No Smoking in the House

Did you know that the ability to become addicted to something is actually handed down through our gene? Not the ability to become addicted to any one object; just the ability to cleve to something regardless of how it affect you or those you care about -- my person definition of being addictited.

At one time, everyone in my immediate family was addicted to somthing: prescription drugs, illegal drugs, alcohol, sex, religion, you name it. So I grew up with the single goal of not being like anyone in my family. So I either avoided things I knew were addictive, or I controlled my use of them strictly.

This was true of my forey into smoking. While I smoked for about 8 years; it was never serious. At the most! I would do about a pack a day. Usually, just two or three. Wasn't hard to quit and I tried never to smoke in front of my girls.

I haven't had a cigarette in well over 12 years. I don't even miss them anymore -- Thank someone's God! My current husband smokes the occasional cigar or pipe; and if I'm in the right mood I thourally enjoy him doing so. :)

But he always smokes outside on the back porch. We, nor anyone with us, smokes in our house or vehicles. If smoke just blows through the back door to our house, we can smell it a week later. Ex-smokers know what I'm talking about.

Well, as is want to happen, my oldest took up smoking a few years back. She smoked before she came "out" about it; but by the time it was official she was on her own and too old for me to put a stop to it.

She's pretty good about stepping outside to light up when she visits. Normally, she will pace up and down the sidewalk just outside the front door. You have to understand that she doesn't visit often; every few months or so.

Regardless, Will must have seen her smoking because a day after her visit I caught him imaginary smoking. And NOTHING I did or said made him stop. That night, after dark, he was still smoking and I finally told him, "You can't smoke in this house. If you want to smoke you need to go outside to do it."

I opened the front door and turned on the outside light. He calmly walked out to the end of the sidewalk and balanced on the ball of his feet as he smoked his imaginary cigarette. I closed teh door and watched him through teh peep hole.

He paced, he smoked, he stared out into nothing. I fianlly opened the door and said are you ready to come in now? And he told me he wasn't through smoking yet. I closed the door again and continued watching him. It was my third time to check on him before he finally came in.

But on the way up to the house, he threw his imaginary butt on the ground and squished it out with his foot.

Every few months, he starts smoking again. We tell him the same thing; not in our car or house. If he's in the vehicle, he'll wait until we get out -- though I'm not sure where he stores his imaginary half-smoked cigarette. If he's in the house, he'll go pace in the front yard.