I am reading a blog when my three-year-old, Adelaide, asks me to take a splinter out of her thumb. So I use my tweezers and dab on the Neosporin and send her off with a band-aid and a motherly warning to be more careful.
Sitting down at the computer again, I go back to the blog. The more I read, the more tense I get. The writer is younger than I am, smarter than I am, prettier, more successful, better-traveled, richer, living her dream life, all while getting loads of comments on her blog.
Just last night, I was telling Kyle that the older I get, the less I compare myself to others. But today, I fell victim to my own insecurities. Reading this girl’s blog, I found myself questioning all my decisions. I felt embarrassed to be alive.
Because, you know, I am clearly failing.
With a sigh, I click the x on the blog’s tab. Out of the corner of my eye, I see August put something into his mouth, and he starts gagging. Being a baby, Augie gags pretty easily, but I instantly see that this is different, and he is starting to choke.
I sit down next to him, put my finger in his mouth, and swipe it around. I don’t feel anything in there, but he’s still choking. About three seconds pass, and I’m still feeling his mouth, pulling him onto my lap, and thoughts are filling my mind at once: What is he choking on? Do I need to do the Heimlich maneuver? Do I need to call 911? If he stops breathing, there would be no time for an ambulance. What would I do if I lost him?
Then Augie spits up some milk and coughs, and a band-aid falls out of his mouth.
I just hold him tight and kiss his head. I feel like crying, but the tears don’t come. I think, how could I ever be jealous of anyone else when I have you?
This job is so important. It means more to me than youth or beauty or money. I am not saying that I am any better than the girl, but I am no worse, either.
I have everything that I need.
I never want to lose sight of that. I hate that I ever lose sight of that.
And this is why I don’t read blogs.