i don't even know if this counts as a confession, like, it's not a secret secret, but it feels like one? and i feel like i can't tell anyone in real life because they'd just look at me like i'm a crazy person. or a bad dad. and that's the worst part. i was at the park today. it was sunny, you know? and i took my kid, Leo, he's two, almost three. and he loves the swings. he laughs like it's the funniest thing in the world. and i love that. i really do. but then, other parents show up. and other kids. and it just… turns into this whole other thing. there was this other mom, i guess she was a mom, with her kid. and her kid was Leo's age, i think. maybe a little older. and her kid was wearing like, brand new everything. shiny sneakers, a little designer hoodie, it even had a tiny embroidered animal on it. and Leo... Leo was wearing his cousin's old jeans. again. and a t-shirt with a faded dinosaur that’s too big in the shoulders but too short in the belly. and it's not like, dirty or anything. it's just... worn. you can tell it's been worn a lot. and patched once, by me, because i'm trying to learn how to sew better. it's just, obviously not new. and i felt like, everyone knew. like it was screaming "HAND-ME-DOWN KID" in neon letters. and it’s not just the clothes. it’s like, their kid was talking in full sentences. like, "Mommy, can we go on the slide next, please?" and Leo, he mostly just points and says "Up!" for the swings. or "Ball!" for the ball. he's not really stringing words together like that yet. and i try to do those flashcards and we read books every single day, every day, and i talk to him all the time. but it feels like... he's behind. and i know they say every kid is different, but like, when you're there, and you see it, you just... compare. you can't help it. and i felt this hot, like, BURNING shame in my chest. like it was my fault. the other mom, she looked at Leo, and then she kinda smiled at me. and i tried to smile back, but i could feel my face doing something weird. like it was freezing up. and she said, "Oh, he's so cute!" and i said, "Thanks, yours too!" and then she went back to her kid, who was counting to ten. TEN. Leo can count to three. sometimes. and i just wanted to grab Leo and run. i felt so pathetic. like i was failing him. i think maybe it's because i stay home. all day. and i see other parents who have these fancy jobs, and they come home and they're all dressed up, and their kids have all the newest toys and everything. and i'm just here. drawing. trying to make my art stuff work, but it's not really bringing in money yet. and i feel like i'm leeching off my partner. even though they say it's fine. and i know they mean it. but i still feel it. like i'm not contributing enough. and that translates to Leo. like i'm not providing enough for him either. it's just this constant buzz in my head. are his shoes too small? is he eating enough veggies? why isn't he talking more? did i do enough today? and then i see these other kids, and their parents, and it’s like they have it all figured out. and their kids are like, perfect little specimens. and i just feel so... small. and inadequate. i picked Leo up and we went home early. and he was confused. he kept saying "Swings! Swings!" and i felt even worse. like i ruined his day because of my own stupid feelings. and now i'm just sitting here, after he's asleep, looking at pictures of those other kids on the internet. like, what do they DO? what's their secret? am i the only one who feels like this? like, at the park, or anywhere, just constantly measuring up and always falling short? i don't know. it's just so heavy. every single day.