Lindsay King-Miller

We’re always hardest on people who give into our own worst impulses, and I see my own shadow in those parents. I’m an over-sharer too.

People talk about skin care like it’s fun — a way to relax. But for me, the very idea opens onto a black hole of self-loathing.

I just tell my daughter the truth about my period: I have PMS, my back is killing me, and we’re going to eat a lot of chocolate.

For queer parents like me, meanwhile — although I know that my whiteness and my class affords me a degree of protection from scrutiny and interference — the threat of being deemed an illegitimate parent also serves to silence any discussion of mixed feelings.

I keep waiting for the wane of the “gender reveal party,” one of the most widely-disparaged-on-social-media parenting trends.