Kristi Pahr

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

“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.

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

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

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