Kristi Pahr

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

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

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 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.

It is understood that to effectively and officially attachment parent your child, you need to hit all the markers, check all the boxes, and do it without dissolving into a crying mess on the floor when your baby won’t stop crying and you only slept for two hours and you have to go to the supermarket because you’re out of coffee, but you shouldn’t even be DRINKING coffee and you’re the worst mother in the world.

If a person meets a certain threshold, it’s considered a pathology called Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Here's how you can spot a narcissist.

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

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.

I’m not a TV person. I used to be, but not so much anymore.