I swear I’m the only one.
Everyone else seems to be able to get ready in the morning, or at least not wear the same sweats for the fifth day in a row. Everyone else seems to be able to brush their teeth in the morning.
Everyone else seems to be able to keep their house clean, or at least get themselves to do chores, or get other shit done that needs to be done.
Everyone else seems to be able to get themselves to work out. Go for a six mile run while pushing the stroller. Go for a bike ride. Leave the house at all.
Everyone else seems to get time to themselves. Has scheduled time to themselves. Does productive shit when they have time to themselves.
Everyone else seems to sleep through the night. They’ve been sleeping like there’s not a baby in their house since said baby was a month old. They don’t need to nap during the day because they get plenty of sleep while baby sleeps a 12 hour stretch.
Everyone else seems to be able to just set their baby down in their crib, wide awake, walk away, say goodnight, shut the door behind them, and then enjoy hours of alone time or partner time before their own bedtime. It doesn’t take them an hour to rock and nurse their baby to sleep, and then have at least one failed attempt at putting baby down in the crib, starting the process all over. Then in the morning, THEY wake up their baby.
Everyone else seems to have healthy and meal-planned meals three times a day with two perfect snacks for their baby/toddler. The baby/toddler eats it all and hasn’t been on the boob all day and doesn’t throw anything on the floor.
Everyone else seems to have taught their one-year-old not just words, but ASL. They only allow them 30 seconds of screen time a week.
Everyone else seems to have help. Or a village. Parents in town. In-laws in town. In the state.
Everyone else seems to not give a shit about the pandemic or social distancing or masks.
Everyone else. Everyone else.
I’m silently crying, rocking my baby to sleep for the second time tonight because he woke up 30 minutes after I put him down after he only took one one-hour nap today, after he barely seemed to eat any of his meals yet nursed every other ten minutes for the 477th day in a row, after he woke up at 530am again even though he went to bed at 830 or 9pm last night, after he slept in bed with us for the fourth month in a row.
Not that I’m complaining.
I’m just thinking that I can’t be as alone as I feel.