. I dislike introducing myself as a nickname, so when people read my name from church roles I'm back with the Leonora thing again. Do I correct them? Do I just let them figure out that I'm most commonly called Nor? Or am I most commonly called something else? I think my family refers to me as Lenore, but to my face they call me Nor or Nori, most of the time. My husband calls me Nor to friends and then Lenore to business people, unless they're Asian (then he calls me Nori -- like the seaweed).

Over the years, I've also had some atrocious nicknames of my nickname. Favorites are LeBore, LeWhore (rough high school years), LeSnore (thank you, Smellie), Lenny (like the big dumb guy in 'Of Mice and Men') and Hardcore Nor (when I wore a lot of black in LA).

So, which name should I use? Do I go back to Lenore, or try to force the Nor? Nor sounds annoyingly exotic, like Queen Noor in Persia, but Lenore feels like such a clunker. Or shall I just change my name to Trixie LaRue?

Have you ever had amusing nicknames? How did you get your name? Does your name bug you sometimes?