An unfiltered fire hose of flaming condemnation

Christmas night fever

When my family showed up to help me with the holiday decorations, my mother pulled out two giant disco ball ornaments from a bag and yelled, “Surprise!” to the girls. I’m sorry, but what sort of holiday theme is she going for? John Travolta white bell bottom pelvic thrust? Neon bracelets all-night rave in the desert? Tacky?

Marlo asked to sleep with “The Ball” last night. I drew a line and told her no, it’s staying on a branch at the back of the tree where no one can see it.

I love you, Mom. Even though you’re weird.

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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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