This week a simple silver bracelet soothed my soul. Let me explain.
When I brought my third baby home from the hospital, I expected to feel many things over that first year. Overwhelmed. Over tired. Over wrought. As well as exhilarated, content and deliriously happy.
All that I expected.
But you know what I didn’t expect? You know what I didn’t see coming?
Envy.
Tell me, where in all those bloody baby books is the chapter on the wild-eyed jealousy you’ll feel towards anyone who has the ability to leave the house at random? Where’s that chapter?
Or maybe it’s just me.
I’ve shuffled through the past nine months, chronically sleep-deprived in baby spew-laden pyjama tops acting as a personal assistant to three children under six and if I’m going to be honest, I’ve had unexpected pangs of industrial strength envy towards my beautiful, talented friends.
The friend who is currently on a major work trip to NEW YORK.
The friend who is planning a family holiday to Europe.
The friend who just signed a major book deal.
The friend who goes to movies and cocktail parties and weekends away on a whim.
The friend who’s been (deservedly) rewarded with a huge promotion.
The friend who took my place on a fabulous Mamamia assignment because I, you know, had a fourteen-week-old croupy newborn at home.