Saturday morning at 11:00am, I decided that I had had enough. For about a month now, I've been doing it but not enjoying it. In fact, every single time I did it, I felt ill. It wasn't fun anymore. It was smelly. It was expensive. I was done.
I took two puffs of the cigarette, and then put it out. I've not picked one up since. Now, that's not to say that I've not wanted one. But it hasn't been an overwhelming need to have one because I cannot breathe without nicotine in my system. Plus I am so effing nauseous that the thought of a smoke makes me want to well...puke. For some ridiculous reason, my withdrawl from nicotine, tar, formaldehyde, etc...is extreme, horrid, nausea. I am on day 5 now, though, so hopefully the waves of "I'm gonna puke" will only last a day or two more. What makes someone go through this 4 times is absolutely beyond me. You'd think that someone would quit once, realize how friggen horrible it is to quit and never. ever. ever. pick up another cigarette again. There's something in our brain that forgets pain and agony though...I guess it's the same thing that makes us have more than one baby and stuff. Yes. Yes, I did just compare quitting smoking to pregnancy and labour and delivery.
Anyways, I totally decided that I was over smoking at the wrong time of the month, because not only am I going through withdrawl, I'm also feeling a tad PMS-ish. So not only do I feel like puking, but I feel like puking in your shoes because you're so annoying to me right now. Well, not you in particular...but someone. Someone's shoes.
*Someone* who calls me and tells me that his 'friend' is in town and she'll be picking Q up from school instead of me. On my day. Call me just a little bit crazy, but I'm not just going to step aside and let some woman pick up my son from school ("oh, but I thought you could sleep more if she picked him up...") So, I'm like crazy psycho detective momma...
me: "I don't really know how I feel about this. I mean, I don't know anything about her."
him: "Oh ya, totally. She's not comfortable with this unless you are. She feels the exact same way."
Okay...I'm not really sure she feels the EXACT same way as I do, seeing as how she didn't go through 24 hours of labour before pushing out a 10lb 6oz baby, you know. And she hasn't raised him for the past 6 years, but I can totally see how she feels EXACTLY how I do about this child.
me: Can I find out some stuff about her?
him: Oh ya, totally. Sure.
me: Okay, well how long have you known her?
him: Two years.
me: Where did you meet her?
him: On the internet.
Holy Shit. First of all, pulling teeth would have been a) faster and b) less painful. But *on the internet*, really? Do I really need to go through all the reasons why I should feel a little bit leery about someone he met on the internet looking after my child??? I know she's standing right by him while I'm asking the questions. I can totally picture them both rolling their eyes at me. But, um...hello...let's turn the tables here. I've just met a man on-line and he's come to visit me for a week, and I'm gonna have him pick up my son from school while I'm at work. Alarm bells, anyone? Why is it that just because she's a woman, I'm supposed to be all okay with it. Women can be serial killers too, can't they? I realize it's way less common, but I'm not going to just trust the safety of my child to some stranger.
In the end, I told them that I didn't feel comfortable with it. Not to mention, I was free and could totally pick my kid up. It was just easier for Mr. Ex. It just sucks that I'm always the bad guy. Q is in the background saying, "She's really super nice, mommy. It's okay." Kinda like the time Q told me that he needed his passport because he and daddy were going to an Island under Florida to meet one of daddy's friends who lives there. Uhhhh......no....no, I don't think you are. Turns out it was Costa Rica and it was his dental hygienist and they had no real *concrete* plans to visit. I don't know about you, but my hygienist has never ever once invited me to visit them in Costa Rica. I guess I'm going to the wrong dentist.
But no, I'm the bad guy. I'm the one who enforces the bed time. I'm the one who makes him read and reads him stories. I'm the one who makes the doctors appointments and dentist appointments and parent/teacher interviews. I'm the one who enrolls him in sports and school and makes him eat all his dinner. I'm the one who does all this stuff. Mr. Ex just shows up.
I don't let Q ride his bike in the house (!!) I don't have a completely empty living/dining room so we can play hockey in. the. house. I wonder how many times he hears "you're mean." Sometimes it just gets a little tiresome. Why do I have to be the responsible one all the time?
So, not really a good week to quit with the smokes. But really, when is a good time to quit? It would be really nice to release some of this angst.