Kristi Pahr

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

I feel like if I’d started earlier, had my first kid at 28 instead of 34, maybe I’d be a little less tired right now. Maybe I’d be a more fun mom if my knees didn’t sound like small arms fire every time I tried to run with my son. Maybe I’d be a better mom if I was younger. But I don’t think so. My kids? They’re awesome. And I’m the mom they have, so I must be doing something right, old or not.

I have a confession to make. Target, meh. I’m just not that into it.

As a mother of boys, I find this trend disturbing. Yes, we need to build up our girls. We need to empower them and teach them that they are capable and viable and powerful — that they are smart and that they matter. But we cannot devalue our boys in the process.

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

Life looks a lot different at 40 than it did at 25, and I have a whole new list of things to worry about. It's a very long list, and it makes me anxious on the best day, plain terrified on the worst day, and on a run-of-the-mill day, it just keeps reminding me that I'm clueless about what to think and what to do and how to be grown.

My version of self-care is a little less “best life” and a little more “no life”, but it works for me.

I found my first gray hair when I was 12 years old. Twelve. I had gray hair before I had a period.

I think we can all agree that there is some messed up stuff happening right now.

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