Not sure if it is the short days, the frigid temps, the snow upon ice upon snow, the cabin fever, or the imminently possible return of AF, but this girl has a serious case of the winter blues and blahs.  It all came to a head this past weekend when I completely lost my cool over a bag of frozen peaches.  Yes.  Frozen.  Peaches.

Before you shake your head at me in disgust, let me just explain that the small bag of (organic) frozen peaches cost $2.99 and was for B's breakfast.  We have been having a terrible time getting him used to eating anything besides purees so my plan was to microwave the peaches, cut them into small bites, and have him eat them while I ate my own (non-organic) peaches.  I took the bag out of the freezer, tore off one corner, and then dumped a few slices into a bowl.  It was then when I realized that the bag had a huge tear on the other side and the quality of the product had definitely been compromised.  My blood pressure started rising and I could feel the building pressure of stress in my temples.  This wasn't going to be one of my proudest moments.

In a fury I ran into the living room and explained the situation to my husband, making sure to throw in a few choice curse words to describe Whole Foods, in the process.  My poor baby just kind of stared at me while I let my top blow.

"What the f*ck!?" I exclaimed.  "Can you believe that this expensive bag of peaches had a hole in it?  Should I throw it away or return it?"  I knew full well that neither response from him was going to be acceptable.  My poor husband was set up for failure from the beginning on this one.

"You should probably return it," he said calmly.

"They aren't going to let me return the bag when it is open on both sides!  When am I going to find the time to return it anyway?   Oh and where the hell is my freaking receipt?"  I was now almost in tears over these stupid peaches.  I threw my arms in the air and told him I was just going throw them away.  He told me to relax, which only fueled my angry frozen peach driven rage, and I made my way back into the kitchen and promptly threw the whole bag at the wall and the frozen peaches scattered about the sink, the counter, and the floor.

I collapsed onto the floor and started crying.  Big, angry, tears fell from my face.  "I need to go on a vacation," I cried.  "I need to get out of this house and away from everything for a week.  I really need a break."

"You don't need a vacation," my husband replied.

"Yes, yes, I do," I continued to sob as I started cleaning up pieces of peaches.  So what really sparked this major meltdown?  Was it really the peaches?  No.  It was the co-worker who I have talked about in many a previous post.  The one asked me if I was pregnant when I had just miscarried.  The one who got pregnant on the first try after smoking and drinking heavily her whole adult life.  The one didn't tell me that she was pregnant until she was over half-way through with her pregnancy even though I confided in her about my struggles.  The one who works for fun because her husband makes triple my husband's salary.  The one who goes on 4-5 tropical/European vacations a year.  The one with the (seemingly) perfect life.  Yes, that's her.  She caused my meltdown and she doesn't even know it.

Last week, she posted to our work vacation calendar that she is going to Turks and Caicos, the place that we were supposed to go but had to cancel due to an impending miscarriage.  She mentioned to me in passing that they will be staying at the Seven Stars Resort, the place where we were supposed to stay (but lost over $4000 because my 3rd baby was going to die).  She posted on FB about how she was so excited for her vacation and was busy getting her perfect baby (who sleeps 11 hours straight a night, by the way) a passport.  I heard her explaining to another co-worker about how they were paying for her MIL to come and watch the baby while they went and had fun.  Thinking of all of the beautiful pictures that she would soon paste on her FB wall was just to much for me to handle.  Thinking of my family and me.  Stuck at home.  Trapped in the house by the snow and snowstorm after snowstorm.  Doing the same stuff over and over again with no fun vacation or even a break in sight.

I promptly did what I should have done many months ago...

I unfriended her (along with 150 other "friends").  There.  I showed her (and the rest of "them").  

It felt good for a few minutes, but then the sadness and anger crept back in again because even though I no longer have to look at her blatant show of fun and wealth, I know that it is still happening.  They'll be snorkeling while I am sitting at my desk typing and slaving over my next project.  They'll be walking barefoot on the beach while I am trudging to and from the train in feet of snow, slush and ice.  They'll be out enjoying dinner and cocktails together while I am eating dinner by myself in front of the TV while my husband is at CrossFit for 2 1/2 hours.

The jealousy has crept back in.  Ugly and ruthless, as ever.  In my SADD (or potentially PMS) state, the pangs of jealousy that used to be saved exclusively for pregnant people are now back in full force and they are threatening to wreck my sanity once again.  The treadmill that I used to run on for fun an hour a day, I now step on at 4:40 AM every day and don't get off until I lay my head down for 3 hours of sleep starting at 9 PM.  Something has got to change.  I haven't figured out what I need to change, how I am going to change it, or when I am going to start, but I know that I cannot keep this up for the foreseeable future.  I won't make it and my poor family will disown me.  Until then.  Deep breathes.  In and out.