What I said that got me a mean comment

So I mentioned the other day that someone gave me a mean comment on a post once, and I deleted it because I didn't know how to respond.  I mean, I knew how to respond but I didn't actually know how to do it. That makes no sense.  I mean I didn't actually know how to respond to her comment - I knew what I wanted to say but I didn't know how to say it so she would see it. 

I am trying to use inflection here so you get what I am saying.


ANYWAY.  Now that I know, I can't follow up because I deleted the comment.  At the risk of getting a group of people in a tizzy, I will share what the comment was about.


Basically, this lady came over to my blog from another blogger's post that I had commented on.  She wanted to be sure that I read her comment on my comment, and was pretty confrontational and pissed about something that I said.  Woo.  I might as well just quit while I am ahead.  This is just too freaking confusing for the average person to follow.  Don't take that the wrong way, I can hardly follow it and I am writing it. 


If you are still with me, I basically commented that I believe that it is a form of child abuse if a person smokes when their child has asthma.

First of all, it is my opinion.  And I am allowed to have one.  And no, I am not a smoker - never really was into it at all.  However, I dated a smoker for several years and it wasn't a big deal to me.

Now.  Before any smokers get all mad and freaked out, I am not suggesting that you love your child any less if you are a smoker.  I want to clarify that I meant if your child has a chronic illness like asthma that is affected negatively by cigarette smoke (as most asthmatics are), when a Mom (or Dad) smokes in the house, in the car or other confined spaces, I do think it's a form of child abuse.  That would be the same thing as giving a kid with a milk allergy a dairy product in their lunch pail every day.  Like you are tempting the fates that your kid is going to have a severe reaction to something you are choosing to do!

Child abuse is defined as: "Any recent act or failure to act on the part of a parent or caretaker, which results in death, serious physical or emotional harm, sexual abuse, or exploitation, or an act or failure to act which presents an imminent risk of serious harm." www.childwelfare.gov


What I see, is that smoking is the act which presents an imminent risk of serious harm, if your child has asthma.  I do not think every smoking parent is abusing their (healthy) child. (Well. Sort of.  But I'm not going there right now.)  I think smoking is a choice, and if a person ends up having a child that will suffer or (potentially) die because of your choice, then you can stop.  You should stop.  You should want to stop.  Because you love your child and you care about their health and don't want them to suffer.  The point is, you have a choice, and your child doesn't.

No offense, but I think a lot of smokers have a chip on their shoulder and seem think everyone is out to get them.  I need to put this right out there though:  I do not care if you smoke.  I do not care if you smoke eight packs a day and have lungs that resemble a tar pit.  I am not one to judge at all.  I really don't care. At. All. Seriously.


However, when your chronically sick child has no choice but be subjected to your habit/addiction, has no place to escape and breathe clean air, I think it is dangerous.  And selfish.  And wrong.


I think your first obligation when you choose to be a mother (or father) is to take care of your child.  Your most important job is to keep your child SAFE.  And if your child is sick, and has trouble breathing when you are smoking, you are not taking care of your child.  You are choosing YOUR needs/wants over YOUR CHILD'S health.

That's it.  So mean lady who commented on my comment can feel free to comment again.

Because I am allowed to believe what I believe, and say what I believe.  And if you don't share my belief, well, that is certainly your right too.

Well I'll just toot my OWN horn then.

You know, I could argue that I am a damn good wife.

I take care of my man, even when he’s a pain in my butt. I mean, who else would get up out of a warm snuggly bed to go down to the car at midnight where there could potentially be raccoons that might attack me because the car is by the garbage pails and everyone knows that raccoons are violent and like garbage in the night, just to search for an inhaler when my husband says he feels wheezy?

(mean racoon that wants to use my leg as his next meal)

One would think that the said inhaler would be on the said asthmatic’s side of the bed, within reach. One might go so far as to think that at least one of the forty seven thousand inhalers that I have purchased would be somewhere in the bedroom, bathroom or upstairs region of an asthmatic’s house.


Like does anyone out there know a chronic asthmatic that doesn’t carry his inhaler with him like a big boy?? Why, when we are halfway to a destination, will he look at me and say, “So did you pack me an inhaler?” And I might just say, "Of course I packed you an inhaler Hon." Because I am all lovey like that. And because I know with every fiber of my being Hon will not remember to pack himself an inhaler. I mean, I don’t want him to start wheezing and not be able to breathe, so obviously I make a point to have the proper medication on hand at all times. One might think the asthmatic might take the bull by the horns and keep track of his own life saving medicine, wouldn’t one?

Well. One better get his damn inhalers in strategic spots all over the house so the other one doesn’t have to get out of her snuggly warm bed and face vicious, man eating raccoons in the dead of night ever again.

One is definitely lucky that I love him, and his lungs.