Did you ever read those little kids' books in the series "That's not my ____!" For example, one is "That's not my doggy!" and the jist of the book is that every page has a different doggy and says something like "That's not my doggy! He's too shiny." or "That's not my doggy! He's too fluffy" or whatever. Then the final page says, with a tone of relief I think, "that's my doggy! He's black and white" or whatever the real dog looks like.
Well, I've found myself saying recently when I'm tempted to jealously by seeing a woman my age with several kids, or hearing from friends who are stay at home moms and have time to do canning, or happening upon a blog of someone with stairstep children, or whatever: "That's not my life." And then I can remind myself of the life that is mine, how I have a great husband and a job I enjoy and a lovely little home, etc. It doesn't mean I still don't feel a pang of jealousy and longing, but using that line at least makes me chuckle a little.
Plus, it's true! That's not my life, as much as I wish it was. On the other hand, my life is also not one of deprivation or war or displacement or other horrible things; it reminds me to pray for those who are experiencing those sufferings and would give anything to have a simple, peaceful, safe life.
Also, something I find both comforting and challenging is that when I get to heaven, God is not going to ask me to account for either someone else's life (that I wished was mine) or a fantasy life that I lived in my head, but rather my actual life: how well did I love Mr. M? How well did I love my parents? How well did I love the children he did place in my life, nieces and nephews and friends' kids? If I died today, I wouldn't be asked to account how good a mother I was, since I'm not one. That's not my life.
Anyway, it's been a quick, helpful reminder to not compare, a way to handle jealousy, and to get back to the business of living my actual life right here at my fingertips.