Author: Wilder Zandonella

Sometimes I Hate Being a Mom

There are so many great things about being a mom. In fact, being a mom is now one of my  favorite ways to identify myself. I feel a sense of in-explainable pride when talking about my children to other people. Sure, millions and millions and millions of other women are moms too, but sometimes I just feel like the most special woman in the world because I am a mom to these two special little boys.  It really is magical. Let’s get real for a minute here. Sometimes, I simply hate being a mom though.  The desire to write this blog post came in and incredibly frustrating moment for me as I was ‘moming’ after work yesterday. Maybe this is a bias post because of the way I was feeling in that moment, but damn, do I really hate being a mom sometimes. I look forward to picking my kids up from daycare each and every day. I get a physical excitement within me, which makes me anxious to get there and see them. My oldest is 3, and the joy that comes across his face when he sees me (as he sprints across the room) is like no feeling I have ever experienced before. We get the baby, get out to the car, and then all hell breaks loose. It is obvious to me in this moment that...

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Mom vs. Mom: Something to Prove

Have any of you other moms noticed there seems to be this subtle mom vs. mom thing that happens between us? To me, there is this way that moms sometimes interact with moms they don’t know. Take for example my experience from just last week. I was at the grocery store having a kid-free shopping experience. My-oh-my how different that is than the experience of shopping with children in tow. That is probably another post for another time, but ah, the freedom. Anyways, back to my story. I noticed another mom in the store with a baby in his/her car seat that appeared much younger than my soon-to-be six month old. She was quietly pushing the cart with the baby through the store, piling all of her groceries to the point it was almost overflowing. I noticed how calm she was, and how her experience seemed rather peaceful. She happened to get in line behind me as I was finishing checking out. Any of you moms that have shopped with children in tow know how quick you just want to be done at the store. I very pleasantly offered to help this woman unload her groceries onto the belt. She politely declined my offer. I then offered the fact that I was a mother of two also, and that I understood how hard it can be at the store sometimes....

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Thriving at Three

Having children has been the biggest accomplishment in my life. I am sure that most parents feel the same way. I look at both of my boys and feel and overwhelming sense of joy, pride, and love. It can be all-consuming in that moment, my god. I’m actually smiling writing this thinking how much I love these boys. My three-year old has to be the most handsome little guy I have ever laid eyes on. He’s incredibly smart, has an amazing memory, is inquisitive, caring, loving, funny, loves to color and draw circles, and knows all too well how to navigate YouTube kids. I absolutely take one look at him and think yup, he’s thriving at three. You know what else he is thriving at? He is testing the limits all day long, every day, about everything possible, and it is starting to drive me nuts. Yup, my three-year old is thriving at driving me nuts. This is the same old love story. You have all heard it a million times. “If you think terrible two’s are bad, just wait until three.” Yup. Fact. Hate to jump on the negative train here and sound like I’m bashing my kid, but three is fucking hard. I start every day with a positive attitude, just hoping we will have a good day where I don’t think to myself, “I would love to just walk...

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The Battle with the Breast Pump

The struggle is real. Ohhhh the struggle is real. I feel like I should hashtag that. Anyways, the battle with the breast pump continues to be a source of daily stress in this working mama’s life. It’s a battle worth fighting for me and my boy, because I am at a place in mine and my son’s life where I would like to feed him breast milk as much as possible. He is not exclusively breastfed, and has not been since week 6. Go ahead, judge me a little if you want. I struggle with what I would imagine...

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Dear Rude Complementary Lady

Hi, my name is Wilder. Do I have a sign on my head that gives you permission to talk about my body? I do not know you, and you do not know me. We had a quick exchange at a fundraiser, but only because your friend was being a B, and felt the need to talk down to my friends and I about us apparently taking the table she had reserved. You then proceeded to tell me how beautiful I was, and then ask if I was pregnant. Nope. Not even close. But I did just have a baby a few weeks ago. A few being 12, which honestly is not that long ago. It was like yesterday actually. I don’t know why because your friend was being a total B, that you then felt it necessary to divert the attention to me, and my post-pregnancy, apparently pregnant looking body. Do you know how long I looked for a dress today that I would feel comfortable wearing? For the exact reason you noticed, I really did not want to wear a fitted dress. But I couldn’t find anything else I liked, and everything I own cuts me in the gut funny. My husband told me I looked great, and that everyone knows I just had a baby and will think I look great too. Why do I even care...

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