An unfiltered fire hose of flaming condemnation

Makes Mouths Happy

Here is a photo of my daughter with a cancer-causing, artery-clogging twizzler in her mouth. Please commence getting all up in my ass.

And here is a picture of a bee. On a flower.

We’re back. It wasn’t a good week. It would classify somewhere between not very good and disastrous leaning heavily toward the disastrous end.

We have a whole bunch of errands to run which leaves me with no time to update, but I’ll leave you with a couple things:

1. My boobs are no longer engorged. It took 10 days. My body is once again MY OWN. Bottles of Maker’s Mark everywhere: BEWARE.

2. Nothing in this world is more awesome than watching a baby roll over from her stomach to her back. Nothing, except perhaps a baby squealing at the sight of a twizzler.

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Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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