Day One...

Day one... my hubby is trying to quit smoking... again. I had actually forgotten that today was D day until I heard the unwrapping of multiple Jolly Ranchers come from his side of the bed. This time he's trying Chantrix. It's worked for two people that we personally know. I'm keeping my fingers crossed, because, well you see, I've been here before. I've been at day one before... four times. Day one really isn't all that bad in comparison to let's see... day 14. The day that is forever ingrained in my mind when I actually heard myself say, "This is ridiculous just smoke already!"

For the record, I hate the smoking. I hate the smell. I hate that my clothing smells like smoke too, even though I've never been a smoker. I hate that each time I wash my curtains they come out looking two shades lighter in color. I hate the ash trays that I constantly empty. I hate the smell in the car. I hate the money spent on the cigarettes.

I go back and forth on how much I blame my hubby and his responsibility for all this or the tobacco companies. Truly, he is addicted. His efforts to quit have been genuine and they are long and drawn out battles. He suffers and we suffer as a family. The kids are bracing for major grouchiness and edginess. It's hard to be good cheerleaders when we've been bit by this before only to go back to the regularly scheduled smoking program. And, yet, there is that tiny, glimmer of hope. In the meantime, we will keep a well stocked drawer of candy and tread lightly.