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I envy you.

But I can’t say it to your face. I don’t want to say it to your face.

You’ll just hit me with a “But you’re doing such a wonderful job!” and perhaps a “I would give anything to stay at home with my baby” or a “I couldn’t do what you do”. I don’t want feedback. I don’t want reassurances that I’m doing okay. I just want to tell you that I envy you.

I’m jealous that you get to get away from home, away from your baby, in capable hands. I’m jealous that you get to work and for those hours not be within earshot of screaming, tantruming babies who apparently just want to be held all day. I’m jealous that you get to talk to people. I’m jealous that you get to drive alone without having to worry about unbuckling and buckling two little humans into their seats where their straps ALWAYS seem to need to be adjusted. I’m jealous that you can have a sip of coffee and sit for a second and revel in the silence that is baby freedom. I’m jealous that you get to go to the bathroom without rushing because you know one or both of your babies are attempting to launch themselves off the couch and onto the hardwood floor. I’m jealous that you can take more than 3 bites of food without a baby needing you or crying for you or waking from a nap.

I just envy you. But I’m sure you envy me too.

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