the smell of my desperation has become a stench

Renewing our vows

Jon and I are watching the national evening news when they air a story about a severely injured soldier who returns from Iraq to his loving wife. She spends months by his side to help in his long, agonizing recovery, and the final shot fades on her hand as she grips his now deformed arm. I start bawling.

“That really touched you, didn’t it?” Jon asks.

“I just, I don’t know, I mean…” I’m trying to gather the right words between sobs. “I want you to know that if you got hurt in Iraq I would stand by you. I would be there for you.”

“Thank you,” he says. “That means a lot to me.”

“I’m serious! I want you to believe that!” I say as I grab his hand emphatically.

“I know!” he says. “And I want you to know that if you ever got hurt blogging, I WOULD BE RIGHT HERE FOR YOU.”

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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