When I was a FTM, newly PG. I became addicted to an message board on very popular site for moms. I called them "the boards" and would frequently begin conversations with my husband by saying, "Well, the girls on the boards say..." He begged me to quit. But I was addicted. I found it deeply therapeutic to immerse myself in world of women talking and griping about cervical fluid, mucous plugs and who was gaining the least pregnancy weight. It was only after the pregnancy hormones exited my body, and my baby was six months old, did I finally break myself of the habit. The world of online forums is an entire culture of it's own with it's own rules, etiquette and language. Here is a brief primer to the most relevant acronyms.
As a mom to a young toddler, I do all the normal, every day parenting things that other parents do, for the most part. I abide by most of the widely accepted parenting rules. I care for my daughter. I show her love. I keep her safe. But I admit that I sometimes do some quirky things and bend some rules when no one is around.
If I could ban one word from mom lexicon it would be the word "back" as in, "I'm back to my pre-baby body!" Or, "When will I fit back into my pre-pregnancy jeans?" The word itself contains a lie that things can be the same as before. That once you grow a fully-formed human being and then squeeze all eight pounds of him out of your birth canal, that you can just go "back" to the way things used to be.
From PMS to pregnancy to menopause, hormones those messengers of womanhood can affect everything from your complexion to your mood to the size of your midriff. Here are at least 9 things you can blame on hormones.
We all love our moms, but it took becoming a mom for me to realize just how many sacrifices my mother made for us and how hard she worked. Now following in her footsteps with three kids of my own, I'm looking back and thanking her for the ways she showed me love and the things she taught me about motherhood.
My daughter is two-going-on-crazy and, while I do my best not to raise my voice at her, I frequently find myself yelling the most bizarre things. And inevitably, after I yell something like, "Pickles don't go in my bra!" She looks at me and asks, "Why?"
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