Giving Up Smoking.
And Certainly on Being a Less Than Perfect Parent!
In my travels as a single mother and previously going through that supremely horrible process known as divorce I was smoking like a train. I had never smoked before but for some reason, it seemed to relieve my stress and get me through the extreme highs and lows of the whole distressing process. I knew it was not in my best interests to smoke but needs must and I did.
This was in that somewhat historical period as anti-smoking regulations made their unwelcome entry into the working day life of the average man and woman.
By now my ex-husband had returned to the bosom of his loving family overseas thereby vacating both paternal responsibilities and the everyday care of his sons.
My younger son had started school at kindergarten and quite unbeknownst to me was quite concerned about his future. Poor little chap!
And so it came to pass that on this particular day after I had collected him from school aftercare and returned home from another day at the office coalface, I sat down — pre-round two of a busy mother’s day — to read the paper and in so doing I lit a cigarette.
Well, it was then that I became very aware of a small boy standing close to me and staring, and I mean really staring, at my cigarette.
