You're Cut Off

The Royal Wedding: To watch Or Not To watch?

We've been BFF's for over two decades, so sometimes it seems like we've almost morphed into the same person.  People often comment on our similar speech patterns, our common likes and dislikes and our shared penchant for really, really bad reality TV.(You're Cut Off marathon, anyone?)  But there's one issue that we VIOLENTLY disagree on.  An issue that is threatening to tear our twenty-three year friendship apart. The Royal Wedding.

While Lisa is triple checking that her DVR is set and getting her tissues ready, Liz is rolling her eyes and wondering how Kate Middleton's dress design is making headline news (isn't the fact that a tank of gas now practically costs more than a bottle of really good wine more interesting?!)  And after Lisa publicly called Liz out on Facebook as a Debbie Downer: Royal Wedding edition, we decided to take it to the mat blog to make our cases.  And we'll leave it up to you to decide who's right! (and yes, we take bribes!) 

Leave a comment to tell us what YOU think and we'll choose someone to receive a copy of Poor Little Bitch Girl by Jackie Collins on Sunday night after 6pm PST.


Thirty years ago, I watched Princess Di marry Charles. It was live. There were no such things as digital recording devices. I couldn't forward through the boring parts or rewind to catch something again. I just had to watch. And all I remember is loving every minute of it. I remember Diana's dress with its big poofy sleeves and the train that seemed to stretch for days. I remember being wide-eyed with excitement that I was watching history in the making. (Even though I admit I was also pretty darn excited about this new thing I'd heard about called MTV which debuted just a couple of days later.) I didn't know it then, but 750 million people were watching that royal wedding me.  That's a mother truckin' lot of people, people! So, um, yeah I'll be watching this royal wedding too.  And not just because it's history in the making again. But because I care about the really important stuff like what she'll be wearing, how she'll arrive(horse drawn carriage? convertible? what celebs will be there? Becks and Posh? Elton?).  Now don't get me wrong, after a lot of sleepless nights with a new baby, I'm not thrilled about the early wake up call. But yes, I'm going to wake up (the DVR is only a back up) and soak it all in- LIVE. Take that, Liz Fenton!


Before you even ask, yes, I watched Diana watch down the aisle so many years ago in her ridiculously long train and loved every minute of it.  Fortunately for me back then, there was no such thing as a 24 news cycle.  My eyes weren't bleeding with hours and hours of coverage on everything from the royal cake to Kate's shoes.  I was able to turn on CNN and catch up on all of the actual events of the world that mattered, like Japan's recovery and the growing conflicts around the world, rather than be force-fed the details of the royal wedding parade route.  It's not that I'm William and Kate hater.  I think Kate seems down to earth and I have no doubt she'll make a beautiful bride.  And even though Harry always been my fave of the brothers(he just seems so naughty-I always love the bad boys...), I'm cool with William. But it's the over-coverage that's sending me screaming in the other direction.  The desperateness of every single organization to make EVERY FREAKIN' DETAIL a major news story and exploit ANY possible comparison of Diana and Kate. That it's a major effort to avoid it because of the infiltration of every aspect of my life-Facebook! Twitter! My favorite morning radio show! So because of that, I must boycott.  Although, even this wedding grinch must admit that I'm pretty damn curious about her dress.  Lisa, you have permission to email me a picture!  And P.S.-stop tagging me in your Facebook posts about it!

Will you be watching?  Tell us!

xoxo, Liz & Lisa

Mommy Monday: Is Spit Up The New Black?

I'm baaaack. Did you miss me? ;)

It feels good to step out of the "baby cave" for a minute. To be doing something other than debating the merits of sensitive baby wipes vs. regular baby wipes or trying to figure out how to keep a burp cloth clean for longer than five seconds.

Since giving birth to my daughter thirty days ago, I've come to a very important realization. It doesn't matter how many books you read or bad eighties videos you watch in your birthing class, until you actually become a mother, there is no way you can fully comprehend two words.

Sleep. Deprivation.

Sure, everyone tried to warn me while I was still pregnant. Get your sleep now. While you still can. And of course I didn't listen because I was unnaturally obsessed with things like reorganizing the kitchen and cleaning out heating vents.

And now- a month later- although I'm basically running on fumes from the aforementioned lack of shut eye and all of the following things were written in a varying state of delirium (as this post is now), I've recorded some of my other observations from my first month of motherhood:

Day 1- Water breaks at 10:00 p.m. while watching Top Chef. Think I peed my pants. Ask hubs to help me figure it out (I'll let you fill in the blanks on how we did this). Decide this is okay because if I truly am in labor, he's going to potentially see a lot worse once we are at the hospital.

Day 2- If I could do it all over again, I'd skip the Five Guys Burgers and Fries cheeseburger with jalapenos. No fun to have the burger sitting in my stomach while in labor. Tell this story to everyone and anyone who will listen after I've been given my epidural.

Day 3- Nurses keep coming in and marveling at the fact that I'm not 300 lbs with all the Oxycotin I've been taking for my post c-section pain. Can you say Lisa Limbaugh?

Day 4- Totally, deeply and madly in love with my little girl. She is the best thing I have ever done in my life. Hoping when she's old enough to weigh in on that, she'll agree.

Day 5- We're home. Talking to Matt. He says something about Maria. Who's Maria?, I ask. The nurse who helped us every day at the hospital! he exclaims. Oops. Realizing that I don't remember much of my hospital stay. See Day #3- Oxycotin.

Day 6- Up all night. Haven't done this since pulling an all-nighter in college. But at least that involved lots of coffee and sugar and, er, I was only twenty!

Day 7- Check on the baby for the millionth time to make sure she's breathing. Will I ever stop doing this?

Day 8- Decide I have the most beautiful baby in the world. Me and every other mother.

Day 9- Major accomplishment. Can Facebook and breastfeed at the same time. I feel 1/16 human again.

Day 10- Need to remind myself to stop bragging about how good Baby D is. Every time I do this, she decides to throw the schedule we've been keeping out the window as if to say, Don't forget who runs this show, mommy!

Day 11- Discovered I can hide in the shower- if only for a few fleeting moments. Who knew a three minute hot shower could change my life?

Day 12- Thinking about the woman from Africa who's in the documentary, Babies. She gives birth in a hut without medication and minutes later is breast feeding her baby in one arm and hauling water in the other. Remind myself not to get frustrated that my hospital grade breast pump doesn't work perfectly and/or I can't hear my Real Housewives of Beverly Hills episode over the pumping sound.

Day 13- Decide the hubs and I should have our own middle of the night reality show. We make absolutely no sense when we talk to each other because we are never fully awake. I think we're hilarious but not sure anyone else would laugh. Might be worth taping ourselves to find out.

Day 14- Wake up in the middle of the night and frantically search the bed for my baby. This keeps happening. Baby is always safe and sound in crib. Has never slept in our bed. Not sure where this is coming from.

Day 15- Pediatrician called me Mom. I looked over my shoulder for the mom he was talking to. Guess it's going to take a while for this new title to sink in.

Day 16- Is spit up the new black? I'm beginning to think so as it's my main accessory with every outfit.

Day 17- Lying in a pillow covered in spit up. Too tired to care.

Day 18- Silently cried listening to the baby cry after I put her down for a nap. With tears streaming down my face, I sneaked into her room for the umpteenth time and peered into her crib without letting her see me. Feel like weird baby stalker.

Day 19- My poor mother is on the receiving end of a major sleep deprivation meltdown. After the hubs intervened and forced me to nap, I wake with no memory of the content of the meltdown. Scary.

Day 20- Liz arrives. She becomes my breastfeeding coach- determined to help me stock up on milk supply so I can sleep and someone else can feed the baby. Friendship taken to a whole new level when I attach pumps and pump with abandon right next to her on the living room sofa. Matters more to me to have milk for the hubs to feed baby than Liz seeing my areolas. But I do believe Liz was traumatized. Very traumatized.

Day 21- I was "that wife" today. Called the hubs at work to talk about poop. And formula. And nipples. Had to hang up mid-talk as I rose about my body and realized what I was doing.

Day 22- The baby smiled at me. I don't care what anyone says, she didn't smile because she had gas. She was really smiling!

Day 23- The baby burped a nice, deep, truck driver belch. Am more excited about this than when I was nominated for an Emmy.

Day 25- Baby asleep. Have the house to myself. Drinking coffee (shh...). Watching You're Cut Off marathon (another gift Liz gave me while here- turning me on to such a bad TV show). Feel like I've won the lottery.

Day 26- Another major accomplishment. Played Angry Birds- with my left hand- while feeding the baby!

Day 30- Baby had to get a shot. Decide that if I were to get shot with a double barrel shot gun in the face, it would hurt me less. Welcome to motherhood.


Lisa, a.k.a. "Mom"?!?!