Kristi Pahr

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

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.

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

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

I’ve been pregnant three times, and I have two beautiful, amazing, awe-inspiri

“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.