Envy

There’s the guy, that’s always with his kids, at the park, the pool, the ice rink, the beach. He plays with them, tirelessly, packs healthy snacks that are not only fun to eat, but delicious, knows when and how to change the baby, on the picnic table seat, and rivals me in the ability to do said activity while said child is standing, squirming, totally focused on anything other than standing still. He has three kids. Two adorable little girls, and a boy, that gets along famously with his Evil Twin, er, my little guy.

And, an adorable wife.

Nope, I’m not lusting after him.

It’s something far sinister in nature.

I seethe with envy, total unbridled jealousy everytime I see them. Especially when they’re together.

She’s your typical high-powered paycheck, who not only excells at her job, but thrives; as the munchkins do in Daddy’s care. They’re the typical well-balanced couple - beyond your syrupy sweet I Can Finish His Sentences stage, and into the They Obviously Communicate Smug Affectionate Couple.

I hate them.

Or more specifically, I truly enjoy their company, and their children, but I despise being reminded, so vividly, of what I thought I was getting, and the family I thought I was creating. I wanted to be the one pushing the swing, while manning the slide, and calling out over the soccer fields, waiting for Mr. Damn Near Just Shy Of Fucking Perfect came out after work to meet me. With a bag full of cut baby carrots, and fresh strawberries, washed and hulled. He’d dole out juice boxes and margarita’s (in a handy dandy carry mug) with equal aplomb, taking over the pushing and slide management, so he didn’t miss out on the fun.

Along with all that, comes a beyond healthy dose of Guilt, Shock and Disgust at my own shortcoming, for being envious of a relationship I truly want to emulate one day - only, I’ll be a brunette, and not her dirty-something-or-other-blonde. She’s genuinely caring, nice, open, friendly. He’s a genuinely nice guy, thoughtfull, nurturing, clued into his emotions and stuff.

He even stocks MY brand of juice boxes in his pack.

So today, when I spotted them at the pool, as did my gf, with her kids, she watched me interact with them (their youngest cannot get enough of me) and asked me later when I was going to finally get over my Family Envy. I’d have it some day. With the right guy. And no, she didn’t think they’d even have a clue, it’s only because she’s known me for seven plus years that she even picked up on it, which makes me feel both better and worse. Better, that maybe, they really don’t have a clue, and worse, that Family Envy is still rearing it’s ugly head.

Funny thing is, it’s only this family.

So maybe, I’m supposed to be the high-powered paycheck, and he’s supposed to stay home with the kids? I’m not entirely sure. All I know is, if I ever step foot in their house, and he pulls out margarita’s, already made and frozen, hands me one in a travel mug, I might just give up entirely and live in the land of the Seriously Jealous, instead of the Insanely Envious.