I am not a smoker. I never have been. With the exception of a brief period of time in my early 20's when I went through my clove cigarette/Honey Brown Lager phase (Oh my GAWD, it tastes like sugar on my lips! Hack hack hack!), I've avoided smoking. I come from a long line of smokers as does my husband, who is a reformed chewing tobacco addict. I don't judge, but I was happy when most restaurants went "smoke-free". I have plenty of smoking friends and relatives and we socialize well, with the understanding that they sit downwind and don't throw their butts in my yard. We've voiced the evils of tobacco and cigarettes to our boys ("You'll die!", "You'll get cancer!", "Your lungs will fall out of your butts!"). We do this because everyone who smokes says "I wish I never started. It's so hard to stop." That and, well, it's just bad for you.
That said, we have an annual tradition of "Cigar Night" at the beach house in Corolla. After the kids go to bed, the adults pour themselves their cocktail of choice and go out on the second floor deck, away from the kid-end of the house, and we each have a cigar. A good cigar. The kind you have once a year. We laugh and laugh and talk about really inappropriate things. We use seashells for ashtrays. I talk in a fake mobster voice and point with my cigar ("Yeah, see. Yeah."). We're adults. We can smoke cigars if we want to.
A few weeks ago, post Corolla, I drove past Cabella's on the way back from a meeting and noticed Cigars International. My husband has been there and he told me it's pretty amazing inside. I thought I'd take a quick detour and pick up a few cigars for us; I'm a grown woman. I can buy cigars. In I went in my Loft shift dress, nude pumps and cat's eye glasses. It was like Disneyland for cigar lovers, all cabin-like and manly. A very nice gentleman was happy to usher me into the Blend Lab and helped me pick out a selection of four ("But, ma'am, if you buy five you get the sixth one free!"), make that six, cigars that were certain to please our very selective palates. I was so excited to surprise my husband with my selection! But, wait until Corolla next year? I don't have a humidor. A wine fridge, yes, but a humidor? We're not that fancy.
So they sat, in a cabinet, until last night when I decided we'd try two of them out. One with essence of chocolate for me, some other thing for my husband (he doesn't really care, I don't think). It was still light out and the boys were still awake, but they were Xboxing and Minecrafting - surely they'd not come out. I grabbed my new cigar cutter and my mister grabbed the ashtray from India that I inherited from my Grandfather and we sat on the deck and enjoyed our cigars together. Delicious! Until... (sliding of glass door)
Ryan: "What are you doing? Are you two smoking cigars?"
Greg: "Yep."
Ryan: "I thought you only did that once a year. At the Outer Banks."
Me: "Well, we're doing it now, too."
Ryan circled the table, smirking at us. "Aren't you going to get cancer?"
Me: "No. We don't suck the smoke into our lungs. Just into our mouths."
Ryan: "Does it taste good?"
Greg: "No."
Ryan, smirking: "Then why would you do it?"
Me: "Because..." Shitshitshitshit! Hypocrite! Liar! Bad example!
Greg: "Because adults can do it every now and then. Mommy got these as a treat for us." So matter of fact.
Me: "Are you judging us?"
Ryan, heading back in the house: "Yep."
Me: "Don't tell Ethan. Seriously. Just go. I don't need his opinion, too."
Normally, the boys don't engage with each other unless there's a Pokemon card to trade, a new Epic Rap Battle Of History to watch on Youtube, or if one waves their naked butt at the other one post shower, requiring the other to throw an elbow. However, I knew tattling was about to take place. Ten minutes later, my mister says "Ethan's looking at us." Of course he was. The glass door slid open.
Ethan: "Hey! What's up?"
Me: "Nothin'. What's up with you?"
Ethan: "Nothin'. Soooo, what are you guys doing?"
Greg: "Smoking cigars. Your brother told you, I see."
Ethan: "Yeah."
Me: "Are you going to give us a hard time, too?"
Ethan: "Nope. I don't care." Looks away. "So, can I try it?"
Greg and me: "NO!"
Me: "Are you crazy?!"
Ethan: "Well, how old do I have to be?"
Greg: "18."
Me: "21."
Ethan: "Okayyyyyy. Well, I love you."
Both: "We love you, too."
He kissed me, no doubt to try to nab a little stogie essence, and then went back in the house.
So, there we were, busted by our boys: Preachy, hypocritical parents, smelling of expensive blended cigars and shame, hiding behind a cloud of smoke.
I guess it happens to the best of us. Do as I say, not as I do, right? But, realistically, a cigar every now and then is not the end of the world. I mean, Ryan already told a friend of his, while riding in my car, that I'm a drug addict ("Well, caffeine is a drug and you drink coffee." I still almost drove into a cow pasture). Cigars are probably the least of our worries. I'm sure they'll judge us many more times over the years. But, I think, as long as we work hard, treat others with kindness, and love them, they can forgive the occasional cigar :-)
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