An unfiltered fire hose of flaming condemnation

Joy

As I’ve mentioned before, Marlo will eat anything. And apparently when she was with my mother one night last week she ate an entire piece of pizza. Leta didn’t do that until… oh wait. NEVER.

This has led to some really awful, horrifying, no one should ever have to live through something like this diaper scenarios. Like, last night when she’s sitting there sweetly, and two seconds later a volcanic waterfall of shit goes shooting up and out the top of her pants. Both Jon and I immediately start gagging at the smell of it when Tyrant walks in and asks blankly, “Don’t you parents ever get used to this sort of thing? Why are you making those noises?”

He asked if we ever get used to the smell of poop. Like, don’t you ever get used to having some stranger walk up behind you and swing a fifty-pound dumbbell against the base of your skull?

It was about twenty minutes before we usually put her to bed, so we let her crawl around in nothing but her diaper for a while. And you guys! MY GOD! The joy in our house! Seriously, THE JOY! Look at this baby!

And yes, that is an electrical cord in her mouth. But it’s not plugged in! Minus twenty points, plus ten points, means I’m only ten points down!

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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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