Sunday was a blur of running kids back and forth to play dates and more kid stuff and then more kid stuff. After I got both of them into bed I realized, shit. I was supposed to get drunk on tequila with a whole bunch of other people on an outdoor patio somewhere littered with piñatas and other culturally insensitive paraphernalia. But here I am celebrating Cinco de Mayo by myself in my pajamas, in bed with a bowl of tortilla chips, looking at photos of dogs on Instagram. The Heather who lived in West Hollywood would be so excited about her future.
Heater, Mother of Lance
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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