Monday, April 27, 2009

You can take that cookie and shove it up your....

This morning I made the decision to treat myself to a mocha and a pastry at the small hippie coffee shop down by the bay. Vincent has been a bit (I mean, a lot bit) fussy for whatever reason, and a toothache kept me awake last night, so I very much deserved a treat such as that, especially on a cold, gloomy day.

While I was waiting patiently for my mocha to be completed, Vincent was demonstrating a lesser form of patience. He was fussing and trying to wiggle out of my arms. I silently whispered in my head “hurry up, hurry up” but all the while kept a smile on my face and kinda eye rolled like “kids, whatcha gonna with do?” when she turned around to see what all the fuss was about (pun intended). Much to my surprise, the lady behind the counter said “ok, ok…here ya go” and put a cookie my son’s mouth! I had half a mind to pull the cookie out of his mouth and threaten to put it up her anal cavity, but I refrained. Instead I stood there, speechless. This may not seem like too big of deal to anyone, especially people who don’t have children, but let me tell you, it was a big deal to me for a few reasons a.) Vincent is only 11 months old, in my opinion he is not old enough for the type of treat he was offered, and when I say offered I mean forced upon by the hand of a stranger, b.) I do not give my child any unnecessary sugar because he is a hyperactive baby, and I do not need anything emphasizing his already rambunctious behavior and c.) I do not want my son to learn that if he throws a fit for no reason whatsoever, he will be rewarded with a tasty, sugary treat. Even before I had a baby, and I think I’ve made it quite clear how ignorant and stupid I was about the whole baby thing, I always asked the mother quietly if I could offer her child a bite of food. I couldn’t believe this lady took it upon herself to shove a cookie in my child's mouth without so much as gesturing to me if I would be okay with it.

I was disturbed. And I put my change right back in my jeans pocket instead of the glass tip jar on the counter.

I was reluctant to share what I’m about to spill, but here it goes! I am on day four of no cigarettes. My reasons for wanting to omit this information are because my family didn’t even know that I started smoking again, and they still don’t. I guess this will be a true test to see if they really read my blog! Also, I happen to be deeply ashamed about my smoking and I have never openly admitted to random strangers, even some friends, that I smoked. See, I use to be smoker. From the ages of about 13 to 23, I smoked about a pack a day. I know, I know, 13 years old? A little young, eh? Yes! Someday I will both impress and sadden you with my old bad girl antics, when I have 4 days straight to recall it all. You will feel very sorry for my mother, trust me. Anyways, since Vincent was planned pregnancy, I quit smoking about six months before I even started trying to get pregnant, to make sure my body was in tip top shape. And besides the occasional smoke with a cocktail (not while I was pregnant DUH!), I had been a non-smoker, and it felt great. I never ever ever ever thought I’d do back to it.

It’s a slippery fucking slope, that nicotine slope! The occasional cocktail smoke turned into the occasional smoke with my friends who smoked, which later turned into the “I’ve had such a crazy, busy day, I need a cigarette to unwind” smoke. The next thing I know, I am buying cigarettes and smoking just to smoke. I was embarrassed. I was washing my hands and brushing my teeth 7 times a day so no one would smell the smoke on me. I found myself watching the clock, waiting for Vincent to take his nap so I could go outside and smoke. I was too busy hoping he’d fall asleep that I wasn’t even enjoying him while he was awake. I got fed up with the bullshit and so last Thursday, I told myself NO MORE! YOU’RE DONE! YOU ARE NOT A SMOKER! YOU ARE A MOM! Not that you can’t be both, and be a perfectly nice mom, but not me. I become agitated and annoyed easily when I’m smoking. I don’t wear it well, plain and simple, and I was pissed off at myself for allowing myself to start down my old unhealthy path. So Friday morning I woke up with the flu. It couldn’t have worked out more perfectly!! I felt like such shit, I couldn’t even think about smoking a cigarette without running towards the toilet. So, on Saturday, I was feeling a little better, but still queasy so cigarettes weren’t really on my mind. Sunday, I felt 100% better but I had just gone two days with no nicotine. I told myself, if you can do two days, just keep going! I am nearing the completion of my fourth straight day of not smoking and I feel great. No, I feel fantasical!

I feel better getting that off my chest. Thank you blogosphere! And sorry Mom!

"Ew, cigs are, like, so gross!"