Kristi Pahr

I’m frazzled, y’all; I’m a mess. I’m a basketcase of anxiety and stress and I need to chill.

I know how it feels to not contribute financially to the household. I know how it feels to be completely dependent on someone else for my financial stability. I know how it feels to know that if something dreadful and unthinkable happened, I’d be completely destitute. And it’s terrifying.

When my oldest son was a baby, my husband and I used to talk about what sports he would play.

I have to go shopping tomorrow and I’m dreading it.

I’m lazy as hell, you guys. I know it’s true and I’m not particularly ashamed.

“Is she Black or white?” I asked another mom who was describing a little girl in her son’s class that she thought my family might know.

It seems like everyone is an introvert these days.

2016 sucked. If we can’t agree on anything else, I think we can all agree on at least that much.

Things as simple as a missed call from an unknown number or someone knocking on your door put me into straight up fight or flight. I really do hide from people who come to my door. Real talk, I have gotten on my hands and knees below a window so they wouldn’t see me. I’ve even hidden in the closet. I know. Whacko.

When I got pregnant for the third time, I was determined to have an unmedicated VBAC. I had big plans. This VBAC was going to be my birth experience salvation. It was going to be empowering and amazing and heal all my hangups. I was going to be a mama goddess and everything was going to be perfect. I was wrong.