An unfiltered fire hose of flaming condemnation

The last few weeks of being eight

She’s so much taller than she was just a month ago, so much longer from her elbow to her the tips of her fingers. She’s also so much more in tune with the emotions that make us human, the give and take in relationships. I have to be really careful to hide the worry and stress that I feel when I’m overwhelmed because she can spot the wrinkle in my forehead from across the room. And then she worries because she wants to make it better. It’s the same dynamic I had with my own mother, except I didn’t have an ornery little sister I was trying to keep quiet because I could tell that the screaming was making my mom’s shoulders creep closer to her ears. That’s too much for her to carry around, so I’m diligent about showing her more of the happiness I feel about her than the panic I feel about my life.

She’s amazing, this complicated human who is my daughter.

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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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