Friday, October 28, 2011

Pork Chops with a Side of Envy

In case you were wondering about yesterday's pork chops, Evan said they were awesome.  He and the boys wolfed them down.  Apparantly they are especially good with garlic mashed potatoes.

Not that I would know this firsthand, since my darling husband didn't even save me a taste of said "awesome" pork chops that his darling wife had made for him even though she was going to be at work and wouldn't be able to enjoy them with her family yet still decided to gift wrap a supper for them complete with broccoli already chopped up and ready to go in the steamer and a blue Post-It with specific instructions for the teeny tiny bit of prep work he had left to do to get a delicious meal on that table while I was stuck wearing pantyhose and an unflattering men's shirt and serving people coffee and eating a grilled chicken salad since I apparently still look 9 months pregnant after having a baby 8 weeks ago but who's really counting and getting upset about what that stupid customer said?

I'm sorry.  Where was I?

Yeah, so apparently the chops were good.  Whatever.  Get the recipe here, try them yourself, and then you can be the second one to tell me how yummy they are.  You're welcome.

Moving right along....

Jessica wrote an amazing post at InCourage this morning.  It was the kind of post that immediately hit me right where it hurts and connected with me.  She wrote about jealousy.  Holy Hannah, do I struggle with jealousy. 

There is this woman who comes into the restaurant with her family every so often and she looks AMAZING when she's pregnant.  No, that picture isn't of her, but it's the same kind of concept.  I mean, this chick can strut in wearing 4 inch heels with her 3 year old and 2 year old in tow and she is rocking that preggo belly like it's a Prada bag.  Girl looks incredible.  Don't even get me started on how drop dead gorgeous she is when she isn't growing life in her midsection.  See?  I'm doing it again.  I get so jealous of that woman every time she's in.  I immediately start comparing how when I'm pregnant, I swell up like a sponge and gain a third chin versus how she looks like she's just got a basketball discretely hidden under her form fitting top that accent her still perky boobies.

Jealousy is tough stuff and Jessica's post mentioned so many of the nasty little covetous things that go through my head more often than I care to admit:

"She is skinnier than me.
Look at that outfit, she must be rich.
I wish our house would sell fast like their’s did."

I would probably also have to add things like:

Her house is always so clean.  What I wouldn't give to be that on top of things.

She is a much better mom than I am.  Her kids are perfect!

Why is it they get to take family vacations to all these amazing places?  I wish we could afford to go somewhere half as nice.

That's just the tip of the iceberg.  And you know what?  If we're being totally honest here, blogging doesn't help.  On many an occasion, I have felt that green fire of jealous broiling up in my gut from reading Jessica's blog.  She gets to travel to so many cool places for her "real job" as well as her blog.  Jealous.  I can literally feel my hair curling when I read Erin's blog.  She just seems so perfect, friends.  She's gorgeous, thin, has an incredible house, drives a brand new Honda Odyssey Touring Edition, shops at Anthropologie, wears cute boots, and travels on shopping trips to New York City with her husband. And then there's her HAIR!!!

Again, I could go on and on.  Sure, blogging is a great way to vent, to share ideas, to journal, and to connect with others.  It's also a dangerous gateway to Jealousy Land.  Pinterest can do this to ya too, if you're not careful! 

In the meantime, I'm going to go shuffle through my cluttered house (that's messy because we're blessed to have a home and stuff to put in it) and throw in a load of laundry (in the washer and dryer I'm blessed to own) since I've worn the same shirt for three days in a row now (since I'm blessed to have several more items of clothing I can wear in the meantime) and get ready for work (because I'm blessed to have a job that's flexible enough to still let me be a full-time mom to these crazy kids). 


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