Kristi Pahr

It seems like everyone is an introvert these days.

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.

Don’t be an asshole is my barometer. It’s my go-to for figuring out how to respond to any given situation, big or small, personal, local, or global.

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

Once your doctor or midwife has cleared you for sex and you’re feeling ready to get back in the saddle, so to speak, there are a few things you’ll need to mentally prep yourself for.

“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 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.

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

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

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.