Kristi Pahr

My parenting mantra is: "Do your best and hope he doesn't turn into a sociopath." And I guess that's really all we can do, because if we're honest with ourselves, I think none of us really know what we're doing.

“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.

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

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.

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

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

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

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 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.

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