My name is Liz. (That’s just enough anonymity to allow me to write freely, but not quite so much that a resourceful googler couldn’t out me in about thirteen seconds.)I’m a writer hailing from the justly maligned world of advertising. I’ve created some of the commercials you love, and some that I will go to the grave denying any part in. I’ve also written a book. And some short films (sort of). And a painfully bad pregnancy journal with entries like, I just love you already my little girl, and your daddy loves you too and you will be the most-loved girl ever in the world. Because we love you.
I am one of those beyatches who managed to get pregnant on the very first try at 36, when my ovaries had no business being so cooperative. I am grateful, if still a bit shocked.
My partner in clumsy but devoted parenting is Nate, a lapsed Mormon, a lapsed but resurgent comedy writer, a fellow raging-ranting liberal, and the best stay-at-home dad one income can buy. You can read more about us here. We bicker a lot. And we’re totally fun. Hire us for your next party.
When we had Thalia in July of 2005—what can I say—turns out we got the best one. Oh don’t get me wrong, I’m sure your child is just wonderful too. Hey, even second best is still in the 99th percentile.
Now if only I knew what I was doing.
Updated: Cut to August 2008, Thalia is 3 going on can I borrow the car keys, her sister Sage is 15 months. Oh yes indeed, why I did spawn again! I’m a partner in this here very fine website and contributed to a most excellent book about parenting and have written a whole bunch of parenting columns and essays (and am particularly proud of this one) and continue to hold on tight and muddle through one day at a time.
So does this mean I know what I’m doing now?
Nope. Not really. Not really at all.