Day Six: Mindfuckapalooza

Here I am smoke free for almost a whole week! Whoo hoo!

The novelty has worn off and now I am dealing with a whole host of uncomfortable feelings.

I spent A LOT of time smoking. A lot of time away from my family, not taking care of stuff that needed to be taken care of. A lot of time being distracted by wanting to have a smoke. A whole lot of time putting things off because I just wanted to sit down out in the garage, by myself, and have a cigarette.
I still think I (and every parent) deserve some "quiet moments" throughout the day. It's just now, instead of smoking, I go read in my room with the door closed. Of fold laundry. As long as I'm alone, I don't care which.

I used to blame that searing pain in my lungs during any cardio workout on the fact that "I wasn't ever going to be a marathon runner anyway". HA! I worked out for the first time today since quitting and I actually CAN make it through an hour class and not want to throw up.
It made me want to go for an actual run just to see how far I can go. Stay tuned.

I'm still finding myself getting a little pissed off that I committed to quitting so vociferously. I'll wonder why I had to tell all my friends and make such a big deal about it.

Then I remember that this is the exact BEST way for me to quit. I feel accountable. I hate to disappoint people. If nothing else, I will be quilted into quitting for good..

While I may always miss parts of smoking, I will never miss the physical need to smoke. I'm slowly getting past all my "triggers" to smoke. They were really burned onto my brain.

All the nicotine is long gone out of my system. It's the psychological part that is so hard.

I went back and reread that first post about how I thought the physical part would be the hardest. Not even close. The physical part was a breeze compared to the brain part.

This has been a really great confidence booster, to tell the truth. I am having to be so strong and use more willpower than I have EVER used. Ever. In my whole life.

It's pretty amazing.

Day Three: Have not killed anyone yet

I'm doing this!

37 hours and change

I decided to wait until I absolutely needed the patch thing before I put it on and, while I almost used one last night, I got past it.

The hardest part hasn't really been the physical withdrawal so much as the psychological replacement of smoking. I smoked more than I thought I did, that's for sure.

Phone call? Oh, I'll just take this out in the garage.
After dinner and dishes? I'll be back in a minute.
Kids are in bed? Gonna' go take a break.

The hardest to get past is my morning coffee/laptop/quiet time smoke(s). That was pretty much the start of every day. I'd go sit out in the garage and have my coffee and read my email, newspaper, etc. while I smoked before anyone else was up...then even after they were up. It's amazing how much more time I have to get shit done in the morning without the distraction of a smoke break.

I am having to find ways to keep myself busy so I don't miss that little break. I've had people tell me to still take that break, but just do something else. I'll probably get there eventually, but for now I have too much nervous energy to go sit in the garage. I have to be moving.

I've found cleaning/straightening up the house to be very cathartic. My house is going to be a mf'in showplace at this rate! I'm also doing a some Pilates moves I learned over the years, lifting these little 8 lb. hand weights, and/or doing sit ups to get past the cravings. It's all about the deep, steady breathing and busy work to keep my mind away from the smokes. Bad reality television makes for a great distraction as well.

Right now, there is this endless loop that goes through my brain.

I start to think, "time for a cigarette". Then I have to remember that I don't smoke anymore. And I get a quick, "dammit!" moment. Then it's gone.

Over and over and over.

As much as this sucks, the thing that is keeping me from buying anymore cigarettes is that I never want to have to restart this detox part. It's not as bad as I thought it would be. I literally pictured that scene from Trainspotting in head. No dead babies crawling on the ceiling yet.

I think I have just made myself so god damned focused on doing this. I refuse to fail. If I give myself an out, a "just in case", this will not happen. I am an all or nothing person. As much as I would LOVE to be able to sneak a puff here and there, I can't without risking having to do this all over again.

And, sweetbabyjesusonacross, I don't want to have to start over.

Warning: This is probably all I'm going to talk about for the next...forever

Oh Christ. I'm really doing this.


I'm going to quit smoking. I'm terrified.


It's been on my mind for some time now, but only recently did that feeling become more of an overwhelming urge to stop.


Part of it is that my husband quit right after New Year's Eve. He said he was going to quit on January 2nd, and he did. Just walked away and hasn't had one since (that I know of anyway. I choose to believe he's being truthful).


He's been dropping all kinds of hints that I need to quit as well. Naturally this pisses me off. You cannot tell a smoker to quit. It just doesn't work that way. We have to do it when we're damn well ready and all that harassment just stresses us out and makes us want another cigarette.


Which is totally a cop out, I know.


Another part of it is that the last pack of cigarettes I bought cost me almost 6 fucking dollars. For ONE pack of cigarettes. It just hit me that that is a ridiculous amount of money to spend on something that is dragging me kicking and screaming to the grave.


Mostly though, the truest reason I am quitting is for my kids.


Mina is just about at the age where the big time "Just Say No" stuff is being shoved down their throats at school. She knows what I'm out in the garage doing every few hours. It's "normal" to her. I don't like that.


Audrey is young enough that, if I quit now, she might not remember me as a smoker when she's older.


Since Illinois became a no smoking state, it's becoming more and more of a chore to go outside and smoke when I go out. I'm actually thankful for what some people are calling a violation of rights. Last I checked, smoking wasn't a right but I'm not going to pick. I'm glad it's inconvenient to indulge. It's part of what is going to help me quit for good.


Unlike ten years ago, most of my friends now don't smoke. That is going to help me immensely as well. Once I let the cat out of the bag, I know I am going to have tons of support. I'm going to ask them to hold me accountable.


I know that I have to quit before it gets really nice out. It's too easy to step outside for a smoke break when I want to be outside anyway. I want to break the habit before I'm tempted by the sunshine.


So, I went to Walgreens and walked right up to the pharmacist and told him that I want to quit smoking and could he talk to me about the nicotine replacement patches. I'm embarrassed to say that as I said those words to him, I choked up a little. I realized that this is very scary to me. I've smoked for a long long time. It's so a part of my day, of me, that I feel like I am being asked to hand over one of my arms.


The reason I picked the patches is that I think I can break the psychological part of smoking, but the physical withdrawal scares me. I don't want to feel irritable and bitchy for weeks at a time. I took all those happy pills before to fix that shit, and I have no intention of becoming that insufferable cunt again. I thought the patches could help me break the physical addiciton by weaning me off of it. I'm not even starting with the highest dose. I generally smoke less than a pack a day so he recommended starting with Step 2.


This whole process is supposed to take 8 weeks (6 weeks on Step 2, then 2 weeks on Step 1 then DONE).


I'm actually hoping that since I, for the first time since I started smoking (apart from pregnancy and breastfeeding when I had to), truly WANT to quit that I won't need this whole ordeal to take the full 2 months.


I know I'm probably getting ahead of myself here. I tend to get really excited when I start a new project.


Wish me luck! And please, please share stories of how you quit and how happy and wonderful the world is for you now.


I'm going to need all the help I can get.



***UPDATE:

That part of the post was written yesterday afternoon when I still had three or so cigarettes left in a pack. I knew they were my last three and I was panicking a bit.

It's now 13 hours and change since that last cigarette and I haven't felt the need to put on one of those patches yet.

I'm actually feeling pretty damn good. So far so good!

More updates to follow.

Braggart

I'm currently taking the second of the five classes I need to finish my Associates degree--three of which are math.

I'm not a huge fan of the numbers game, but I decided I would suck it up and plow through to get the piece of paper I've wanted to get for a looong time. I can't transfer back into ISU to get my four year degree without the math, so here we are.

When I went to take the placement test a few months ago, I only tested into the second lowest math class. No big shock there. I haven't taken a math class since high school unless you count the statistics class I passed by the skin of my teeth back at ISU.

Last week we took the fourth test of the semester. This one was supposed to be, in my professor's words, "the really tough one".

And what did I get on it?

95, bitches.

Ninety-frimframmin'-five.

Not only that but, because he decided to grade this test on a curve because of the "poor showing of grades", I found out that I had the highest score in the class.

Of course, Jim was quick to point out that I just fucked up the curve for everyone else. Somehow that made it all the more sweet. Is that mean? Do I care?

This is so unexpected. I never thought I would do well in a math class. The first three tests went fairly well but my grades have been steadily getting worse as we take each one. I got a 90, 88, then an 83. Naturally I expected that I would gradually get lower on this one.

But NOPE.

I'm just going to go ahead and congratulate the hell out of myself for the rest of the day. Who knows when this will happen again?

Not dead yet...

Once again, I have slacked on the ol' Bacon Blog. Didya' miss me?

Had a fantastic time at DisneyWorld!

We drove up Friday night and stayed at a hotel near the airport. It was a really nice place. We would have enjoyed it more if we didn't have to get up at like 3 o'clock in the morning to get ready for our flight.

We got to Orlando around 1pm on Saturday and checked into our super swank hotel. We were at the Magic Kingdom by 2.

It was so weird to just...go. With kids you need to plan and pack stuff and make sure everyone's gone to the bathroom and tell them to quit bickering or you'll turn the metaphorical car around, blah blah blah. That day, we just walked into the park and commenced the fun.

We stayed at that park until about 7, then headed over to Epcot. We'd never been there, so we didn't know what to expect. Um, I pretty much LOVE Epcot at night.

We headed straight for the World Showcase and located the Germany section. Somehow we lucked into a table for their dinner. Holy shit, was it good.

I got a beer flight (or is it a flight of beer?). Good food and great beer! What more could I ask for?

They seat you "family style" at this place, so you sit with people you don't know. There was a family at the end of our table that we didn't talk to, but across from us was an adorable couple that we chatted with the entire time.

Turns out they both work for Disney. One of the guys plays characters from Prince Charming to the Beast (of Beauty and the Beast). The other guy does mostly dancing in the parades at the MK and Hollywood Studios. At first, they were trying to be all coy about what their jobs were. I guess they aren't really supposed to talk about it out in "civilian" life but once the beer started flowing, all bets were off.

We told them we were coming back in December with the girls. They said we should get in touch with them (we're facebook friends now, natch) and they would set up some special treatment. I'm not going to count on it, but it would be over the top fantastic if all the stuff there were talking about (priority parade seating, personal meet and greets with the princesses) actually happens. I would love to blow the girls' minds with that.

Epcot closed at 8pm so we didn't get a chance to stay very long. I honestly didn't give a crap about the rest of the park. The liquor flows at Epcot and that alone made me a huge fan!

Sunday we decided to check out Hollywood Studios. Neither of us had ever been there either and we were excited to see what was going on there.

That place is amazing!

First we did the Star Tours ride and giggled like little kids. As you walk out of pretty much every ride, there is a gift shop. We had one of those pictures taken where they put your face into a different scene. If you're ever in my neck of the woods, go down to the shop and ask Jim to show you our Han Solo/Princess Leia portrait. It's genius.

We rode the Tower of Terror and I think Jim pooped his pants a little. It actually is terrifying. I loved it.

Then, the cherry on top of the whole trip: the Aerosmith Rockin' Rollercoaster.

Oh.Sweet.Jesus.

The cheese factor is off the charts. It's fantastic.

After you get through the line (Absolutely fastpass this bitch. The line can get outrageous), you are sent into the "recording studio". The band is rockin' out when their manager comes in to tell them they are late for their show. Oh, but what about all our "friends" here? Let's bring them, of course!

Cheese upon cheese. Perfection.

The coaster itself, while on the short side, is great. Like, really really great. You pretty much go from 0-60 in like two seconds. And you go upside down. When we were riding the second time my backpack come out from between my feet. When we stopped, I had a mini panic attack thinking it was lying somewhere in the deep recesses of Aerosmith land. Luckily it just slid over to Jim's feet.

We had lunch at the Sci-Fi drive in restaurant. You basically sit in cars and watch old science fiction movies while you eat. Kitschy and awesome.

Oh, and they serve drinks at this park too!

I saw that the American Idol Experience was open, so I had to check that out. I'm a huge dork for that show, so I wanted to see what this "ride" was all about.

Right before we got in line, Jim and I got these HUGE beers from a vendor and went to wait in line. Apparently they don't want you to drink while you wait in line for this, so we had to chug our beers before queuing up.

Let's just say that made the whole thing WAY funnier that it probably was.

We went to see this Indiana Jones show and little museum-y type thing about Walt Disney.

After that, we went back to Epcot and drank some wine in Italy and France. It was so pretty out there at night. We stayed for the fireworks, then it started to rain and we caught a cab back to our hotel.

All in all, we had a blast. Our kids think we went to "the beach". They also think "the beach" has a huge Disney store where we got all the gifts we brought back.

I cannot wait to take them back in December!

Two first class tickets to Hell, please.

I'm evil. And I love it.

Two days ago I was enjoying the spring-like weather. Something about the crack in the death grip of winter always gives me a new found motivation to to leave my house and get shit done.

I was reading an article on cnn.com about how Vegas is practically giving away hotel rooms and the airlines are following suit in the cheapness.

Just for the hell of it I looked up what it would cost to sneak out there this weekend for a quick and dirty getaway and was severely disappointed to find that we'd have to fly out of Seattle or LA to get these supposed "great deals". Bah!

I mentioned to Jim that it would be fun to go somewhere this weekend. The girls have Monday off and we could send them to his parents' house and take off.

And that is when things took a turn for the crazy.

You see, Jim knows a guy who can get free passes to Disney World.

Totally joking Jim said, "We should go there for the weekend and not take the kids."

After we stopped laughing maniacally we gave it some serious thought.

I didn't think he would really call that guy and see if we could get the passes, but sure as shit Jim called me an hour after he got to work to tell me that we would have them in hand in a couple of days.

Jim knows someone else that works for a hotel chain that happens to have a property about 2 miles from the Magic Kindgdom and whattaya' know? We can get a room there for next to nothing!

It all came down to airfare which, after all was said and done, cost more than I like to pay but this was so last minute I really can't complain. Considering the deal we are getting on the rest of our stay, I just decided to suck it up and pull the trigger.

We're going to tell them that we are going to Chicago...which is true. We are flying out of O'Hare. We aren't even telling his parents where we are going just in case they slip. They know we are catching a flight, but that's it.

All photographic proof of this trip will be hidden in a safe deposit box until our children are old enough to be charged as adults for stabbing us in our sleep for leaving them home.

This whole thing happened so fast and it is seriously fucking with my Type A personality.

I'm pretty excited, not just because we really dig going to Disney World, but also to actually be getting away--just the two of us. We never ever do stuff like this, but here we are.

Happy (almost) Spring!

Relatives and sex toys should never ever come up in the same conversation

In the infancy of my 21st year, some friends and I went to New York for our Spring Break.

I have family there who, at the time, lived on the upper west side. Super swank. And they voluntarily allowed us to stay with them. In fact they encouraged it. What were they thinking?

Each night, we'd all have dinner together and they would send the four of us out the door with subway tokens and a map.

"Have fun girls! Be back before dawn...if you feel like it."

We would scan the paper for any good bands playing and haul our gussied up selves to see them.

Naturally we had to hit CBGB's (RIP) and we also ended up at several other places I couldn't find on a map today if I tried. We made friends wherever we went and one night ended up at some dive on Avenue A smoking pot with some whacked out locals. That night I think we laid our collective heads on our pillows just as the sun woke up.

It was a fantastic time. My Aunt and Uncle took such good care of us and we all said a teary goodbye as the vacation ended.

I spoke with my Aunt when I got home and thanked her again for showing us such wonderful hospitality. She said that we forgot a few things at their apartment and she would be sending them to me shortly.

A couple weeks later the package arrived.

Someone left a shirt or something. Maybe there was a tube of mascara in there. My Aunt had also sent me a kick ass messenger bag and t-shirt she thought I would like (and she was right).

I had 7 roommates at the time. We lived in this enormous house and, believe it or not, we all had our own bedrooms. Most everyone was hanging out in the living room the day I got the package so they all watched me open it.

I was so excited about the cool shirt and new bag that I failed to notice the looks of horror and shock slowly taking over my roommates' faces.

I looked up and someone said, "So...your Aunt's pretty laid back, eh?"

"What do you mean?"

Then I looked down at the box.

And saw it.

There, resting gently in a sea of bubble wrap was an unwrapped, presumably used vibrator.

My first thought was that someone in our traveling gaggle had left it there, but who? No one fessed up.

My second and way more disturbing thought was that my Aunt sent it to me as a gift.

I didn't know which was worse: My Aunt handling my friend's vibrator or her thinking of me while cleaning out her stash (like I said, it wasn't packaged or wrapped as if it were new--it already had batteries in it!). Did she think I needed it?

I knew it wasn't mine. I would have said so right away, and I certainly wouldn't have left it at my Aunt's house. Come to think of it, I would not have brought it on (that kind of) vacation at all.

A few days later my Aunt called to make sure the package arrived, and I was terrified she would bring up the giant phallic elephant in the room.

She didn't.

I saw her two summers ago at my cousin's wedding and we email back and forth now and again. I really really want to ask her about it now that more than a decade has passed since the incident.

How exactly would one bring this type of subject up?