Jealous? Me?

I wouldn't consider myself a jealous person.
I've never been called a jealous woman.
It's not really an attribute I identify with.

Except...

I am beginning to realize that I have one small, but very passionate jealousy.
It's small. Doesn't take up a lot of space. Can be hidden when not wanted to be seen.

It gets more attention than me. It gets looked at and seen more than me. It gets heard more than me. It might even get coddled and cared for more than me.

My girlfriend hates her family dog because she feels her husband pays so much more attention to the dog than to her.

My jealousy is against an inanimate object. It rings and buzzes and beeps. No tail wagging or drooling or licking.

I’d like to throw it against the wall and watch it break into a million pieces. It brings out the mean, vindictive side of me.

I think I can actually say, “I hate it.” Strong words, I know (especially for my mother).

But I do. I hate it. And I am jealous of the attention it gets over me and the kids.

So I guess I am a jealous woman after all…