Mommy Monday by Liz

Over the years, I've found myself in A LOT of wedding parties.  I always seem to snag that last bridesmaid spot, edging out a distant cousin or a old friend who just hasn't been pulling their weight the past couple of years. In fact, if my writing career doesn't work out, I've always thought I could rent myself out to desperate brides who are lacking a bulldog bridesmaid.  Because doesn't every bride need a McGyver on their team on their big day? Someone who can perform miracles with a safety pin but who will also do tequila shots and the chicken dance?

When I said "I Do" last Fall when Lisa asked me to be her MOH, I felt slightly panicked.  It had been a while since my last tour of duty and I wondered if I still had it in me.  The last time I had served, I had been three months pregnant with my son and had to have my purple chiffon dress taken out more times than I care to admit and secretly worried I might throw up on my bride if the wrong smell crossed my path.  But on that special day, I put my 24/7 nauseousness aside and bustled like nobody's business.  And as I waved goodbye to them as they sped off in their limo to their honeymoon, I sighed and decided it was time to retire my status as perpetual wedding party member.  Putting all that work in without the free drink payoff just didn't feel the same.

But when Lisa got engaged, I was ready. I'd had four years off and was ready to get back on the wedding party circuit-and the fact that I'd be reporting to a couple that I adored was just a bonus.  And for the most part, Lisa was the most easygoing bride I had ever worked for.  She let me choose my own dress and didn't make me have big ol' prom hair.  In fact, she really didn't make me do much of anything before the big day.  But I think that deep down, we both knew that was because she wanted me to be ready for battle when it counted.  And I was!  That morning, I wrangled guests, acted a photographer and DJ in the bridal suite and even held my tongue when I had my makeup done (She was great-but because of my alligator skin I gave "pancake face" a whole new meaning!).  I had my A game on people!

Until my children showed up.

When Lisa generously asked my three and five-year olds to be in her wedding party, little did I know that having them there might mess up my MOHness.  I was too blinded by visions of them floating down the aisle in their Sunday best, although the reality included, me, bent over, walking down the aisle with them while begging my daughter to throw just ONE damn flower.

So when they showed up in the bridal suite, demanding my attention, I was torn.  I had made a commitment to serve my bride.  How did I merge that with the fact that my daughter was walking around with her gold ballet slippers on the wrong feet and wanted to color on her cream tights? Or the guilt I felt when I whacked my three-year-old's head with my papparazzi camera as I tried to get the money shot of Lisa's toast at the rehearsal dinner the night before?

So when crunch time arrived, I was a bit flustered.  Trying to smile as the photographer snapped pictures of me applying Lisa's lipstick, (What can I say, I'm a full-service MOH!) I prayed that he'd crop out the crying child hanging on to my leg and begging to come play "just one game" of Old Maid. And I'm crossing my fingers that my son was too busy with his hot wheels to notice that I drank half the bottle of "Mommy apple juice".

But at the end of the day, we all had a wonderful time. Thanks to a great friend, the hubs and I were able to party that night with our peeps in peace and sleep in the next morning. (Thanks Patrice!) And even though it was way more stressful to have my little rugrats taking part of Lisa's big day than if they had stayed home, I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

I'll never forget how it felt to hear my daughter take a deep breath in when she saw Lisa for the first time in her (gorgeous!) dress or the way my son shyly watched her from the doorway as we arranged her veil.  I'm always amazed by how much more work everything is when the kids are involved, but at the same time infinitely more rewarding. As always, the joys of parenting are always in the little things.

xo, Liz

The Bride Card By Lisa

Some might say the President of the United States is the most powerful man in the world. Others might argue its celebrities like Madonna, Elton John or Brad Pitt who dominate. I say there’s no doubt those people are all important, but there’s someone with a lot more influence and authority. Someone who red carpets roll out for, champagne constantly appears for and anyone will do anything for.

The bride.

For one day, more important than any other uniform in the world is the white dress and veil. And more exclusive and powerful than even the elusive black American Express is another card. A card you only get to carry for one day. A card that you can milk for access to anyone and anything. A card that gets you a yes to any question you ask. A card that allows you to act however you want and still get whatever you want.

The bride card.

Even my award-winning Matron of Honor, Liz, (more on that in a minute) used it. In fact, I might even argue she became drunk with power as the words bridal suite rolled off her tongue with such ease you’d think she’d lived in the 650 square foot space all of her life. If I so much as blinked or even slightly furrowed my brow, Liz was on the phone faster than you can say bridezilla expertly using some combination of the words, “the bride wants”, “the bride needs” or “the bride is REALLY, REALLY thirsty and will ONLY drink White Star champagne.”

Or even when the bride card wasn’t being used for me, but was not so secretly being used for her (um, like rush ordering a hamburger the night before my wedding because the “bride was hungry”) as far as I’m concerned, she was entitled to use it. She deserved to whip out the card because she blocked and tackled like there was no tomorrow. Forget that dude from The Blind Side, Liz may as well have been 6'7" and 350 pounds of rippling muscle as she watched my back.

Like when she offered to kick the asses of certain people who got a little over excited about the concept of an open bar or when she promised to personally rip the wildly inappropriate ensemble off a certain someone and replace it with something far more acceptable like a burlap sack or when my photographer asked us to “dolphin kiss” (not Matt and me—Liz and me!) for the second time (the first was traumatic enough) and she whispered through her toothless smile, “if he even infers we should hold hands, I’ll shove his camera where the sun don’t shine.”

And all the while, I got to float along behind her with a huge toothy smile on my face- wondering if this was what the Queen of England or a mob boss felt like- having someone else to do their dirty work for them.

I’d like to take a moment to give Liz the Matron of Honor of the Year award and thank her for:

  • Wearing four-inch heels during the ceremony even though the highest she ever goes is 1.5.
  • Reminding me to keep things in perspective. Most notably when I called her in a heated panic over a mysterious rash that had appeared on my back and she sternly yet softly warned me that I’d better get it together and realize there were people out there with real problems- like in Haiti.
  • Telling me it was okay that I cried with joy when I saw and loved myself in my wedding dress.
  • And also that it was okay to say out loud that as a producer I thought my wedding was a damn. Good. Show.
  • Sticking her entire head under my wedding dress to put on my “something borrowed” garter and smiling bravely as she got more up close and personal than even my Russian bikini waxer, Tatiana, and saw things she should’ve never had to see. In. Her. Entire. Life. (We’re close, but not that close!)
  • For doing her bride proud and giving a kick ass, laugh out loud MOH speech. (Hilarious highlights include, but are not limited to, the reminder of the pure bred cat I came dangerously close to ordering in the height of my singledom, the list of former metrosexual boyfriends including the Ryan Seacrest wannabe and the very astute and simultaneously frightening observation that my husband, Matt is practically Liz in a wig.)

Thank you, MOH!!!!

Well, I'm happy to report that my wedding day was the best day of my life. And it's not because I got to play the bride card (okay maybe that was a tiny part of it) but because I have the best friends and family anyone could ask for! And I married the best man I could ever ask for.

Oh, and I wore the best. damn. dress. evuh!

On that note-would it be weird if I arbitrarily decided to wear my wedding dress, say, out to dinner or even to run errands? The thought of packing her away makes me too sad for words and the thought of not being the bride anymore, well, I can't even talk about it!




How to be Zen in 2010 by Liz & Lisa

staten-island-new-year32010? Really? How did another decade pass so quickly? It seems like just yesterday that we were LOLing over Janet Jackson's wardrobe malfunction at the Superbowl and shaking our own heads full of hair when Britney Spears shaved hers. Do we even need to bring up that fake British accent?

When the clock struck midnight on New Year's Eve last week, Lisa grabbed her iPhone and kept up our yearly tradition of ringing in the first minutes of the new year, no matter how far we may be from each other.  And after a few awkward moments of slurred screaming, Liz drunkenly declared that 2010 was going to be OUR year.

The year we land an awesome agent!

The year that we get our just-finished manuscript published!


Okay, so forget that last one.  It was probably the Champagne talking.  But the other ones?   So. Happening.

So being the Type-A bitches that we are, we decided to set up some serious resolutions to make sure our dreams come true in 2010.


I couldn't WAIT to say sayonara to 2009.  Between my brother's brush with death to the stress of trying to finish our manuscript, it was a crazy year!  I woke up January 1st with a feeling of peace (and not just because I was still buzzed from my bellinis!) and a feeling that 2010 will be the year that we attain our goals.  Here  are the things I'm resolving to change in 2010...

1. Lose the *gulp* six pounds I gained this holiday season. I promise to never again stand at my kitchen counter and devour 1800 calories of Costco lobster spread and  stale baguette while the Say Yes to the Dress Christmas marathon blares in the family room.

2. Refuse to even crack a smile the next time my husband makes a Jersey Shore joke when the words "The Situation" are used in normal conversation.

3. To start jogging at least three times a week in preparation for the Huntington Beach Superbowl Sunday 5K.  Related Resolution: Stop letting the kids use my unused Bosu ball as a trampoline.

4. Resist making multiple embarrassing references about Lisa's dating past during my Matron of Honor speech at her wedding next month. And make sure to get official MOH dress properly fitted so that my cleavage is not the main attraction at the reception. Related resolution: To control urges to repeatedly request Lady GaGa songs while intoxicated.

5. To try to figure out a better cursing system since my five year old seems to have developed an affinity for spelling.  Damn you California public school system!  I was counting on your low ranking to buy me at least another year.  What the F-*-C-K?


I've never been the kind to make a vow on New Year's Eve that I'll do "this" or "that" the following year. That's probably because every year my resolution would've pretty much been the same.

FIND A MAN Or: Related Resolution: Find a man that's not a jerk. Or: Related Resolution: Find a man who's not AS MUCH OF a jerk as the last. Or Related Resolution: Find a decent vibrator.

Well, now that I'm proud to report I've not only found a great man but he can also confidently co-exist in the same house with certain said paraphernelia, I'm in a resolution kind of mood.

1. Lose five pounds. Damn you,! You just won't back off. You keep sending me emails that the wedding is less than two months away (BTW- I know that!) and that I'd better get. in. shape.  I can't help that during the holidays I gave into that extra piece of pie or that, er, third helping of mashed potatoes because I knew my big, bulky, Midwestern sweaters would hide the weight! Related Resolution: Simply stop eating meat and potatoes for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

2. Stop wearing sweatpants and bulky socks to bed. I preface this by saying that it's 15 degrees DURING THE DAY here. Don't even talk to me about the night. But, yes we have a heater and a humidifier. (I only just learned what the latter was). So, there's really no excuse for how incredibly unsexy I've been this winter (sorry honey!). So, in the words of Justin Timberlake, I vow to bring sexy back! (Or at the very least to lose the socks)!  Related Resolution: Stop canceling on my bi-weekly wax appointment!

3. Stop buying cute winter clothes. I can't help it. When it's cold as balls and you're face is red and your skin is dry, you at least want to dress in a cute outfit to try to offset all the winter-induced ugliness. This California girl used to happily live in a world where UGGS were worn only on nights that dipped below 60 degrees.  So once she discovered the many, many styles of cute boots and coats, it was ovuh.

4. Get over my burning desire to do the Macarana at my wedding. Matt's said it won't be funny. My mom threw her arms up in disgust. Even Liz gave me the eye.  So, I know I can't tell my DJ to play it now because it won't be any fun to do the dance by myself. But I refuse to give up Bel Biv Divoe, Rob Base or Shout! (Yeah, you read that right!) Related Resolution: Keep Liz from the DJ so she can't request Lady GaGa. Nothing ruins a buzz faster than her rendition of Paparazzi!

HAPPY NEW YEAR From Chick Lit is not Dead!  Now, tell us- what are your 2010 resolutions?


Liz & Lisa