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Mom's viral take on 'kids vs. marriage' offers a refreshing perspective on family balance

Parents are embracing her view that it’s okay to let kids be the ‘main characters’ for now.

Kaitlin Klimmer and her husband Michael

As many parents know, balancing marriage and parenthood is no easy feat. Kaitlin Klimmer, a baby and toddler sleep expert, sparked a conversation on Instagram with an eye-catching statement: “My marriage doesn’t come before my kids.” Her post resonated with thousands, challenging the notion that parents must always prioritize their relationship above all—even during the intense, early parenting years.

"Basically, IT’S OK if in these chapters, the kids are the main characters of our love story. We still have the rest of the book to write."

— Kaitlin Klimmer

Reflecting on an early attempt to reconnect with her husband, she shared, “When my first was a baby, our family kept telling my husband and I we ‘needed’ to reconnect and we ‘needed’ to prioritize our relationship and we ‘needed’ to go out on a date just the two of us. So we did. And I was anxious the entire time... The best part of the night was changing into our sweats, putting my sleeping baby on my chest where she belonged, and cuddling on the couch to watch a movie together.”


Klimmer and her husband Michael have been together for 12 years and married for five. They have two young daughters, ages 7 and 3, and a third child on the way. Their approach to balancing family needs is seasonal, she explains—intense parenting now doesn’t mean ignoring their marriage; it just means it looks different.

Questioning the “bounce-back” culture

Klimmer’s message also critiques “bounce-back” culture, which pressures new moms to return to pre-baby routines, including regular date nights. “The pressure to maintain the pre-baby relationship POST babies is just another example of the patriarchy telling women… no one around them should feel the impact of having those kids—including their partners,” Klimmer wrote.

Followers agreed, with @michellethompson_sa commenting, “Our kids are 1000% our number one priority, and my husband and I couldn’t be happier.” Another added, “Kids come first. They are only little for a short time—they always need you, but when they are older, it’s not the same as when they are babies.”

Other commenters, like @littlebearlactation, argued that parents shouldn’t feel pressured to choose, saying, “You can absolutely meet your kids' needs without putting marriage on the back burner… It’s not either-or. It can be both.” This sentiment aligns with studies, such as one published in the Journal of Family Psychology, which found that stable parental relationships can foster secure family environments.

Trusting a strong foundation

Klimmer’s approach focuses on trusting the strength of her relationship through early parenthood. “My husband is a grown man with a developed brain. He understands that the intense neediness of young children is a relatively short phase in our relationship,” she said, adding, “If my husband and I put our marriage on the ‘backburner’ for a bit during this season, it’s a blip in the radar of what will be a decades-long partnership.”

Embracing “micro-moments” over big gestures

For Klimmer, staying close doesn’t mean big date nights but finding “micro-moments” to connect: watching a favorite show together or just chatting after the kids are asleep. This approach resonated with many parents who feel overwhelmed by the expectation to maintain a “perfect” marriage while meeting young kids’ needs.

“We are both involved in raising our little guy and try to show him what a healthy partnership looks like,” said @sashalekasha. “I feel like this has actually made our marriage grow stronger with time.” This view aligns with insights from Psychology Today, which suggests that shared parenting itself can strengthen marriages.

Not everyone agreed...

Some commenters felt strongly that prioritizing the marriage is essential for family health. @lindsaylayden shared a counterpoint, saying, “Not only is it important to prioritize your marriage to keep it healthy so it doesn’t fall apart when the kids grow up, BUT keeping it healthy and prioritizing it brings safety to the home as a whole. Your kids want to see their parents happy and stable. That’s not going to happen if the marriage is on the back burner.”

"When parents prioritize their marriage they show their kids ‘we love you but our job is to help you become a great, successful, confident person not make you the center of our world’.”

— @lindsaylayden

For some, like @lindsaylayden, keeping the marriage in focus helps provide a stable and nurturing home, showing children what a committed relationship looks like and fostering a sense of security.

Finding what works for your family

Ultimately, Klimmer’s post is a reminder that families are unique, and each finds its own rhythm. While some parents argue that nurturing the marriage offers stability, others see focusing on their children as a natural, temporary shift.

"How about we not judge or assume our way is the best way at all? We’re all empowered to make decisions that work for us and for those we love."

— @bethbovey

Klimmer added that she and her husband both prioritize their children, and this choice has strengthened their bond rather than weakened it. She wrote that their united approach actually makes them feel “really connected in this journey of caring for little humans.” Klimmer’s story reminds us that the best way forward is to let each family thrive. Whether you’re a “children come first” parent, a “marriage comes first” parent, or somewhere in between, the only right choice is the one that makes your family feel whole.

via Irudayam / Flickr

Being in nature is soothing to the soul. The air is cleaner. The night sky is darker so it's easier to sleep. And there's something calming about being in the natural harmony of the wilderness.

But, on the other hand, it's tough to find a place to get good sushi or an exciting night club.

This begs the age-old question: is it better to live in the city or the country? The answer has always been, "depends on who you ask," but a new study out of Denmark says that being near dense vegetation is clearly better for one's mental health.

A nationwide study of over 900,000 people published in PNAS showed that "children who grew up with the lowest levels of green space had up to 55% higher risk of developing a psychiatric disorder independent from effects of other known risk factors."


The researchers came to this determination after studying robust population data taken by the Danish government.

"If we were talking about a new medicine that had this kind of effect the buzz would be huge," Kelly Lambert, a neuroscientist at the University of Richmond, told NPR.

Igor Menezes Fotógrafo / Flickr

Researchers looked at satellite images of to see how much green space surrounded the areas where the participants grew up.

According to the study, the participants didn't necessarily have to live in a forest to enjoy the mental health benefits, just reside within a reasonable drive from wilderness areas, public parks, and urban green spaces.

Related: Pro-choicer gets called a 'murderer,' responds with questions about what it means to be 'pro-life.'

People of higher socioeconomic status tend to live in areas with greater access to parks and have the means to shield their children from some mental disorders. So the researchers factored in income data as well to weigh the relative contribution of green space against socioeconomic backgrounds.

The researchers also found that the results were "dosage dependent." The greater percentage of someone's childhood spent near green spaces, the less the chance of developing mental illness.

Lambert suggests that access to green spaces may be good for our mental health because humans evolved surrounded nature.

While the findings suggest the power that comes from human beings in their natural environment, Kristine Engemann, the biologist who led the study is cautious about saying that access to green spaces causes positive mental health outcomes.

"It's purely correlational, so we can't definitively say that growing up near green space reduces risk of mental illness," Engemann told NPR.

Further research is needed to get to the root causes of how topography affects mental health. But the article makes a great argument for more parks being built in urban areas.

Parenting is the hardest job on the planet.

Air traffic control? Super stressful job. Brain surgeon? Not for the faint of heart. But parents take on the most relentless and challenging work on Earth every single day. Here's what makes raising humans the toughest job:

1. The responsibility is immense, and the stakes are incredibly high — yet there is no manual.

The first time you hold your baby — the weight of their entire life in your hands — it's nearly impossible not to be overwhelmed. You question whether you're adequate for the task, and the fact that you have no real idea what you're doing hits you. This is a person's life we're talking about. How did you get put in charge of a life?


And no matter how many experts you talk to or parenting books you read, you discover that children always find a way to thwart their wisdom and keep you on your toes. What works with one child is totally ineffectual with another. Your job is to nurture these tiny humans physically, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually — and you basically have to figure it out as you go along.

A story for the ages . . .

Posted by Annie Reneau, Writer on Tuesday, February 16, 2016

2. It’s physically and emotionally exhausting — and there are no real breaks.

Unless you’re lucky, you start off parenting with months of sleep deprivation that you never seem to catch up from. Even after kids figure out how to sleep, they wake you up because they're scared, they wet the bed, their pajamas are "scratchy," they're dying of thirst, or 5 a.m. on Saturday seems like a good time to party. Later, they choose your bedtime to have their most profound, hours-long heart-to-heart talks with you.

And in this constantly tired state, you are expected to be "on" 24/7. You must feed these people several times a day, every day, or they'll die. Dealing with their bodily functions feels like a full-time job in certain stages. And those are just the bare basic physical needs.

Until you're in it, it's impossible to understand the mental and emotional work that goes into parenting. You field 583,417 questions — half of which are unanswerable — in a kid's fourth year of life alone. You have to teach kids to navigate social and emotional landscapes that you yourself are still figuring out, and inevitably, at least one child will exhibit a behavior that you never even knew existed and have no idea how to handle.

Who knew Guns n' Roses had such a bead on parenting?

Posted by Annie Reneau, Writer on Monday, June 6, 2016

Parenting taxes the body, brain, and heart — and it's nonstop. Even if you get a physical break, you're always thinking about their wellbeing.

3. If the exhaustion doesn't get you, the worry might.

When my first child was a baby, I watched an "Oprah" episode about child abduction, and I've pretty much been terrified ever since. Like exhaustion, the worry waxes and wanes but never really stops.

Before kids, my definition of "overprotective" was something totally different than it is now. And thanks to the internet, parents have a whole host of concerns that generations past didn't have. Technology can open awesome new worlds of learning and exploration for our kids, but literally one click can lead them into a world of sick and twisted depravity.

You don't want to be neurotic, but you need a healthy amount of concern in order to make wise choices. Discerning what's worth worrying about and what's not is a constant — and exhausting — balancing act.

If I had a nickel . . .

Posted by Annie Reneau, Writer on Saturday, April 8, 2017

4. You don't get a paycheck — and in fact, this job costs you money.

Parenting comes with more responsibility and stress than any occupation, but there's no paycheck, no seasonal bonuses, no monetary compensation of any kind.

In fact, generally speaking, the more time you spend parenting, the less money you make. There's also no paid leave. You usually have to pay someone else to watch your kids so you can have "time off."

Your superhuman ability to multi-task, keen attention to detail, and devotion to the job will not be noticed by the boss and rewarded with a promotion or a raise. In fact, you'll be lucky if these skills and qualities are noticed by anyone.

5. Yet we do our best anyway because our love for our kids is unparalleled — and the rewards are priceless.

Honestly, if we didn't love our children, they'd be a lot easier to raise. We wouldn't worry about them or bother figuring out what's best for them. We'd sleep through the night and let them cry until they turn blue. We'd plop them in front of the TV with Cheetos and root beer to keep them quiet and go about our days in peace.

But we do love them. The heart-swelling, Earth-shattering, all-consuming love we have for our kids is what makes us get up at 3 a.m. to chase away bad dreams, dutifully wipe a butt for the 2054th time, and agonize over meal-planning and screen-time limits.

And that love is also the reward we get for a job well done.

Love creates the challenge of parenting yet makes it all worthwhile. It's the cause of our parenting woes yet also the cure. My kid could be driving me up the wall one minute, but when he lays his head on my shoulder and says, "I love you, Mommy," I fall head-first into that gushy cloud of kid-love that has propelled the human race forward for millennia. Those moments always remind me that the joy ultimately outweighs the hard.

As much as I don't like the occasional kick when BoyWonder climbs into bed with us in the wee hours, I do love waking up...

Posted by Annie Reneau, Writer on Thursday, June 4, 2015

So keep on keepin' on, parents. Here's to you and the vital, daily, unacknowledged work you put into raising good humans.

Photo by saeed karimi on Unsplash

The scenarios of parenting have many hurdles in order to offer a healthy way of approaching life.

The second week of first grade, my 6-year-old son came home and told me, very seriously, "Mama, I have a girlfriend, and I love her."

I didn't laugh at him or tell him he is too young to have a girlfriend, and I didn't minimize his feelings. We had a very serious conversation about his girlfriend: what he likes about her, what they talk about at lunch, and what games they play on the playground at recess. I asked questions about her; some he knew the answers to, and some he didn't.

Nearly every day after that for some time, we talked about his girlfriend, and in every conversation, in some way, we talked about consent — what it means, what it looks like, and how I expect him to act.


I didn't objectify the little girl by referring to her as "your little girlfriend" as I've heard other adults tease their own children. I didn't make jokes about him being a heartbreaker or tell him that the girls will be falling all over him by high school. I didn't tell him his feelings don't matter — and I definitely didn't tell him her feelings don't matter. I think the seeds of misogyny are planted with words as much as behavior, and I treated his emotions seriously because, for him, being in love for the first time is the most serious thing in the world. He will remember this little girl just as I remember my first boyfriend, and how I handle things now is setting the tone for the future.

I wasn't expecting to have these conversations in the context of a relationship quite so soon.

His older brother is more introverted, with the exception of the occasional fleeting crush. But I have been talking about consent and modeling it since my sons were babies.

The idea that young men need to learn about consent in high school or college goes hand-in-hand with the idea that sex education shouldn't be taught before then, either. Consent is an ongoing conversation in our home, framed to suit the situation. But now that my son has a girlfriend, I'm finding ways to introduce the concept of consent within a relationship on a level that he can understand.

From the time my sons were very little — before they could even talk — I started teaching them about body autonomy and consent.

"Do you want me to tickle you?" "Can I pick you up?" "Do you want me to brush your hair?"

I would ask whenever I could, waiting for their response before proceeding. Yes, of course, there are times when a young child needs to be picked up or hair needs to be brushed whether they want it or not, but there are just as many times when children can be given — and deserve — the right to choose. And so I let them decide whenever I can.

Teaching them that no one can touch them without permission was the first step in teaching them about respecting the boundaries of others.

I model the respect I expect them to extend to others. It is an ongoing lesson, as the most important lessons always are.

Of course they fight — what siblings don't? But I teach them that, whatever the game or activity, if someone says "Stop!" or "No!" they are to stop what they are doing.

To that end, I try to stay out of their squabbles and give them time to sort them out. If they don't stop, there are consequences. We talk about how it feels to have someone keep chasing, tickling, or bothering you when you've told them to stop. I watch their empathy for others grow as they consider how it feels to be little and have grownups want to touch their faces or hug them without permission. They're learning, and it gives me hope.

But now I'm having daily conversations with my youngest son about girlfriends and what is — and isn't — OK.

He knows he has to ask if she wants a hug before he touches her. He knows that it's rude to refer to her as "my girlfriend" when talking about her and that it's better, and more respectful, to use her name.

He knows that if he gives her a gift, he should give her a chance to respond instead of inundating her with more gifts. "Let's wait and see how she feels about this lovely picture you made her before you draw another one," I tell him, explaining how overwhelming it can be to have someone give you gifts when you're not ready for them or haven't had a chance to return the affection. Of course, I'm thinking about the boy I knew my junior year of high school who would constantly leave me trinkets of his affection at my locker — affection that wasn't reciprocated and made me uncomfortable, especially after I asked him to stop.

I don't know if I'm doing this right, honestly.

There are times when I think to myself, "But he's only 6! Why are we even having this conversation?" And then I remind myself, "If not now, when?"

I know what it means to be a girl in this world, and my sons are starting to hear my #MeToo stories, the ones they're old enough to understand. How do I talk about what's wrong in the world if I'm not willing to talk about the right behaviors, the right way to treat women?

I know my sons have a good role model in their father and in our marriage. I know they watch how my husband interacts with me, and I see it reflected in how they treat me. It's a start, but I know it's not enough in a world that sends mixed messages to boys about girls and how to treat them.

It's been eye-opening, seeing how my children regard consent.

I've seen how those early lessons in teaching them about their own right to say no have gone a long way in teaching them the empathy and respect they show for others now.

I know we're not done; we're only just starting. I know it's only going to get more complicated as they get older.

But at the end of the day, no matter their age, the core lesson is the same: respect people, care about how they are feeling in your interactions with them, and remember that others have a right to feel differently than you do and to set boundaries for what is OK with them. The situations will change, but those words will be repeated again and again.

Teaching consent is not a one-time discussion. It's something I want my sons to think about every single day.

This story originally appeared on Ravishly and is reprinted here with permission. More from Ravishly: