Woman About the Internet

By Drew Zandonella-Stannard

I am a writer, mother, and decent human being living in Seattle, Washington. My monthly newsletter pairs perfectly with the everyday and the End of Days. I think you're swell.

I am a writer, mother, and decent human being living in Seattle, Washington. My monthly newsletter pairs perfectly with the everyday and the End of Days. I think you're swell.

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Issue 48: listen I love you joy is coming

2020 was the year we all became unstuck in time. The days run together now, identified by an intricate series of calendars and alarms I employ to mark our passage towards whatever is on the other side of this thing. While toddlers thrive on routine, their con…


Issue 47: I wanted electricity to go everywhere in the world

Frida lumbers down the hallway every morning just before dawn, her sleepy, stumbling gait giving her away before she manages to make her way to my side of the bed. I can count the number of times she’s slept through the night in the last two years. It’s such …


Issue 46: The Burdens of Being Upright

I’ve been waiting a year for Frida to choose to walk. I say “choose” because at a certain point it became clear that she most likely could, she just wasn’t interested. She was busy memorizing every object in the house or bossing the dogs around or asking me i…


Issue 45: Introducing The Good List

Being immunocompromised with a history of chronic respiratory infections, I’ve found myself uncomfortably straddling two categories that make me particularly at risk during our present pandemic. This time last month I was questioning whether or not it would b…


Issue 44: Titling it "The Problem That Has No Name" seemed a bit heavy handed

The last time Jacob and I had more than an hour alone to do anything together besides stare lovingly at our screens I asked, “well, what the fuck do we do next?” With degrees, a marriage, a mortgage, and a kid we’ve hit all of the outdated traditional markers…


Issue 43: The Beasts of New England

To my credit, I did wait until the woman who glared at my wailing toddler while throwing hastily packed handleless paper bags into our cart was out of earshot. I assure you that the feeling was mutual. My meltdown had been brewing for weeks, but in a single m…


Issue 42: My AOL Username was ChickSeattle

I’m hoarding my feelings again. I was going to tell you that I haven’t been able to write because I have nothing to say but of course that’s not true at all. I’ve had no trouble pouring myself into lengthy Instagram stories that have nothing to do with how I …


Issue 41: All The Teeth You'll Ever Need

The dentist is my age and a little nervous, but very handsome. Handsome in a way that makes me question if I’m comfortable with him rooting around inside of my mouth with sharp instruments. I stop myself from asking if he remembers a particular episode of MTV…


Issue 40: It's Not a Spaceship, It's a Time Machine

I spent the early weeks at home watching the baby monitor like a favorite television show while stuffing food into my mouth or starting and abandoning loads of laundry. Frida slept and slept and slept during the day but refused to rest at night unless she was…


Issue 39: Bodily Autonomy is Hard When You Grew Someone’s Body

Last week I stood in front of an overflowing closet packed full of cloth. Dishcloths, burp cloths, cloth diapers, and washcloths. Hand towels, bath towels, and guest towels. Sheets and pillowcases. Even a small collection of curtain panels. The portion of the…


Issue 38: Close Your Eyes, Mister Peepers

These days we hum along to the same handful of children’s songs, inserting our own lyrics without realizing it. The soundtracks of the baby devices that surround us are the worst offenders, massaging our neural pathways until we’re both singing the siren song…


Issue 37: He Sees You When You're Sleeping

Christmas Eve ended in tears, with my mothers finally breaking the news that while Santa was not a real person (nor a dangerous criminal), the “spirit of Christmas” was very much alive and well and that I shouldn’t ruin it for other children who wanted to bel…


Issue 36: Spooky, Scary

My first move, of course, was to determine the source, all while not letting on that anything was amiss. “Look at you!” I said as if being handed a great gift. But really, there’s nothing scarier than watching a toothless infant cackle with blood caked around…


Issue 35: One Thousand Lactating Monkeys

I took a year of Old Norse in college, which mostly consisted of me poorly translating myths and mispronouncing ancient curse words three times a week. One of the only legends still knocking around in my brain is the story of Thor being tricked into performin…


Issue 34: Good Linen

My decent bedclothes had already been spit up on and I was left to don the robe I’d stolen from the hospital when the baby was born. The tablecloth came into play once she vomited approximately one gallon of half-digested milk onto the mattress. The back up s…


Issue 33: Nursing the Band

A few days before Frida was born I dragged my very pregnant body to hear Anne Lamott speak and she referenced the quote above. Now, after six weeks spent doing the same four things over and over again in a newborn haze, I realize that it applies as much to pa…


Issue 32: Frida May Moon

“Your wound will be purple, but don’t worry, it’s just the glue,” the OB bellowed over the dropped curtain, my baby giving her best newborn battle cry from the warming tray they’d escorted her to. I wondered if suture colors were something I could choose, lik…


Issue 31: Just Two People Who Like Warm Rolls

This pregnancy continues to be my warm roll, repackaging what is broken and confusing into a neat assortment of symptoms that people are used to accommodating:I’m exhausted. I can’t lift that. I need a restroom. I’m in pain.I was given the indelicate gift of …


Issue 30: Toni Braxton-Hicks

I’ve never met a message board community that I didn’t immediately become inappropriately invested in. I’ve written about scrolling through the threads of scent aficionados and Disney fans. I’ve described my time delving into the greasy world of Yahoo Answers…


Issue 29: A Small Otter, a Croque en Bouche

The more pregnant I get the more very sweet, well-intentioned people ask me what aspect of impending motherhood I’m most excited about. I really need a stock answer to this question, as I typically blurt out something along the lines of, “oh I’m just taking i…