the smell of my desperation has become a stench

From Rambo to Rocky

It started when, one night after an exhausting day of having other people satisfy her every need, Marlo was told no, she could not play with my phone. And since she’s such a reasonable human being, she fell to the ground and began hitting the floor with her face. I was just about to tell her that she might want to be careful, our faces were not intended for these kinds of activities, but I didn’t have to. She busted her bottom lip open, and just like that she stopped!

The following afternoon I was sitting at my desk when I heard a huge THAWUMP! followed immediately by deafening cries. I knew McKenzie was watching Marlo and could handle whatever had caused that sequence of noises, so I waited a few minutes before running downstairs to check on things. Marlo had stopped crying, was standing behind the coffee table, and before I could even ask, “What happened?” she had fallen again, her legs flipped like a fish into the air. She wasn’t even walking anywhere.

I’m not going to lie and tell you that I held it together, because that shit was hilarious.

Yes, there was comforting, and I even tenderly whispered in her ear that everything was going to be okay, but damn, she’s going to be good at physical comedy one day. The scene just kept repeating itself in my brain, except this time it was in slow motion and was accompanied by the sound of a limp horn:

“Wahhh-wahhhhhhhh.”

Two hours later while attempting to jump, she tripped over the imaginary air under her feet and then stumbled halfway across the room where she landed head-first into the coffee table, at just the right angle. Because you know the excruciating silence that happens when a kid is hurt, the one between the gasp for air and the first roaring wail? That’s how long it took for her right eye to turn black.

So, let’s take a tally here… busted lip, black eye, inability to stand for an extended length of time without falling over. That should be enough right? Except the following morning I leaned down to pick her up when she suddenly jerked her body in such a way that my thumb caught the side of her face and scraped a three-inch gash out of her cheek.

Jon was like, dude! What are you doing? And I was all, dude? It’s obvious that the Universe is attacking Marlo through her face, and now it’s using me as a weapon! This shit needs a priesthood blessing!

So to answer your question… the reason I haven’t posted a recent picture of Marlo in almost two weeks? We’d like to retain custody.

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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