This is me...

This is me...
I'm having a mom moment....

Friday, August 12, 2011

I'm BAAAAAAAACK!!!!!

So after an all-time high ranking of "7" on "Top Mommy Blogs," I have sunk to a new all-time low of "89."  It's like I haven't posted in a month or something.....
And after all of your "loving" emails about where I am and why am I not posting and how you are going to quit following if I don't post soon (some with more colorful language than others), I want to point out to you all that I don't get paid for posting, and while I'm really glad that you have missed me, seriously, I was ON VACATION.  But I am back now, so go ahead and start voting again. 

I've been "home" in Texas now since late Sunday night, but I've been busy with unpacking, laundry, catching up on the overflowing DVR, grocery shopping, going through 7 weeks of mail, oh, and with the "Roach Wars of 2011."  The husband had told me that 50+ days of no rain and extreme drought conditions here had made their apperances in the house more frequent, so when we arrived on Sunday night we did a preliminary sweep for them and found none.  However, word must have gotten out that the crazy, parnoid, bug-phobic lady was back, because Monday there were 2 in the house and today there was a third, huge, granddaddy of all roaches in my bathroom.  His antennae alone were at least 3 inches long and he was hiding on the backside of the towel that was hanging on the shower door.  Of course, I was sitting on the toilet when I saw him so I peed in record time.  Despite the kids trying to help, emptying an entire can of Raid, and trying multiple times to stomp on him (missing every time), we are unsure that he is dead.  We can't find him.  Which means that I have closed the bathroom door, shoved towels up under the door and must now pee in the hall bathroom until husband gets home.  All three of these demons appeared in the middle of the day, when husband was at work.  This reaffirms my theory that they send in suicide roaches to mess with me.

Tuesday night I wrote a fairly awesome post, scheduled it to post Wednesday morning, and went to bed.  It not only didn't post, it dissappeared.  So I will try to recreate it, and it won't be as good because my writing is always a little better when it is off the top of my head and then I go back to make sure that all the words are spelled right and that it makes a little sense.  If you remember, there was a story that I wanted to tell you all, but I was waiting for permission from the person that it involved.  Well, since the situation is still on-going, with new developments, my friend has asked that I sit on it.  So I am sitting on it both because she asked me to and because I want the whole story when I tell it.  Its a shame, really, because it was among the most interesting things that happened this Summer while I was in Alabama and it didn't even happen to me.  Well, there is one thing that happened this Summer......

I quit smoking.  The fact that I smoked at all has been a closely guarded secret.  But once my kids figured it out, I knew I had to quit.  It still took me a year to actually do it.  It's not like I hadn't quit before, I've quit 5 or 6 times over the past 20 years but never stayed quit for more than 9 months or so.  I will not lie, I LOVE smoking.  I love the way it feels in my throat, the calming wave that washes over me with that first inhale, basically everything about how it makes me feel.  I smoked through colds, the flu, and even pneumonia once.  I never smoked around my kids or with my kids in the car, but I loved to smoke while driving.  I never smoked in my house -- ever.  There is one very good reason for that:  I HATE the smell of stale cigarette smoke.  I can't stand it on my hands, in my hair, or my clothes.  It has been easier to smoke here in Texas because the air is so much drier.  See, when you smoke in humid conditions, the smoke just hangs in front of you, stuck in the heavy air, clinging to you so that you, well, stink.  But when the air is relatively dry like it is here, the smoke is wafted away and doesn't cling to you, so you don't stink...or at least you stink less.  You would think that all of that would make it easier to quit.  It doesn't.  You would think that after 4-5 weeks of no cigarettes, the cravings would go away.  They don't.  In fact, at the moment that I am writing this, I'd throw the kids into the car and run to the convenience store and buy a pack, but I know that the husband would kill me and the kids would tell on me and I'd be disappointed in myself.  Besides, I did not go through the torture of getting nicotine out of my system those first few weeks just to have to start all over again.  But still.....I REALLY miss it.

As a result of quitting the smokes, I have gained about 10 pounds.  I didn't have room for 10 more pounds.  So now, without my celebratory cigarette, I must force myself to exercise.  I loathe exercise.  I used to go to the gym with the understanding that I would get a coke and a cigarette when I was done, now I will have to figure out another reward system.  Maybe I will let myself converse with a treadmill Barbie, or call a headroom mom, or write an editorial for every week that I make it to the gym at least 3 days.  (If you do not "get" that, then you need to go back and read my old posts).

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