Posts Tagged ‘ celebrity gossip ’

The Art of Distraction

Tuesday, January 15th, 2013

To distract myself from quite possibly a very premature countdown to baby girl #2, I like to dabble in the goings on of celebrity-ville.

For heaven’s sake it’s hard to ignore the people a lot love to hate when there’s just so much business to report from show business.

It’s awards season with lovable new moms and baby bumps to applaud, Destiny’s Child reunited (Bootylicious is my pregnancy anthem), JT released a new song (please let it be the #1 single on the day when baby girl makes her appearance), controversial baby Kimye is keeping the tabloids in business, and the royals confirmed their due date and the theory that those shorter, darker months of September-December make for good baby makin’.

Dang 2013, go on brush you’re shoulders off. You’re off to an impeccable pop culture start. The sixteen-year-old in me and the pregnant lady looking for a distraction thanks you.

I’ll admit I felt a dorky superfan camaraderie with the pregnant ladies and new moms at the Golden Globes on Sunday. I love families and their love for their families made me feel like, “Stars, they’re just like us!” Heck, Ben Affleck’s open loving for his wife and children brought the waterworks. Class act sir.

Shout out to Kristen Bell for her good form dressing that baby bump. If the 17 picture texts I sent to my sisters and best friend when trying to figure out an outfit for a simple work holiday party while pregnant is any indication, I’m sure it was stressful deciding which pregnant look to channel at THE GOLDEN GLOBES. It’s a tough call when temptations like belly painting abound or throwing fashion caution to the wind with some baby midriff. You done good kid. Beautiful.

Super shout out to Adele, you talented new mom lady you. I totally applauded the mums’ night out and read between the lines at the “pissing yourself laughing.” Tina Fey and Amy Poehler were hilarious hosts and no match for the weakened pee muscles of a new mom. It’s worth it. I would have peed my gazillion dollar designer dress too. What are the kids saying these days? Yolo Adele. Yolo.

And of course the royal baby. It’s fantastic news that the Duchess is feeling better and super news that the world can go on official royal baby watch for July. Let her classy maternity style fill up Pinterest boards everywhere and everyone give a collective “ahhh” that a July due date means the baby could be born on Princess Diana’s birthday.

It’s such an exciting year to be a newborn babe. There’s good celebrity company and plenty of future factoids to supply VH1′s best year ever.

It’s like the celebrity gods parted the clouds and said, “Bekka, having a baby in the monumental celeb baby year of 2013 is your reward for having an uncanny capacity and brain space for all this frivolous, yet fun nonsense.”

Image: Kate Middleton via Mr Pics/

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Forget the Mom Jeans, Let’s Talk Mom Hair

Thursday, December 27th, 2012

33 weeks/7 months

It’s a trend that’s stuck around longer than pogs, scrunchies, patterned pants, or Justin Bieber’s pre-pubescent innocence. It’s stood the test of time through each decade.

It’s the mom-cut.

Does the very word make visions of Kate Gosselin’s reserve mullet immediately dance in your head? McGruff and his crime fighting nephew Scruff need to take a bite out of the crime that is the mullet. Reverse or traditional.

The mom-cut, despite its negative connotation ain’t all a bad thing. It can go really right or really wrong in my book.

When I’m feeling particularly deep thoughts, my soul wrastles with the question: what is it about having a baby that makes many a mom shed her locks?

I’ve done it. My sister just did it. And my sister-in-law is about to do it. The shedding of motherly hair is a thing. I’ve found that many a mom dramatically cuts her locks within the first year of having a baby.

I’m neither pro nor con. Just an observer and a perpetrator, but I have a few theories about the phenomenon.

First, I vaguely remember people telling me my hair would fall out after having a baby.

I do not remember however, anyone telling me I’d feel like a Yeti shedding every inch of hair my head had managed to grow in the past twenty-seven years of life. If I washed, brushed, touched, moved, sneezed, or thought about my hair it fell out.

It drove me nuts crazy to regularly find strands of hair smooshed into my newly acquired nursing cleavage in all its leaking milk glory. It covered every inch of my bathroom floor and clogged up my drains.  The final straw was finding my hair in my daughter’s diaper. I do not want to know how it found its way there.

That postpartum hair is a force to be reckoned with. It’s everywhere. Basically, “hide yo kids, hide yo wife, and hide yo husband, cause yo hair is attacking errbody out here.”

I said to my hair, “Enough hair. Off of my head!”

And so I chopped.

Other hair cutting theories include practicality. Short hair can be easier. New babies or more babies usually means less time for primpin’ and primin’ and off with the hairs moms go. I get that. I tried that.

Maybe moms do it to counterbalance the gallons of milk that are now the ol’ chest. Boobs and loads of hair can be too much business and weight for some ladies to handle.

Perhaps it’s slightly symbolic. Motherhood is an amazingly crazy life change, and an easy outward reflection of that inward change is a new do. It’s as if the new cut sings Aladdin’s “A Whole New World” to each passerby as it bounces weightlessly off of a mother’s shoulders.

It’s a tricky one, to cut that hair or not. I admit, I experienced a brief bout of choppage regret as my short haired dreams went a little more Hilary Clinton circa 1994 instead of a more modern-day Michelle Williams chic. (No disrespect to the former First Lady, she’s just 40 years my senior, not exactly my target hair age group).

Please let it be known that neither short hair or long hair is superior. I’ve been a short hair wearer most of my life. I’m even coming to terms with the fact that long hair and I may never be friends; but I have made my husband swear not to let me cut my hair after this pregnancy on an “I need a change!” hormonal whim.

I fully endorse the shorties, but I think making the decision in the light of day, not during the sleepless delirium of a midnight feeding where the hundredth fallen hair grazing my arm makes me bawl in hysterics is probably the best choice. For this postpartum go round, I’m thinking I’ll work the topknot, or don a beanie or sombrero. If nothing else I can claim the current beauty trend to forgo hair washing for a week.

After my hormonal choppage regret rage simmered down, my hair grew on me (see what I did there?).  I realized, it’s just hair. Grow it out again, lady. Leave it short. Do whatever makes you and your tendrils of hair happy. To thine own hair self be true.

As one who has lived to tell the tale of the mom-cut rite of passage, I’ve often wondered if other mothers have felt the same siren call of the scissors as they whisper promises of ease, change, and fulfillment in one cut. Did you do the do? The mom-do? Any regrets?

Image: My chopped locks and the edible cheeks of my 6-month old daughter

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A Royal Congratulations

Tuesday, December 4th, 2012

My #1 Christmas wish has been granted by Santa: Pregnant with a royal. As a celebrity news enthusiast, I consider this a Christmas miracle. My theory is it makes my baby royal by association, or at least increases her gestational cred (kind of like street cred) by being born in the same year as a royal.

I may have peed my pants with excitement (and in the spirit of pregnant lady solidarity) when I heard news of the royal baby. I figure this brings me one step closer to being Kate’s girl for life. There is nothing so unifying as the crazy miracle of growing a babe.

The happy stories, the horror stories, it brings ladies together. Kate, why can’t we be friends? Let’s share maternity clothes and rub each other’s feet, no? Restraining order, yes.

Really, I give a sincere congratulations to mah girl (I’m taking liberties here) Kate and his handsomeness, Will, on the baby heard round the world, his or her future royal highness.

The royal Palace officially confirmed her pregnancy yesterday, after Kate checked into the hospital for acute morning sickness. Please, it’s not severe morning sickness, it’s royal Hyperemesis Gravidarum. Everything sounds classier through an official Palace statement. And by me adding the word royal.

I knock on wood that it doesn’t happen to her, but when the Palace confirms her royal lack of bladder control and releases her royal dilation, it will all just sound a bit dreamier.

This Christmas, I’ve got visions of royal maternity fashion, royal baby names and royal onesies dancing in my head.

Some may think all the fanfare silly, but I think it grand. While I’m sure there will be plenty of nosiness surrounding the baby, I believe most of it is out of sheer joy. There is something about babies that just makes people ridiculously happy.

Regardless of blood, all babies harbor a bit of royalty in their angelic little innocence and chubbiness. The royal baby, along with all babies, deserve some speculating, dreaming, and congratulating.

I don’t live in a palace but my official homestead report to the couple declares, “My deepest regrets on the royal morning sickness, but my sincerest cheers on this amazing experience. Parenthood is the absolute best.”

Image: Her pregnant foxiness, Princess Catherine, and Prince William, via Featureflash/

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Till Baby Names Do Us Part

Monday, September 17th, 2012

I’m certain I know the reason behind the demise of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes’ marriage. Scientology? Wrong. Control Issues? Closer. My guess: The prospect of having, and more stressfully, naming another child. This monumental decision has the power to break up even the most perfectly paired (odd) couple.

The “Name Game,” as I refer to it, is anything but. In our house divided, it’s the Montagues vs. the Capulets. Neither party will budge. It was nothing short of a Christmas miracle (in June) that we named our first child. I hear of mythical husbands who don’t really have an opinion, but I’m pretty sure those husbands only exist in TV land. The Rands, my better half, is an involved husband and parent (read: he has an opinion and will share it).

Confession: Trying to pick names for a child is one of the top three most frequent fights in our home. I just don’t know how to say nicely, “The names you choose remind me of strippers.” Allowed a defense, my husband would say my names sound like they belong to Birkenstock wearing, doobie rolling, tree hugging hippies. Agree to disagree.

Being a teacher has ruined one too many names for me. “I’m sorry you love that name, boo, but she was a hot mess of a 10th grader and not exactly a role model for our future child.”

Since I’m adamant I don’t want to go the way of TomKat, we have decided no “Name Game” until the gender is determined. It’s a smidgen less stressful when 50 percent of the fight is automatically eliminated. Also, naming the child is my push present. Oh wait, I just made that up. But it sounds like a solid compromise, right?

With the gender reveal ultrasound right around the corner, the name discussion will no longer be taboo. I’m rolling up my sleeves, cooking a hot meal, baking the Mr.’s favorite treat, putting on some slow jams, all to get into the spirit of “compromise,” or at least, give my favorite names a fighting chance.

Image: Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes via s_bukley /

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