the smell of my desperation has become a stench

Real heroes caught on tape

Yesterday in the middle of a crying fit I called Beth to seek some comfort. When she answered the phone and heard me crying, she said she knew that there must be one of three things wrong with me, the first being that I was watching “Oprah.”

“That baby needed a new liver!” I bawled. And she said she was just a few minutes ahead of me in the episode (we were both watching it on TiVo). I was a bit inconsolable, and she assured me that she was just as affected when that eight-year-old boy started crying because that woman had saved him from the pit bulls.

After I hung up I wanted to call Jon immediately, but in the haze of my tears I dialed Beth’s number instead of Jon’s work number. I don’t want to admit just how much I make that mistake. When Beth answered I said, “Oh, I called you? I’m sorry, I meant to call Jon, BUT THAT MAN GAVE UP HIS LIVER FOR THAT BABY!” And I started crying again.

Everyone needs a friend they can call during “Oprah,” and then accidentally call again, especially one who will call back in five minutes and ask, “Are you okay? The baby lived. You do realize that, right?”

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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