Let’s rewind to before I became a mom. Sitting at my desk at work, my co-workers and I swapped stories about great movies we just saw, fabulous vacations, interesting plays and dinners and just random stuff from our adult (child-free) lives.

When you’re one of the few people in your work environment who has a kid or even if you’re one of the first in your group to have a baby, there’s yet another mommy adjustment that must be made. After taking time off with baby, you slip back into your chatty roles in the office, except you haven’t been to a movie in ages, your last vacation was a water park at the Wisconsin Dells and the only play you’ve attended is where you were the puppet master.

There seems to be two options that lie before us: Share what you’ve got or listen more than you contribute. Along the sharing route, there’s an interesting line in the sand that’s been drawn. Sure you were amazed when little Clara rolled across the room by herself, but do they get what a feat that is? Can they appreciate the miracle of her sleeping in until 8 a.m.? And should you really subject them to the story about the diaper blowout at Target that was so bad, you walked out wearing a plaid dress from clearance and your Clara sporting a diaper and nothing else?

I don’t think I’ve shared any poop stories and I try to limit my Logan ones because I know that BC (Before Child) I didn’t really care to hear about the details of my friend’s kids lives. Yet there are times I catch myself talking too much about Logan, you can tell when you’ve gone on too long because the courteous smile on their face begins to look a little forced, pained even and their eyes get vacant. I abruptly stop, switch it up and ask them a question about their life.

It’s just an interesting situation actually and I think we all find our own way navigating through it. Part of me thinks it’s a bit sad that I don’t feel like gabbing about all things concerning Logan at work, but when I step back and look at it objectively, I don’t talk much about work with my mommyfriends. When I do that, there’s that familiar forced smile, vacant look and I quickly ask about little Johnnie.