5 Months, 8 Days, 14 Hours……….

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since I lit up and smoked my last¬†cigarette, according to my handy-dandy¬†QuitIt app.¬†If you’re a former smoker, you understand what the last few months of my life have been like.

It’s hard to believe as a 12-year-old, I thought smoking was oh-so-cool. Now, as a woman turning 45 this year, I regret lighting up that first cigarette. Let me clarify: I DID NOT smoke from 12 until 44. I didn’t ¬†join in as a ‘real smoker’ until I was around 15 or 16. My friends did it. My parents were chain smokers. It was a part of my world for as long as I can remember.

Another thing I remember is getting car sick on long road trips with my parents as they smoked. Looking back, I don’t know why they didn’t crack or roll down the windows during those endless miles. My complaints weren’t met with the obvious reaction. Instead, we’d pull into the nearest rest area so I could get somewhat of a break, as they continued to smoke.

I also remember learning in school, ¬†cigarettes would kill my parents. I rectified that situation by throwing away newly purchased cartons of cigarettes. Problem solved, right? Uh no! More like I ended up in trouble. I was worried about my parents but it was still a time where the Marlboro man was cool and smoking was just the thing to do. My parents weren’t concerned with the years worth of damage ¬†smoking was doing to their health. In fact, my mom ended up on an oxygen machine during the last few years of her life. Ironically, the first time I went over to see her and the new oxygen machine, she was sitting in bed smoking!

I will admit, I was the adult smoker, puffing away, warning the younger generation of the perils of the nicotine addiction. One of my most ironic and sad memories relating to smoking is: A good friend of mine, who use to babysit my daughter, was outside, you guessed it, smoking, when I arrived. I did what any good smoker does and lit up a cigarette to join her. Tears streamed down her face as she delivered the bad news: her grandmother had been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. My heart sank and clenched with pain for my friend and her family, even as we both puffed and puffed away. Despite the news, neither one of us thought, it’s time to quit smoking.

Fast forward a few years. My daughter is in elementary school and has asked me to accompany her class on a field trip to one of our state parks. Sure, why not, I think. It’s Spring, the weather is perfect and I’d never been to this particular park. Yeah, lemme tell you. Little did I know her teacher and the teacher she partnered up with were evidently in training for an¬†Olympic¬†type of marathon! Initially, I did give it a good-hearted attempt to keep up with the teachers-determined-to-whip-me-into-shape. I even made sure to keep the stragglers caught up with us. That’s right, I was the BEAST! For the first five minutes.

Then my smoker’s lungs started kicking in. Sweat glands I didn’t know existed made their presence known. Luckily, I’d established with the teachers from hell ¬†I was in charge of the stragglers, so it became easy to slow it on down and walk their pace. No longer was I encouraging them to keep up, I was begging THEM to s-l-o-w down! I can remember at one point where they gave up on me trying to catch up with them. Not only did we finish the walk in 2.5 miliseconds, we also had to wait another 20 something hours for the other classes to arrive at the meeting point. Okay, okay, so I’m exaggerating just a little.

It was at that point I knew I had to quit smoking. There was no reason for me to be in my 30’s and ready to keel over from what should have been an invigorating walk. My mind was made up and I quit. For over 2 years. At least, in the sense that I didn’t buy cigarettes. I didn’t smoke cigarettes. But I never stopped feigning for cigarettes. It was oh-so easy to start back up. I’ll just smoke when: fill-in-the-blank. And then as I became more comfortable with the different allowances to smoke, I was a full-time smoker again.

Now, I am back into the world of not smoking. Again. After another attempt back in August of last year. I went three weeks before I just had to smoke again. I have been wanting to post about ¬†my non-smoking journey that began a few months ago but honestly, I was afraid that I would have given in again. I am trying, no not trying, I am succeeding at being a non-smoker. The first month really didn’t bother me. It’s been the second month going into the third that had me going absolutely bonkers! It was through a newsletter for people who have quit smoking that I read once you get to the third month and haven’t smoked, your chances for remaining a non-smoker increase tremendously. That is what I held onto for dear life as the days from 2 months into 3 months slowed down drastically.

I’m still struggling with the addiction part at times but not so much that I am willing to taint my non-smoking lips and lungs! The app does tell me how much money I’ve saved as well as how my body is healing. Like most smokers who quit, ¬†I have packed on the pounds. ¬†I can’t even say it’s because food tastes so much better. It’s because I want to SMOKE! The next phase of kicking the habit is to turn my eating habits around. I knew I would gain weight and gave myself a time period to substitute one oral fixation for another. Temporarily, that is! ¬†And so the determination continues into another day I can add to my time of kicking the habit. I’m off into the next journey of kicking the jiggly off my belly!

Any addictions you quit? How many times did it take you? What are some words of advice and encouragement you can give the rest of us?

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3 Generations of A Pose

Some days, I find it hard to believe my mom is really gone. In the back of my mind, I’ve been aware this month will mark 6 months. Half a year. I’m weird that way. I mark time off by 6 month intervals.

¬†It’s those unexpected moments when something sparks a memory about my mom and my heart squeezes. I get through those moments, reminding myself of a conversation mom and I had a few years before she died. I remember her telling me not to be all sad and down when she’s gone. She’s going to be up in Heaven having a good time. And knowing my mom, I bet she is, too!

I had a productive day with unexpected good news about a few things. Not ¬†bad ¬†for a Monday overall. In fact, it was so good, I was even motivated to do some cleaning and picking up after a 12 hour day at work. With the house to myself, only my 4 legged-grandchildren as my captive¬† adoring audience, I belt out my favorite songs from the good old days. It’s bittersweet in its own way because they’re songs from the happy times in my childhood and my fondest memories of my parents. I glance up in the middle of a rendition to the framed pictures my mom gave me years ago.

There are pictures of my Oma, my mom and dad, and me as a child. My daughter once commented on how my mom took so many pictures of me with a scowl on my face. I’m pretty sure it was because my mom was ALWAYS taking a picture of me; even when I didn’t want her to. They are pretty funny to look at, so I don’t mind. I have one picture, tucked into the frame, of my mom, wearing the fashionable short dress of the 60’s and she’s holding our dog. When I’m in the heart squeezing moments, I take that picture down and look at it.

Tonight, as I put the picture back in place, I really noticed for the first time the picture of my Oma holding the dog she owned, years before I was even a thought. Then I glanced ¬†at the picture I’d just put back. Then another picture of me, around 10 or so, with me holding my childhood pet, Blacky. That’s when it hit me: we have 3 generations of us holding our dogs.

That put a smile on my face.

I know I’ll always miss my mom. I know I’ll have those good days of memories where I crack up at the antics of my mom. I know I’ll have days where I’m sad and that’s all there is to it. I know I’ll keep marking time by my 6 month intervals. ¬†And I know I’ll be okay.

Love you and miss you mom!

Your Favorite Childhood Toys

Day 25: Your Favorite Childhood Toys

On the top of my list is Playmobile! In the summers when I went to spend a few weeks with my Oma, she would always add on to my collection. One summer was the circus, the next summer the Wild West or random Playmobiles. I LOVED those toys. I would play for hours, lost in my imagination. 


I spent hours playing with my Sunshine and Happy Family. I had a camper for them and the two families took many, many, many, camping trips together. I was so excited to find pictures of them. 

























What are some of your favorite childhood toys?

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