Unusual names have been with us for a long time. Scarlett O'Hara (heroine of Gone With the Wind), Elijah Blue Altman (Cher's son with rocker Greg Allman), and Moon Unit Zappa (daughter of musician Frank Zappa) are all "different"names, to say the least. However, one of these is a fictional character, and the other two were named by people who likely spent a lot of time high on drugs and booze. Back in the days, names like these were anomalies.
But not anymore. About a dozen years ago, people decided that their children were so extraordinary that a regular old name was just not good enough. And so began the trend of giving your child a "unique" name. A name that would not only show the world that this child was, indeed, extraordinary, but also that its parents were complete and total idiots.
When I was in grade school, back in the 70's, kids had names. I mean names that could be found in the little book parents used to consult before naming their child. I went to school with a lot of "-eens": Eileens, Maureens, Noreens, Doreens, Jeaneens, - and also a lot of Marys, Annes, Dianes, Lisas, Debbies, and Karens. Nothing odd or unique about them. The boys were named John, Joseph, Robert, Peter, Michael, Mark...good, solid biblical names.
When I started teaching, about 10 years ago, I came across a lot of Amandas, Brittanys, Ashleys, and all kinds of -annas: Lilliana, Julianna, Brianna, Gianna, etc. Even still, these are at least real names.
A while ago I was reading an article in Parenting magazine. Side note: I hate Parenting magazine. It's always filled with lots of tidbits about how to make recycled stationery out of used paper plates, or an article about how some child overcame an allergy to avocados and went on to lead a perfectly normal life. Snoozers! I was forced to read it in some doctor's office, where all the other literature was in Spanish. An article about "New Naming Trends" caught my eye; I knew it would be painful to read, but I had nothing else to do. It started out by saying that, these days, parents are putting a lot more thought into naming their child; in other words, they have nothing else to do, so instead of shouting some random name as the child passes painfully through the birth canal, they spend months researching this all-important topic.
In the article several couples are interviewed. One that stands out is a couple who said they spent months trying to think of an appropriate name and finally decided "that Basil was the perfect name for our son because it combined our mutual loved of nature and gourmet cooking into one word." Yeah, I have a word: Asskicking, which is exactly what Basil is going to get every day of his life. Imagine poor Basil when he graduates from college and must get a job. Somebody is going to read his name and say "There is no way I am hiring some a**hole whose name is an herb."
Why does this annoy me so much? it's just another reflection of the self-centered, self-absorbed, self-important society in which we live. Every child is exceptional; every person is gifted; and rules are just for the "regular" people. Little Basil can't be expected to do the same thing as his peers; after all, his name alone conveys "a love for nature and gourmet cooking." Yeah, well good for him. If he has any brains, he'll change his name when he's older. Or, if he's as stupid as his parents, he'll probably change it to Thyme.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Christmas Letter
Dear Friends and Family,
The holidays are upon us, and once again we've been kind enough to write down everything we did this year, so you can read it with envy. We don't want you to miss a detail!
I'd start with January, except I don't remember any of it. February brought the 5th birthday of our daughter Ava. Because we are out of our minds, we decided to host a children's party for 10 of Ava's little pals at a local kid's museum. Thank God all the parents stayed or I would have lost at least half the children. Once that was done we all went home and got drunk.
March was completely non-descript except I think Easter was thrown in there somewhere. I am sure something happened in April, although I can't recall what it was.
In May we were thrilled that Ava got to have eye surgery and an airway assessment. Our doctor said that since Ava was such a complex case we should go to Cincinnati Children's Hospital for a complete airway assessment, because they are the experts in kids with complex airways. Needless to say, we were thrilled at the thought of visiting yet another hospital and with the added bonus of flying there as well!
In June we decided to take out first plane ride with Ava to a family weekend for craniofacial kids in Myrtle Beach. After spending 12 hours packing our clothing, and cramming all our toiletries, countless medical supplies, and other necessities into 4-ounce containers - and then cramming the 4-ounce containers into quart size plastic bags - I was ready to schlep all our crap to the airport and get on a plane. Ava loved the plane ride and we all enjoyed the vacation, despite the fact that it was hot as blazes and everything cost a million dollars.
July brought my 41st birthday -yipee- I think Malcolm and I may have gone out to dinner, but I don't really remember. All I can tell you is I likely fell asleep by 10pm. also I now need reading glasses on top of my contact lenses for "age related eye problems. "
In August we celebrated 9 years of wedded bliss as well as Malcolm's 43rd birthday. Ava started kindergarten too. As we expected, she is at the top of her class and excels academically. Now if she could sit still during story time we'd be fine. She also dabbles in the martial arts at her twice-weekly karate classes. I am sure she is gifted in this area and we'll likely be celebrating her black belt soon. While the instructor says she can be "unfocused", I view this as such as negative term, and prefer to call her inquisitive and engaging.
Finally, in October we took our dream vacation to Cincinnati, OH, where we spent 5 nights in a cut-rate room - an old hospital room converted to a hotel suite. It wasn't quite as nice as the Ritz but we made the best of it. All I can say is thank God there was a Marriott with an excellent bar across the street or I might not have made it through the week.
Autumn also brought pumpkins, beautiful foliage and the news that Malcolm has high blood pressure. Just another hurdle for us, as he is now taking daily medication for this condition. I continue to take the fist full of anti-anxiety and anti-depressant drugs I need to make it through the day.
This Thanksgiving was much better than last since we spent it with family instead of in the hospital. We look forward to doing the same at Christmas; we hope that we are all healthy.
Day to day life remains the same. Malcolm toils away at his job as an engineer, while I engage in such glamorous activities as grocery shopping, laundry, feeding the cat, cooking, and cleaning every few months. I do get out every chance I get and have had several good hangovers this year due to my tendency to drink like a fish whenever I can escape the monotony of being a housewife. I also joined a gym this year and despite working out 2 hours a week have not lost one pound. But muscle weighs more than fat, you know. What a crock.
All I know is we have survived another year. We had our ups and downs, and like everyone else, had our fun and our struggles. We are glad that Ava enjoys school. We don't care if she is the smartest or the slowest, as long as she learns and is happy. We are grateful that we have employment and a roof over our heads. We don't care to compare vacation notes, home improvement projects, our children's crowning achievements, or any other petty details. We do hope that you take a moment to look around you and realize that there are other people in the world besides you. And those people don't really give a rat's ass what you did all year.
Happy Holidays! Love The Whiners
The holidays are upon us, and once again we've been kind enough to write down everything we did this year, so you can read it with envy. We don't want you to miss a detail!
I'd start with January, except I don't remember any of it. February brought the 5th birthday of our daughter Ava. Because we are out of our minds, we decided to host a children's party for 10 of Ava's little pals at a local kid's museum. Thank God all the parents stayed or I would have lost at least half the children. Once that was done we all went home and got drunk.
March was completely non-descript except I think Easter was thrown in there somewhere. I am sure something happened in April, although I can't recall what it was.
In May we were thrilled that Ava got to have eye surgery and an airway assessment. Our doctor said that since Ava was such a complex case we should go to Cincinnati Children's Hospital for a complete airway assessment, because they are the experts in kids with complex airways. Needless to say, we were thrilled at the thought of visiting yet another hospital and with the added bonus of flying there as well!
In June we decided to take out first plane ride with Ava to a family weekend for craniofacial kids in Myrtle Beach. After spending 12 hours packing our clothing, and cramming all our toiletries, countless medical supplies, and other necessities into 4-ounce containers - and then cramming the 4-ounce containers into quart size plastic bags - I was ready to schlep all our crap to the airport and get on a plane. Ava loved the plane ride and we all enjoyed the vacation, despite the fact that it was hot as blazes and everything cost a million dollars.
July brought my 41st birthday -yipee- I think Malcolm and I may have gone out to dinner, but I don't really remember. All I can tell you is I likely fell asleep by 10pm. also I now need reading glasses on top of my contact lenses for "age related eye problems. "
In August we celebrated 9 years of wedded bliss as well as Malcolm's 43rd birthday. Ava started kindergarten too. As we expected, she is at the top of her class and excels academically. Now if she could sit still during story time we'd be fine. She also dabbles in the martial arts at her twice-weekly karate classes. I am sure she is gifted in this area and we'll likely be celebrating her black belt soon. While the instructor says she can be "unfocused", I view this as such as negative term, and prefer to call her inquisitive and engaging.
Finally, in October we took our dream vacation to Cincinnati, OH, where we spent 5 nights in a cut-rate room - an old hospital room converted to a hotel suite. It wasn't quite as nice as the Ritz but we made the best of it. All I can say is thank God there was a Marriott with an excellent bar across the street or I might not have made it through the week.
Autumn also brought pumpkins, beautiful foliage and the news that Malcolm has high blood pressure. Just another hurdle for us, as he is now taking daily medication for this condition. I continue to take the fist full of anti-anxiety and anti-depressant drugs I need to make it through the day.
This Thanksgiving was much better than last since we spent it with family instead of in the hospital. We look forward to doing the same at Christmas; we hope that we are all healthy.
Day to day life remains the same. Malcolm toils away at his job as an engineer, while I engage in such glamorous activities as grocery shopping, laundry, feeding the cat, cooking, and cleaning every few months. I do get out every chance I get and have had several good hangovers this year due to my tendency to drink like a fish whenever I can escape the monotony of being a housewife. I also joined a gym this year and despite working out 2 hours a week have not lost one pound. But muscle weighs more than fat, you know. What a crock.
All I know is we have survived another year. We had our ups and downs, and like everyone else, had our fun and our struggles. We are glad that Ava enjoys school. We don't care if she is the smartest or the slowest, as long as she learns and is happy. We are grateful that we have employment and a roof over our heads. We don't care to compare vacation notes, home improvement projects, our children's crowning achievements, or any other petty details. We do hope that you take a moment to look around you and realize that there are other people in the world besides you. And those people don't really give a rat's ass what you did all year.
Happy Holidays! Love The Whiners
Thursday, December 4, 2008
I Don't Wanna Work, I Want to bang on the Drum All Day
Let's face it, we are all mercenaries. We all toil away at our jobs because we need money. We need money to live, to eat, to survive, and to enjoy as much as we can out of life. From the time you are a child, you are asked “What do you want to be when you grow up?” It’s drilled into us from toddler-hood that at some point you will grow up and have a job.
Most of us are descendants of immigrants. Unless you happen to be a Native American, your ancestors came from another country. This means that they likely came here for opportunity. Things have to be pretty bad if you are willing to journey across the ocean on a month-long trip that will take you to a place where you know no one, and do not speak the language. So suffice it to say that immigrant life was not easy. I know for a fact that it was not. My great grandparents all came from Italy and worked their tails off so their children could have a better life. And their children did have better lives, as did their grandchildren. They worked HARD: in factories, at physical labor, or at whatever job they could get. They did not have fancy educations; they did what they needed to do to feed their families.
Recently I came across an article in a magazine about teenagers having part-time jobs. The article was about the pros and cons of teenagers working during the school year. I started the article with an open mind; after all, these days the pressure on kids is enormous. Some of the kids I tutor wake up at 5:00 am (some of the girls at 4 am, to do their hair), get on the bus by 6, ride over an hour to school, and start their school day at 7:30. They are out of school at 2:00pm, but then face sports practice, clubs, or just the ride home. By the time they get home, they have to squeeze in homework, dinner, and sleep. Most of them are stressed, over scheduled, and just plain exhausted. Therefore, I could see where in these cases it may be hard for a teen to have a part-time job during the school year.
The article went on to say that a summer job for teens is almost always good. I agreed (although at 16 I thought this was a terrible idea). The article then started to state why teens working during the school year could be a poor idea. I thought they would be discussing the reasons I mentioned above….oh no.
The article said that teenagers who work often do so at mundane jobs. For example, they may stock shelves, serve customers fast food, work a cash register, or file papers. These were the types of jobs we had as teens; it never occurred to us that we were qualified to do anything else. The article continued by saying that working at a “boring” or “monotonous” job may contribute toward negative attitudes toward work itself or poor work habits. It said that parents often never saw their teen’s place of employment, and could not therefore conclude if it was an appropriate work environment.
And there’s more, folks. It said that teens should be encouraged to find jobs that are fulfilling and interesting….it listed good motivations and poor motivations for working. Good motivations included dabbling in a potential career field, or gaining valuable life experience. Bad motivations were wanting extra money or wanting to work at the mall, where their friends worked WHAT????????? I repeat, WHAT?????? Honest to God, you can’t make up this stuff.
There are two primary reasons teens work at mundane jobs. First of all, teenagers are completely self-absorbed, and therefore, their brains are often focused on other things. They are, by nature, self-centered creatures, who think that every problem is a tragedy that will never resolve and that life is just hangin' with your BFFs, who will there forever. I was the same way, every teen is. Secondly, most teens have not yet completed high school, nevermind any formal training in other areas of employment. Therefore, they are not qualified to do anything else. They are not qualified to be surgical residents, CEOs of companies, university professors, or leaders of expeditions to save the endangered whale. Now I admit, any of these endeavours sounds more interesting than bagging Happy Meals, or putting away the returns at the local Wal-mart. But that is life; you start at the bottom and work your way up. You gain experience dealing with a crabby boss, working with people who are shitheads, and understanding what it means to earn your money. You realize that the things your parents buy are not so cheap and that money is something that should be spent wisely.
My first job , when I was 16 years old, was at a Pathmark grocery store. I was a cashier. Scanners had just begun popping up in supermarkets, so being a cashier was pretty easy. And it was boring. And I hated it. But my parents told me that if I wanted to have that Flashdance sweatshirt with the ripped sleeves and those white leather boots that I had to get a job and pay for them myself. Again, at this age I thought this was a crappy plan. Having them give me the money was a much better idea.
But I did work in Pathmark for about 3 months until 2 of my friends got jobs next door, at the Kmart. After those 3 months I hung up my blue polyester smock forever and moved next door to Kmart to be with my friends. It was a dull job, but we had fun. We took breaks together, and hung out together after work. We traded shifts if someone had a date, or worked extra hours to buy x-mas gifts. We made the best of those dull jobs and earned some cash in the process. I learned to handle money, smile courteously at people I hated, and keep my temper in check. I learned that people counted on me to be at work and that I better show up. I also learned that money is hard to earn and you should appreciate what what you have. I guess these were poor motivations for work. All I can say is I have not stopped working since I first donned that Pathmark smock at 16; I work because I have to, not because love it. But that's life and unless you are Paris Hilton, get used to it.
Most of us are descendants of immigrants. Unless you happen to be a Native American, your ancestors came from another country. This means that they likely came here for opportunity. Things have to be pretty bad if you are willing to journey across the ocean on a month-long trip that will take you to a place where you know no one, and do not speak the language. So suffice it to say that immigrant life was not easy. I know for a fact that it was not. My great grandparents all came from Italy and worked their tails off so their children could have a better life. And their children did have better lives, as did their grandchildren. They worked HARD: in factories, at physical labor, or at whatever job they could get. They did not have fancy educations; they did what they needed to do to feed their families.
Recently I came across an article in a magazine about teenagers having part-time jobs. The article was about the pros and cons of teenagers working during the school year. I started the article with an open mind; after all, these days the pressure on kids is enormous. Some of the kids I tutor wake up at 5:00 am (some of the girls at 4 am, to do their hair), get on the bus by 6, ride over an hour to school, and start their school day at 7:30. They are out of school at 2:00pm, but then face sports practice, clubs, or just the ride home. By the time they get home, they have to squeeze in homework, dinner, and sleep. Most of them are stressed, over scheduled, and just plain exhausted. Therefore, I could see where in these cases it may be hard for a teen to have a part-time job during the school year.
The article went on to say that a summer job for teens is almost always good. I agreed (although at 16 I thought this was a terrible idea). The article then started to state why teens working during the school year could be a poor idea. I thought they would be discussing the reasons I mentioned above….oh no.
The article said that teenagers who work often do so at mundane jobs. For example, they may stock shelves, serve customers fast food, work a cash register, or file papers. These were the types of jobs we had as teens; it never occurred to us that we were qualified to do anything else. The article continued by saying that working at a “boring” or “monotonous” job may contribute toward negative attitudes toward work itself or poor work habits. It said that parents often never saw their teen’s place of employment, and could not therefore conclude if it was an appropriate work environment.
And there’s more, folks. It said that teens should be encouraged to find jobs that are fulfilling and interesting….it listed good motivations and poor motivations for working. Good motivations included dabbling in a potential career field, or gaining valuable life experience. Bad motivations were wanting extra money or wanting to work at the mall, where their friends worked WHAT????????? I repeat, WHAT?????? Honest to God, you can’t make up this stuff.
There are two primary reasons teens work at mundane jobs. First of all, teenagers are completely self-absorbed, and therefore, their brains are often focused on other things. They are, by nature, self-centered creatures, who think that every problem is a tragedy that will never resolve and that life is just hangin' with your BFFs, who will there forever. I was the same way, every teen is. Secondly, most teens have not yet completed high school, nevermind any formal training in other areas of employment. Therefore, they are not qualified to do anything else. They are not qualified to be surgical residents, CEOs of companies, university professors, or leaders of expeditions to save the endangered whale. Now I admit, any of these endeavours sounds more interesting than bagging Happy Meals, or putting away the returns at the local Wal-mart. But that is life; you start at the bottom and work your way up. You gain experience dealing with a crabby boss, working with people who are shitheads, and understanding what it means to earn your money. You realize that the things your parents buy are not so cheap and that money is something that should be spent wisely.
My first job , when I was 16 years old, was at a Pathmark grocery store. I was a cashier. Scanners had just begun popping up in supermarkets, so being a cashier was pretty easy. And it was boring. And I hated it. But my parents told me that if I wanted to have that Flashdance sweatshirt with the ripped sleeves and those white leather boots that I had to get a job and pay for them myself. Again, at this age I thought this was a crappy plan. Having them give me the money was a much better idea.
But I did work in Pathmark for about 3 months until 2 of my friends got jobs next door, at the Kmart. After those 3 months I hung up my blue polyester smock forever and moved next door to Kmart to be with my friends. It was a dull job, but we had fun. We took breaks together, and hung out together after work. We traded shifts if someone had a date, or worked extra hours to buy x-mas gifts. We made the best of those dull jobs and earned some cash in the process. I learned to handle money, smile courteously at people I hated, and keep my temper in check. I learned that people counted on me to be at work and that I better show up. I also learned that money is hard to earn and you should appreciate what what you have. I guess these were poor motivations for work. All I can say is I have not stopped working since I first donned that Pathmark smock at 16; I work because I have to, not because love it. But that's life and unless you are Paris Hilton, get used to it.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Deck the Halls with Trampled Bodies...
The holiday season is upon us. I happen to really enjoy Christmas, along with all the food, drink, family visits, and celebratory attitudes. I try to do my shopping in small batches and mostly on-line, because fewer things make me more cranky than fighting for a parking place at the mall, tearing through said mall, buying a bunch of overpriced crap, and then waiting a million hours in line while the inept cashier tries to figure out how to make change or change the register tape. Does not make me merry in the least.
So now that the holiday season has started, so has the accompanying madness. I rarely listen to or watch the news. Maybe I am ill-informed, but I don't really care. The news is depressing. Take, for example, the news from this past Thanksgiving weekend: a Wal-mart employee was trampled to death - yes, I repeat - trampled to death in NY state while a crowd of psychopathic shoppers ran to save $5 on some crappy electronic device. It seems that Wal-mart had advertised a flat screen TV (or something like that) for far less than the average price and they had 5 in stock. So a bunch of lunatics sat outside a Wal-mart in Valley Stream, NY for 29 hours to get a chance at getting this stupid TV. Oh, where do I begin? Here are just a handful of remarks that come to mind:
1. Anyone who sits outside of a store for 29 hours is an idiot. I don't care if the store is offering a Porsche for $1.99, it's not worth it. It's certainly not worth someone's life.
2. Anyone who is in a store at 5 am on the Friday after Thanksgiving is also an idiot. Sorry if you are one of those folks, but since only about 2 people read this blog, I am pretty certain I won't be offending anyone.
3. Stores should not be allowed to advertise such ridiculous sales. If you have people dumb enough to sit outside your store for 29 hours, Lord only knows what will happen when they are let loose in the store. Chances are they will behave like maniacs. Sales like these should be banned.
4. I am still unable to comprehend how anyone can be trampled to death. I could see if this was ancient Rome and perhaps you fell under the wheels of a chariot while it sped off to war, but this is 2008, people. To quote George Costanza, "We're living in a society here!" I would like to think if I was in a store and stepped on someone's sternum - or perhaps their head - that it would occur to me to help them up or at least say "excuse me". These imbeciles offered no help and just kept going.
5. Repeat #4, as this is still unfathomable to me.
6. Even after being told that someone had been killed and they had to evacuate, these morons replied, "We've been waiting in line since 5 am!" Hmmm, whose choice was that?
7. Last, but not least, the police are examining the security tapes to see if they can identify any of the heartless a-holes that stepped over his poor man and caused his death. I hope they find them, bring them up on manslaughter charges (Jack McCoy would figure a way to charge them with murder), and send the sons of bitches to jail for the rest of their miserable and selfish lives. Perhaps they'll be caught in a prison stampede and justice will be served.
Oh, by the way, have a Merry Christmas....pray you survive.
So now that the holiday season has started, so has the accompanying madness. I rarely listen to or watch the news. Maybe I am ill-informed, but I don't really care. The news is depressing. Take, for example, the news from this past Thanksgiving weekend: a Wal-mart employee was trampled to death - yes, I repeat - trampled to death in NY state while a crowd of psychopathic shoppers ran to save $5 on some crappy electronic device. It seems that Wal-mart had advertised a flat screen TV (or something like that) for far less than the average price and they had 5 in stock. So a bunch of lunatics sat outside a Wal-mart in Valley Stream, NY for 29 hours to get a chance at getting this stupid TV. Oh, where do I begin? Here are just a handful of remarks that come to mind:
1. Anyone who sits outside of a store for 29 hours is an idiot. I don't care if the store is offering a Porsche for $1.99, it's not worth it. It's certainly not worth someone's life.
2. Anyone who is in a store at 5 am on the Friday after Thanksgiving is also an idiot. Sorry if you are one of those folks, but since only about 2 people read this blog, I am pretty certain I won't be offending anyone.
3. Stores should not be allowed to advertise such ridiculous sales. If you have people dumb enough to sit outside your store for 29 hours, Lord only knows what will happen when they are let loose in the store. Chances are they will behave like maniacs. Sales like these should be banned.
4. I am still unable to comprehend how anyone can be trampled to death. I could see if this was ancient Rome and perhaps you fell under the wheels of a chariot while it sped off to war, but this is 2008, people. To quote George Costanza, "We're living in a society here!" I would like to think if I was in a store and stepped on someone's sternum - or perhaps their head - that it would occur to me to help them up or at least say "excuse me". These imbeciles offered no help and just kept going.
5. Repeat #4, as this is still unfathomable to me.
6. Even after being told that someone had been killed and they had to evacuate, these morons replied, "We've been waiting in line since 5 am!" Hmmm, whose choice was that?
7. Last, but not least, the police are examining the security tapes to see if they can identify any of the heartless a-holes that stepped over his poor man and caused his death. I hope they find them, bring them up on manslaughter charges (Jack McCoy would figure a way to charge them with murder), and send the sons of bitches to jail for the rest of their miserable and selfish lives. Perhaps they'll be caught in a prison stampede and justice will be served.
Oh, by the way, have a Merry Christmas....pray you survive.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Just Eat Smaller Portions...Yeah Right
Here is a confession from me: I love food and I love to eat. Oh and I love to drink too. Wine, mostly. I grew up in an Italian family; that meant, if we were not eating, we were thinking about the next meal. I think the first thing I always asked when I arrived home from school was, "What's for dinner?" I almost always loved it. The only time I ever lose my appetite is during times of great stress, and we're talking close to life and death here. Otherwise, I can always go for a little something to nosh.
I have lived in several places: I grew up on Staten Island, which was full of Italian immigrants. My extended family lived in Brooklyn, and were a stone's throw away from Manhattan; 'nough said about the qualty of food in both places. I lived in San Francisco, which boasts some of the country's best restaurants, not mention the wine that is produced in Napa and Sonoma. I also lived in Oakland, a place very close to the infamous city of Berkeley, which has some of the best ethnic cuisine I've ever had.
So it was a great surprise to me when I moved to CT. Rural, small town, CT at that. It is difficult to find anything good to eat here. A few good - and even some exceptional - restaurants exist here, but they are the exception rather than the rule. I have simply come to the conclusion that many people here don't like food. They eat simply to survive, which, to me, is an abomination.
This brings me to the point of this blog. These people who do not eat, obviously don't gain any weight, and are therefore skeletons. These are the people who attend my gym (lucky me).
I joined a gym about 18 months ago. In addition to loving food, I also hate exercise. There I said it. I love to eat and I hate to exercise. I realize this is not a popular opinion among the skeletons, but who cares? I go dragging into the gym, twice weekly, for an hour's workout. I do some strength training for 30 minutes and then 30 minutes of "cardio", another term for nearly killing ones self on some stupid piece of exercise equipment. Despite over 1 year of this I have not lost 1 pound. Nope, not a single one. Many people give me that line, "Well muscle weighs more than fat." My thought is, "And ice cream weighs more than 1/2 cup of steamed broccoli."
I have lived in several places: I grew up on Staten Island, which was full of Italian immigrants. My extended family lived in Brooklyn, and were a stone's throw away from Manhattan; 'nough said about the qualty of food in both places. I lived in San Francisco, which boasts some of the country's best restaurants, not mention the wine that is produced in Napa and Sonoma. I also lived in Oakland, a place very close to the infamous city of Berkeley, which has some of the best ethnic cuisine I've ever had.
So it was a great surprise to me when I moved to CT. Rural, small town, CT at that. It is difficult to find anything good to eat here. A few good - and even some exceptional - restaurants exist here, but they are the exception rather than the rule. I have simply come to the conclusion that many people here don't like food. They eat simply to survive, which, to me, is an abomination.
This brings me to the point of this blog. These people who do not eat, obviously don't gain any weight, and are therefore skeletons. These are the people who attend my gym (lucky me).
I joined a gym about 18 months ago. In addition to loving food, I also hate exercise. There I said it. I love to eat and I hate to exercise. I realize this is not a popular opinion among the skeletons, but who cares? I go dragging into the gym, twice weekly, for an hour's workout. I do some strength training for 30 minutes and then 30 minutes of "cardio", another term for nearly killing ones self on some stupid piece of exercise equipment. Despite over 1 year of this I have not lost 1 pound. Nope, not a single one. Many people give me that line, "Well muscle weighs more than fat." My thought is, "And ice cream weighs more than 1/2 cup of steamed broccoli."
I am not sure what it is, really. I know all about portion size and not eating after 7 pm and all that crap. And if I hear one more person say cheerfully, "Eat less and move more!" I just may kill them. I just can't help myself. I am not obese, but I am likely 20 pounds from where I should be. It's been 6 years since my child was born, so i can't blame it on baby weight, although that was a good excuse for a while. It's just that are so many good things to eat.
And I am sorry but a piece of grilled chicken breast the size of a deck of cards and a side of steamed greens is NOT as appetizing, nor as filling, as say: a burger with sweet potato fries; a heaping plate of macaroni and meatballs; a huge steak, with a baked potato; a piece of pie; or a banana split. Are we seeing the problem here? It's not that I dislike "healthy" food; on the contrary, I enjoy it very much. But I seem to have a breaking point. For example, I have been watching my diet closely for about 5 weeks and managed to lose about 5 pounds. Now, mind you, I am not suffering; I am eating between 1400-1600 calories a day, drinking a little less wine and trying to keep up with my exercise. BUT I HATE IT. Every minute feels like a sacrifice, and I hate watching every piece of food I eat. I hate that I can't have seconds at dinner or that by 9pm I am so hungry I could eat my pillow.
I guess I am one of those people who lives to eat and I will never change. I'll never be one of those skinny little women at the gym who is feverishly running on the treadmill at 90 mph and then goes for another 2 hours on the bike. I can't do it. Or should I say, I don't want to do it.
I don't understand any of it. I was always thin as a rail as a kid, but then came 30, and then came 40, and...crap...extra weight. I just hate all of it and am ready to say I am happy with who I am and who gives a rat's fat ass if I am a little chubbier than I should be. Don't get me wrong...I'll keep at my exercise and at my portion control crap, but I am having birthday cake, I am having wine, and I am having ice cream once in a while. I may never be a skeleton, but I'll never regret a minute of living either. Now, i wonder if there's anything in the kitchen for a late night snack?
Thursday, November 20, 2008
It Was the Age of Rudeness...
It never ceases to amaze me how rude and completely oblivious people can be. My daughter, who is 5, takes a karate class twice a week. She really enjoys this class, despite her tendency to pay attention to everything except the instructor, and to twirl and jump and stare at herself incessantly in the mirror that covers the wall. She is not alone...most of the kids in the class are doing their own little thing, while learning what they can about karate and all its positive lessons.
For some reason unknown to me, parents - or anyone who brings the child to class, (e.g., a grandparent) - are allowed to stay and watch the class. To me this creates an unnecessary distraction, but what do I know?
Anyway, most parents are respectful; they sit quietly, watch the kids, or read a magazine. There is a HUGE sign at the entrance of the workout room that says "Please turn off all cell phones beyond this point." I assume this is so some moron's "You Shook Me All Night Long" ring tone won't disrupt the class. Of course, there always has to be one who believes this sign was meant for everyone but them; obviously, their business is so important that it trumps the rules.
I sit by myself during karate and either watch the class or read. I tried talking with the other parents, but after a while, their boring banter about whose child was the brightest turned me off to wanting anything to do with them. A few weeks ago a new girl joined the class. Her grandmother - a loud, annoying woman - brings her each week. Today, at the start of class, she grabbed the instructor and asked, "Is Sam supposed to come on Wednesdays now?" The instructor said, "No, not unless she's received a letter saying she's in the Wed. class." The grandmother went on to ask 3 other ways if her granddaughter was to come on Wednesdays and the instructor answered "No" each time. During the last round of questioning, Grandma's cell phone rang. Mind you, the class had started by this time, but Grandma just started yammering into the phone, to the child's mother, "I AM JUST NOW CLARIFYING IF SHE IS SUPPOSED TO COME ON WEDNESDAYS." She then went on, squawking into the phone, about the day's events and what was for dinner. It took every ounce of my self control not to grab the F$%#!& phone and hurl it into the parking lot. Meanwhile, several members of the next class, which doesn't start until 5:15, always arrive early. There is a sitting room where they can wait, but oh no...their parents let them come into the workout room where they proceed to run around like maniacs and make a ruckus. One mother is also thoughtful enough to bring her son's 2-year-old sibling, who also runs around screaming like a lunatic. Here's an idea...keep your goddamn noisy kids in the waiting room until the instructor has finished her class. The irony is that karate is all about courtesy and respect, yet these parents display neither trait in either themselves or their ill-mannered children.
I guess the bottom line is, I am just a crab. I am sick of all these people who think their lives are so important, or that their kid's lives are so important, that they can just ignore any rules. Guess what? You are not the only person on Earth. No one gives a sh$@ about what's going on for dinner and everyone would appreciate it if you would keep your kids quiet for 5 minutes while another group finishes their task. I realize this requires you to think of someone other than you or your children, but I think you can do it if you really try.
For some reason unknown to me, parents - or anyone who brings the child to class, (e.g., a grandparent) - are allowed to stay and watch the class. To me this creates an unnecessary distraction, but what do I know?
Anyway, most parents are respectful; they sit quietly, watch the kids, or read a magazine. There is a HUGE sign at the entrance of the workout room that says "Please turn off all cell phones beyond this point." I assume this is so some moron's "You Shook Me All Night Long" ring tone won't disrupt the class. Of course, there always has to be one who believes this sign was meant for everyone but them; obviously, their business is so important that it trumps the rules.
I sit by myself during karate and either watch the class or read. I tried talking with the other parents, but after a while, their boring banter about whose child was the brightest turned me off to wanting anything to do with them. A few weeks ago a new girl joined the class. Her grandmother - a loud, annoying woman - brings her each week. Today, at the start of class, she grabbed the instructor and asked, "Is Sam supposed to come on Wednesdays now?" The instructor said, "No, not unless she's received a letter saying she's in the Wed. class." The grandmother went on to ask 3 other ways if her granddaughter was to come on Wednesdays and the instructor answered "No" each time. During the last round of questioning, Grandma's cell phone rang. Mind you, the class had started by this time, but Grandma just started yammering into the phone, to the child's mother, "I AM JUST NOW CLARIFYING IF SHE IS SUPPOSED TO COME ON WEDNESDAYS." She then went on, squawking into the phone, about the day's events and what was for dinner. It took every ounce of my self control not to grab the F$%#!& phone and hurl it into the parking lot. Meanwhile, several members of the next class, which doesn't start until 5:15, always arrive early. There is a sitting room where they can wait, but oh no...their parents let them come into the workout room where they proceed to run around like maniacs and make a ruckus. One mother is also thoughtful enough to bring her son's 2-year-old sibling, who also runs around screaming like a lunatic. Here's an idea...keep your goddamn noisy kids in the waiting room until the instructor has finished her class. The irony is that karate is all about courtesy and respect, yet these parents display neither trait in either themselves or their ill-mannered children.
I guess the bottom line is, I am just a crab. I am sick of all these people who think their lives are so important, or that their kid's lives are so important, that they can just ignore any rules. Guess what? You are not the only person on Earth. No one gives a sh$@ about what's going on for dinner and everyone would appreciate it if you would keep your kids quiet for 5 minutes while another group finishes their task. I realize this requires you to think of someone other than you or your children, but I think you can do it if you really try.
Friday, November 14, 2008
All I can is thank goodness there are plenty of idiots in this world; I will never run out of material. Our local newspaper is often a good source of amusement for me. It' s a nice little paper that publishes lots of positive stories about kids, families, and local events. However, the Letters to the Editor section often sends me into a complete and total dither.
Take for example one of the letters from this Friday's edition. A local woman started out a letter by saying "After an evening of discussing democracy and the United States election process, my 5-year-old daughter and I excitedly headed for the polls this morning." Hmmm, I tried to explain the election process to my five-year old and she said "So we are going to the library to get a new present?" So much for my explanation.
Anyway, the woman goes on to say, at great length, how her daughter was so happy to be part of the voting process and how everyone in line thought she was just a real charmer. Then she states -and I quote - "...the warm fuzzy camaraderie of the morning painfully and abruptly ended. A booming, disembodied voice yelled out 'Don't let the child touch the ballot!' " The author then goes on and on about how her poor child was so fearful and kept asking if she was "going to get in trouble". The woman ended the letter by saying she let the child place the ballot in the scanner, despite her being told not to do so. Well goody for her.
If we were allowed to write to the local paper anonymously here's what I'd write:
Dear Twit,
I read with interest the story of how your poor child was traumatized at the hands of our senior citizen poll volunteers this past Tuesday. I am so sorry that your poor baby was so terrified by that "booming, disembodied voice" who simply told you (an adult) not to let her touch the ballot. This must have been an awful experience indeed. Let me offer you some perspective into the real world to help you cope with this tragedy. Here are 5 things that might actually, really traumatize your child:
1. Her 4-year-old sister could die of a rare genetic disorder while her father is on his 3rd deployment in the Middle East.
2. She could have to endure months of radiation and chemotherapy (along with vomiting, hair loss, and fatigue) after being diagnosed with an inoperable cancerous brain tumor.
3. She could have to endure 5 years' worth of painful surgeries just to be able to eat, breathe and look like everyone else (sorry, had to get that in there).
4. She could have to endure painful infusions of life-saving antibodies every month just to say alive throughout the winter.
5. Her baby brother could die on an operating table during a surgery.
Lest you think I am being dramatic, these are things that have happened to people I know of during the last year.
And while you think about that, let me also thank you. Thank you for never letting your child understand the meaning of the word no. Thank you for showing her that the rules put forth by others don't apply to either you or her. Thank you for always being there to make sure she never experiences anything negative. I am sure she is a real joy to be around.
I certainly hope she recovers from her negative voting experience by the time she turns 18. On the other hand, maybe you'll both just stay away from the polls. I don't think I'd want either of you voting for prom queen nevermind the leader of the free world. All I can say is that I hope neither of you ever has to deal with anything truly painful; you'll both be really crappy at it.
Sincerely, The Whiner
Take for example one of the letters from this Friday's edition. A local woman started out a letter by saying "After an evening of discussing democracy and the United States election process, my 5-year-old daughter and I excitedly headed for the polls this morning." Hmmm, I tried to explain the election process to my five-year old and she said "So we are going to the library to get a new present?" So much for my explanation.
Anyway, the woman goes on to say, at great length, how her daughter was so happy to be part of the voting process and how everyone in line thought she was just a real charmer. Then she states -and I quote - "...the warm fuzzy camaraderie of the morning painfully and abruptly ended. A booming, disembodied voice yelled out 'Don't let the child touch the ballot!' " The author then goes on and on about how her poor child was so fearful and kept asking if she was "going to get in trouble". The woman ended the letter by saying she let the child place the ballot in the scanner, despite her being told not to do so. Well goody for her.
If we were allowed to write to the local paper anonymously here's what I'd write:
Dear Twit,
I read with interest the story of how your poor child was traumatized at the hands of our senior citizen poll volunteers this past Tuesday. I am so sorry that your poor baby was so terrified by that "booming, disembodied voice" who simply told you (an adult) not to let her touch the ballot. This must have been an awful experience indeed. Let me offer you some perspective into the real world to help you cope with this tragedy. Here are 5 things that might actually, really traumatize your child:
1. Her 4-year-old sister could die of a rare genetic disorder while her father is on his 3rd deployment in the Middle East.
2. She could have to endure months of radiation and chemotherapy (along with vomiting, hair loss, and fatigue) after being diagnosed with an inoperable cancerous brain tumor.
3. She could have to endure 5 years' worth of painful surgeries just to be able to eat, breathe and look like everyone else (sorry, had to get that in there).
4. She could have to endure painful infusions of life-saving antibodies every month just to say alive throughout the winter.
5. Her baby brother could die on an operating table during a surgery.
Lest you think I am being dramatic, these are things that have happened to people I know of during the last year.
And while you think about that, let me also thank you. Thank you for never letting your child understand the meaning of the word no. Thank you for showing her that the rules put forth by others don't apply to either you or her. Thank you for always being there to make sure she never experiences anything negative. I am sure she is a real joy to be around.
I certainly hope she recovers from her negative voting experience by the time she turns 18. On the other hand, maybe you'll both just stay away from the polls. I don't think I'd want either of you voting for prom queen nevermind the leader of the free world. All I can say is that I hope neither of you ever has to deal with anything truly painful; you'll both be really crappy at it.
Sincerely, The Whiner
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Trick or Crap
I don't recall when Halloween became a national holiday. It was always a cause for fun, but I don't ever remember it dominating the months of September and October. Don't get me wrong...as a kid, it was always a big deal. We would get a costume, either custom-made by Grandma Salamo, or bought from Kmart (or Masters) in a box with a clear cellophane top. The clear top allowed you to view the high-quality plastic mask inside, held tightly to your head by a thin rubber-band. The costume itself was large and flimsy, so it could be slipped easily over a winter coat, in a time before October brought 70-degree temperatures. We would try on the costumes at home and goof around. I think we had a few cardboard decorations; I think one was a skeleton that had metal fasteners at the limbs, so he could be bended different ways. We had a crepe paper pumpkin that you could open up into a sphere; the shape was held tight by a metal fastener. It then folded flat for storage. (I am sure my mother still has these in her attic.)
My recollection is that we would take these decorations out maybe a week - or two at the most - before Halloween and adorn our windows.It was fun and exciting. Halloween Day was fun too. I remember coming home from school and running into the house to put on our costumes. We would go Trick or Treating, up and down our street, exhausted mothers in tow, and get a huge bagful of candy. We would then go home around dinner time, spread out the candy on the livingroom floor, and trade. One Sugar Daddy (one of my personal favorites) for a Snickers. Two Starburst for a Chunky. We each got what we wanted and screamed if one of our poor parents wanted a taste of something. They were smart and waited until we were alsleep until they ate the candy. We ate the candy over a week or so, and moved on.
Today Halloween starts around August, right after the last Back-to-School notebook has been crammed into a side aisle at the store. Decorations, costumes, and all kinds of specially packaged candy are spilling out of the endcaps at every store imaginable by Labor Day. It's not just enough to have a costume and some candy. Oh noooooo....now, we must turn our house into a either a Horror Show or a Harvest Fair. The place must be decorated - inside and out - with various fall themes, complete with autumn-colored pillows, chachkis, blankets, candles, and novelty items. God forbid all you have is a pumpkin or two...that will never do! (Hey a rhyme!) The house must exude all that is autumn. Carefully planned Trick or Treat parties are a highlight of the day. No more going door-to-door; who knows "what evil lurks in the hearts of men." Halloween parties are contrived events, carefully coordinated by overprotective parents, to contain healthy snac ks, allergen-free goodies, hayrides, friendly scarecrows, and more crappy cheap toys than one can find at the Dollar Store.
I am not anti-Halloween; I am anti-excess, anti-stress, and anti-complicated. Put out a few decorations, get a simple costume, enjoy your candy and enjoy the day, for God's sake. All I heard, all friggin day, was how people "couldn't wait for Halloween to be over." Is this fun? I don't think so. A simple holiday shouldn't cause stress, cost a fortune, or promise to "fulfull everyone's dreams of a perfect day." It is what it is; parents with too much time on their hands shouldn't push their overrated ideas of perfection onto their children. They should allow them to be children and do what they want to do. After all, now that Halloween is over, everyone will be preparing for the perfect Christmas, and waiting for that to be "over with" so they can move onto the excess of Valentine's Day. Harumph.
My recollection is that we would take these decorations out maybe a week - or two at the most - before Halloween and adorn our windows.It was fun and exciting. Halloween Day was fun too. I remember coming home from school and running into the house to put on our costumes. We would go Trick or Treating, up and down our street, exhausted mothers in tow, and get a huge bagful of candy. We would then go home around dinner time, spread out the candy on the livingroom floor, and trade. One Sugar Daddy (one of my personal favorites) for a Snickers. Two Starburst for a Chunky. We each got what we wanted and screamed if one of our poor parents wanted a taste of something. They were smart and waited until we were alsleep until they ate the candy. We ate the candy over a week or so, and moved on.
Today Halloween starts around August, right after the last Back-to-School notebook has been crammed into a side aisle at the store. Decorations, costumes, and all kinds of specially packaged candy are spilling out of the endcaps at every store imaginable by Labor Day. It's not just enough to have a costume and some candy. Oh noooooo....now, we must turn our house into a either a Horror Show or a Harvest Fair. The place must be decorated - inside and out - with various fall themes, complete with autumn-colored pillows, chachkis, blankets, candles, and novelty items. God forbid all you have is a pumpkin or two...that will never do! (Hey a rhyme!) The house must exude all that is autumn. Carefully planned Trick or Treat parties are a highlight of the day. No more going door-to-door; who knows "what evil lurks in the hearts of men." Halloween parties are contrived events, carefully coordinated by overprotective parents, to contain healthy snac ks, allergen-free goodies, hayrides, friendly scarecrows, and more crappy cheap toys than one can find at the Dollar Store.
I am not anti-Halloween; I am anti-excess, anti-stress, and anti-complicated. Put out a few decorations, get a simple costume, enjoy your candy and enjoy the day, for God's sake. All I heard, all friggin day, was how people "couldn't wait for Halloween to be over." Is this fun? I don't think so. A simple holiday shouldn't cause stress, cost a fortune, or promise to "fulfull everyone's dreams of a perfect day." It is what it is; parents with too much time on their hands shouldn't push their overrated ideas of perfection onto their children. They should allow them to be children and do what they want to do. After all, now that Halloween is over, everyone will be preparing for the perfect Christmas, and waiting for that to be "over with" so they can move onto the excess of Valentine's Day. Harumph.
Sucking the Joy Out of Our Children's Lives
It seems today that is has become trendy for parents to make a pre-emptive strike against anything that may cause their children frivolous happiness. Television shows devoid of educational value, games that do not teach a second language, or activities that can’t be placed on an application to Harvard are deemed worthless. And the food issues…oh where do I begin?
Some parents feel that any food that passes their children’s lips must be organic; holistic; free of sugar, chemicals and dyes; and not contain a gram of hydrogenated oil or high fructose corn syrup. That leaves them the options of celery and Earthy Bob’s Tofu Bites. While I admire the enthusiasm, albeit naïve enthusiasm, of these mothers to encourage healthy eating habits, I find the whole thing just a bit tiresome. This is the same brigade that is asking schools to ban children from bringing celebratory cupcakes, Munchins, or other treats to school for their birthdays. Is there anything more important to a young child than his or her birthday? Hell, I would get pissed if someone told me I couldn’t have treats with my friends on my birthday and I’m 41. It’s as if these parents are walking around with a giant vacuum, busily sucking the joy out of children’s lives.
“Don’t eat too much sugar, you’ll be hyper!”
“Don’t watch any cartoons; they are junk food for the brain!”
“Don’t go trick or treating, you’ll be kidnapped by pedophiles!”
“Make sure that you ask for extra homework…you’ll be better for it in the long run!”
Now I admit, not every part of my childhood was filled with happiness. I went to Catholic School, which was so boring I could literally hear the moments of my young life falling to the ground and dying while some nun or underpaid lay teacher droned on about God knows what.
Lunch is the one piece of the school day I remember fondly. When I was little, I had a tin lunch box, complete with matching thermos. I think my first one was Snoopy and then I graduated to Kroft Superstars around 3rd grade. By 5th grade it was the brown paper sack. Lunch was pretty consistent: sandwich (usually bologna; pb&j; or Chicken Spread, my personal favorite). The sandwich was accompanied by Hawaiian Punch and either a bag of chips or a Hostess cake. Sometimes it was both. Yes, that’s right; my mother packed me chips AND a Twinkie. And I loved it. Twinkies, Devil Dogs, Ring Dings, Yodels, I loved them all. Oh and those little coffee cakes! To die for!
Could you imagine if I tried to bring that same lunch to school today? First I’d have to be inspected to ensure that my food did not contain any traces of tree nuts, which could send a less hardy child into a coma. Then, I’d have to be seated away from the peanut-free, dairy-free, and fun-free tables so I could eat. After lunch I’d be made to stand on a podium, a scarlet S (for sugar) slapped onto my tee shirt. “See that little girl? She ate a Twinkie and a bag of chips in one day and now her eating habits will be destroyed, destroyed I tell you!”
I tell you all this because at a recent PTA meeting we were discussing the reward our students would receive if they collected enough box tops or whatever to generate $500 for the school. The PTA president, a seasoned mother of three, suggested giving each child an ice cream pop one day at lunch near the end of the school year. Simple, easy, and best yet, no volunteers required. From the back of the room, a hand shot up: A mother, the earnest parent of a new kindergartener, said smugly, “I work with a nutrition cooperative and we are trying to discourage people from using food as a reward.”
Had I not been in a room with other parents and teachers, I likely would have said, “It’s one f$#@!%^* ice cream pop on one f$#@!%^* day of the school year. It will not destroy your precious organic baby’s health or encourage him to become obese in any way. So, unless you’re planning on personally handing out cash as a reward, zip it and go along with the program.”
I will admit that I try to adhere to a healthy diet; I am conscious of the food choices I make and try to stay within reasonable guidelines. I try to eat things in moderation, although I am not sure if drinking a bottle of Malbec while polishing off half a quart of Ben & Jerry’s would be considered moderate. However, I try to quash the binges by eating healthy when I can and encouraging my family to do so.
Now does this mean that I don’t enjoy the occasional (all right, thrice weekly) sugar-laden treat? Hardly. I love gummi bears, Dots, gum drops, and anything with the name Godiva printed on it. I happily eat any dessert whenever I get to a restaurant and on birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, Saint Feast Days, and Fridays. But treats are fun and they are delicious and they are part of living, for God’s sake. So swallow the sugar, the cake, the ice cream and enjoy life…and stop trying to prevent your children from doing so.
Some parents feel that any food that passes their children’s lips must be organic; holistic; free of sugar, chemicals and dyes; and not contain a gram of hydrogenated oil or high fructose corn syrup. That leaves them the options of celery and Earthy Bob’s Tofu Bites. While I admire the enthusiasm, albeit naïve enthusiasm, of these mothers to encourage healthy eating habits, I find the whole thing just a bit tiresome. This is the same brigade that is asking schools to ban children from bringing celebratory cupcakes, Munchins, or other treats to school for their birthdays. Is there anything more important to a young child than his or her birthday? Hell, I would get pissed if someone told me I couldn’t have treats with my friends on my birthday and I’m 41. It’s as if these parents are walking around with a giant vacuum, busily sucking the joy out of children’s lives.
“Don’t eat too much sugar, you’ll be hyper!”
“Don’t watch any cartoons; they are junk food for the brain!”
“Don’t go trick or treating, you’ll be kidnapped by pedophiles!”
“Make sure that you ask for extra homework…you’ll be better for it in the long run!”
Now I admit, not every part of my childhood was filled with happiness. I went to Catholic School, which was so boring I could literally hear the moments of my young life falling to the ground and dying while some nun or underpaid lay teacher droned on about God knows what.
Lunch is the one piece of the school day I remember fondly. When I was little, I had a tin lunch box, complete with matching thermos. I think my first one was Snoopy and then I graduated to Kroft Superstars around 3rd grade. By 5th grade it was the brown paper sack. Lunch was pretty consistent: sandwich (usually bologna; pb&j; or Chicken Spread, my personal favorite). The sandwich was accompanied by Hawaiian Punch and either a bag of chips or a Hostess cake. Sometimes it was both. Yes, that’s right; my mother packed me chips AND a Twinkie. And I loved it. Twinkies, Devil Dogs, Ring Dings, Yodels, I loved them all. Oh and those little coffee cakes! To die for!
Could you imagine if I tried to bring that same lunch to school today? First I’d have to be inspected to ensure that my food did not contain any traces of tree nuts, which could send a less hardy child into a coma. Then, I’d have to be seated away from the peanut-free, dairy-free, and fun-free tables so I could eat. After lunch I’d be made to stand on a podium, a scarlet S (for sugar) slapped onto my tee shirt. “See that little girl? She ate a Twinkie and a bag of chips in one day and now her eating habits will be destroyed, destroyed I tell you!”
I tell you all this because at a recent PTA meeting we were discussing the reward our students would receive if they collected enough box tops or whatever to generate $500 for the school. The PTA president, a seasoned mother of three, suggested giving each child an ice cream pop one day at lunch near the end of the school year. Simple, easy, and best yet, no volunteers required. From the back of the room, a hand shot up: A mother, the earnest parent of a new kindergartener, said smugly, “I work with a nutrition cooperative and we are trying to discourage people from using food as a reward.”
Had I not been in a room with other parents and teachers, I likely would have said, “It’s one f$#@!%^* ice cream pop on one f$#@!%^* day of the school year. It will not destroy your precious organic baby’s health or encourage him to become obese in any way. So, unless you’re planning on personally handing out cash as a reward, zip it and go along with the program.”
I will admit that I try to adhere to a healthy diet; I am conscious of the food choices I make and try to stay within reasonable guidelines. I try to eat things in moderation, although I am not sure if drinking a bottle of Malbec while polishing off half a quart of Ben & Jerry’s would be considered moderate. However, I try to quash the binges by eating healthy when I can and encouraging my family to do so.
Now does this mean that I don’t enjoy the occasional (all right, thrice weekly) sugar-laden treat? Hardly. I love gummi bears, Dots, gum drops, and anything with the name Godiva printed on it. I happily eat any dessert whenever I get to a restaurant and on birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, Saint Feast Days, and Fridays. But treats are fun and they are delicious and they are part of living, for God’s sake. So swallow the sugar, the cake, the ice cream and enjoy life…and stop trying to prevent your children from doing so.
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