The gym’s a silly place if you really pay attention. Because Wednesday is nothing more than a reminder there are still two more days to the workweek, I thought some musings might make for an entertaining break:

1. Old women have confidence, but sometimes that’s not a good thing. Eighty-year-old fake-n-baked woman at my gym with strange stomach wrinkles who wears a white sports bra and old spandex, I’m looking at you.

2. Leg presses tone your butt. Just when you think you’ve pumped your quads into submission you feel a deep ache in the butt. Yup, the exercise works that bigtime.

3. If you plan on doing reverse crunches, yoga, or other twisty poses, loose shorts aren’t the best idea. Thirtysomething woman who wears short shorts (and, thankfully, underwear) to contort, I’m talking to you.

4. Vitamins, protein shakes, workout clothes, and water double in price when they enter a gym.

5. 7 pm is the worst time to hit the gym if you plan to use cardio equipment, free weights, weight machines, Bosu balls, exercise balls, the exercise mat…

6. Modesty isn’t always the word of the day in the locker room. That’s unfortunate.

7. People who chit chat on their cell while stair climbing don’t get the whole exercise thing.

8. Lots of times, men wimp out faster than women.

photo by d_vdm

9. The more muscular the man, the more likely he is to check himself out in the mirror.

10. Wet machines aren’t always the result of sanitizing spray.

11. If you’re only going to wear a sports bar, make sure it isn’t pink and shaped like a push-up.

12. Some people are coordinated enough to dance while running. (Not me.)

13. Some people are rude enough to loudly laugh and point at dancing runners.

14. An hourlong TV show makes cardio fly by.

15. Irony rules. You can get your heart racing with cardio, pump yourself up with weights, get a protein-packed smoothie, buy a gazillion bottles of vitamins, get a massage and … hop in the tanning booth?

Do you have any funny gym tales?

There are usually four ways I react to scientific studies.

The first, is what I call No Duh. That’s what I felt when I read about researchers who actually spent money to learn high heels can cause heel and ankle pain. Obviously these were men.

The second is what I call No Way! As in: Really? I never in a million years would have guessed that and yet it’s right here on my computer screen. It’s usually accompanied by wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

The third, I like to call Not Again… These are the studies that deem a formerly evil thing (a food, action, habit, you name it) really, really, ridiculously good for your health. You can spot these by the key words “surprise,” “astonishingly,” and “changes everything we thought about…”

The fourth is called Errr? That’s the sound I make when I read one of these studies that doesn’t make any logical sense. That’s the type of study I read about on the New York Times today.

The study involved 19,220 women age 39 and older. The researchers followed their drinking habits for 13 years then categorized the women as light or regular drinkers. Ready for the Errr? moment? The nondrinkers in the group gained more weight (nine pounds) over the years than those who imbibed (three pounds). The chances of being overweight were 30 percent lower for drinkers than teetotalers.

photo by rogiro

So, let me get this straight: Alcohol is high in calories? Yes. But the big drinkers gained less? Yes. Huh? That’s what I thought.

A can of beer has more than 150 calories. Five ounces of wine (the amount in a typical glass) has about 120. And a single shot of alcohol has close to 100 calories.

So, what’s the cause for the weight discrepancy? The Times article didn’t really give a final solution, but it did mention that women who drank alcohol reported they replaced food calories with alcohol calories. So, yeah, I guess that includes women who skip dinner to binge into the wee hours. Not the healthiest decision, which makes this study all the more interesting. How important is plain old weight when other factors—like unhealthy habits of picking alcohol calories over food—come into play?

On the flip side, drinkers might have other healthy habits. Someone might drink one or two glasses of wine a night—hey, it’s heart healthy!—with a home-cooked meal. The nondrinker may drink an alcohol-free Pepsi in the drive-thru.

In the end, I’m left without an impetus to booze it up nightly. I like a glass of wine every now and again, but even hearing about the magical effects of resveratrol (much of which is overblown, but whatever) I can’t drink a glass a night. For starters, I like to have water with a meal. I get thirsty, people!

On top of that, wine, red in particular, tends to make my already stuffy nose even more closed-up. It will also give me a headache if I’m super congested or it happens to be the right bottle of tannins. I love a good glass, but I’m not convinced downing a bottle will help me any.

What about you? Do you have a glass of alcohol with dinner? Do you do it because it’s healthy or because you love wine/beer/hard liquor (thank you very much)?

For doing absolutely nothing at all, I had a pretty productive weekend. Sorta. I may have taken it easy a bit, but I did get to the gym (yes, that’s a big, fat positive DID), read a good book, and left my apartment clean enough that you could eat off its floors. (Though I’d advise against that.)

Of course on Sunday night I was glued to the television for the Academy Awards. Ever since I was old enough to realize movies were made by directors and film crews, and that the people on the screen are just playing pretend, I’ve been a huge fan of the yearly Oscars hoopla. My sister and I would always tear out the Oscar ballot Entertainment Weekly published back in the day (this was back before the magical Internet made it possible to learn every single thing about a movie without seeing it; I’m not sure if the magazine publishes this list anymore). We’d make our guesses and watch Oscar night as names were called.

I was there the night Gwyneth Paltrow in her bubblegum pink dress won for Shakespeare in Love. I watched as Roberto Benigni climbed across seat backs to accept the award for his role in Life is Beautiful. And I remember when Adrian Brody won for his role in The Pianist and planted a big wet one on Halle Berry. I could go on and bore you until you clicked away, but that’s not good blogging is it?

So I’ll just say I really enjoy the Oscars.

As a brief aside, let’s chitchat about the Oscar dresses a bit. Here’s my three-second recap: Sandra Bullock wore the best dress last night and looked like a true Oscar winner (though she was my least favorite choice in that category). Kate Winslet looked like an old Hollywood star. Jennifer Lopez widened her hips with a fat, stiff bow. And Queen Latifa looked glowing. Oh, and The Hurt Locker cleaned up.

photo by bunchofpants

In that spirit, I made some fun popcorn and hunkered down with The Man. The night’s over, but that doesn’t mean these variations on the concession stand favorite are old news. (It’s fun to split a bag and make a bunch of these different types in small portion sizes. And you can make these the newfangled way—microwavable bags—in a popcorn popper, or on the stove.) Think of them the next time you have a movie night.

Plain ol’ buttered popcorn: Heat up a tablespoon of butter. Put popcorn into a Ziploc bag and pour melted butter in slowly, closing to shake as you work through the butter.

Parmesan: Start with buttered popcorn, then add freshly grated parmesan to the mix.

Cocoa: Mix hot popcorn with cocoa powder in a plastic bag.

Spicy: Add a tablespoon of sugar, ½ a teaspoon of cinnamon, and ½ a teaspoon of pumpkin pie spice to a tablespoon of melted butter. Pour over popcorn in a plastic bag. Shake it all up.

Trail mix: Mix popcorn with dark chocolate chips, dried fruit, and pumpkin seeds.

Hot pop: Mix a tablespoon of melted butter and hot sauce to taste. Pour it into a plastic bag full of popcorn and shake it around. You can bake this for a few minutes if you’d like, just let it cool slightly before eating.

Honey-lemon: I love this idea I found online and slightly modified. Mix ½ cup honey, 1/8 cup water, ½ tablespoon lemon juice and bring to a rapid boil. Boil and stir constantly for two minutes. Pour over a pan that contains one bag of popcorn. Bake for 15 minutes, tossing every five minutes. Stir again once you remove it from the oven. Let it cool.

Enjoy! What are your favorite or unique ways to eat popcorn? (And if you watched the awards, who was your favorite? Who looked terrible? Favorite parts?)

Hooray for Friday. (Do I say that every week? It’s because I really mean it.) Hope you’ve all had a great week so far. The Man and I are in a money-saving mood so tonight we’re making a home-cooked dinner instead of going out to eat. When you can’t really do much physically, eating out is about the only way to get out of the house. I know, thrilling.

I don’t know about you, but this weekend’s shaping up to be ho-hum. I’m going to do a little writing, probably clean, and most definitely organize. And if I don’t go to the gym both days, I’m blogging my address and asking anyone within a 50 mile radius to come over and beat me up. (All right, so I’m being a little dramatic.)

Most weekends I have big dreams but rarely get everything done I need to. (See last weekend’s failed gym attempts.) So here you go—my list of dreams and the unfortunate reality:

photo by alex dram

Dream: Frolic in the 80 degree temps wearing a tank top and flip flops.

Reality: Bundle up and hope it’s not rainy and freezing.

photo by lincolnian

Dream: Go for a walk in the park. I might even skip a little bit depending on who’s watching.

Reality: Sit on the couch after too much cleaning has caused my knees to ache.

photo by priscila fasterra

Dream: Go to dinner and a movie with The Man. Only this time there’s no wait for dinner. And there are no rowdy teens in the theater. (I sound old, I know. But even as a teen I had no tolerance for talking in the theater. I’ve yelled at a few smart-alecky men in my day.)

Reality: Skip dinner and a movie because we’re saving money. But if we did go, it’d certainly involve an hour wait for a table and some mid-movie texting. So not LOL.

photo by squid!
That’s pretty much how I look in the morning.

Dream: Wake up at a reasonable hour each day so my body doesn’t go into a warped weekend mode. Start the day off right with exercise and a big bowl of steel cut oats.

Reality: Wake up at 10:30, feel guilty that I slept in, and eat a small breakfast because it’s so close to lunchtime.

photo by dave_b_

Dream: Get a last-minute invite to the Oscars. To walk the red carpet. In the most perfect gown ever. Make Penelope Cruz jealous.

Reality: Watch the Oscars on TV with The Man. And spend the entire show explaining who everyone is. As in: “Him? That’s Steve Martin. You know him from Father of the Bride.”

What are your weekend wishes? And what do you really intend to do?

You all had some great insight into yesterday’s discussion about kids’ chronic snacking. If you didn’t get a chance to read it, check it out here and leave your thoughts. I think going forward with the rising rates of obesity, the topic of emotional eating versus eating for hunger is going to continue being a big issue.

A couple people mentioned the fact that kids today are also moving less. That’s a whole other problem, but they go hand in hand, right? Well today I read about a study on our lack of movement. (Nope, this trial didn’t involve kids, but you can see how it could apply to the video game generation, too.)

I understand the irony of what I’m about to say seeing as I’m hooked on five—count ’em: five—TV shows. (If you’re curious, they’re Lost, 24, Fringe, Bones, and Heroes in that order.) Anyhow, turns out twenty- and thirtysomethings who watch more TV are more likely to develop risk factors for heart disease by the time they hit their 40s.

What’s Exercise Got to do With It?
Of course, my first reaction was, Well at least I exercise. That’s got to count for something, right? Um, no. According to the study, which was presented at an American Heart Association conference yesterday, there’s still a link between risk factors for heart disease (such as high cholesterol, BMI and blood pressure) and TV time even when amount of physical activity is taken into consideration. The researchers say the harm done by sitting on your bum and zoning out to the tube can’t be reversed with exercise.

photo by laverrue
Even monkeys love Lost. Look at that little thumb!

There’s another down side: Watching TV ups your chances of eating a high-calorie diet and flat-out unhealthy foods. Add to that the fact that sitting in front of the television is just an extension of the sitting we do all day, and it becomes clearer why those glued to the tube ended up worse off.

The study makes sense to me, but I don’t quite understand why exercise doesn’t reverse the risk factors. (Though the researchers did say those who worked out fared better than the completely sedentary.) I like to think that it’s OK to chill out after a long day as long as I get some exercise beforehand.

The more I look at my day, I realize I do sit too much. My job revolves around a desk, a chair, and a computer. At home—minus what time I spend cooking, cleaning, or at the gym—I spend time on the computer … and the couch. Thankfully, though, I don’t have any of the risk factors this study mentioned. And I’m hoping my trips to the gym keep it that way—even if that goes against the study’s findings.

photo by ooh_food
Yeah, I wish. My desk is really in a cubicle.
Not nearly as bright and inviting.

Take A Seat
On another note, there’s a different part of having a desk job that drives me nutso: Keeping my hands in a permanent state of typing (or on the mouse) makes my fingers feel about 50. My wrists get sore. And I’m pretty sure I have the beginnings of carpal tunnel. Anyone else experience this thanks to a little too much computer lovin’?

If that weren’t enough, sitting at my desk for nine hours a day has left my back as twisted as a Stanley Kubrick movie. I can feel the knots in my upper back and shoulders, and no amount of self-massage will get those babies to go away. (A massage is definitely in order. Free massages are one thing I massively miss from my beauty editor days. Can I add that to my birthday wish list?)

Lastly, staring at a computer is doing wonders for my vision. I want to post more about this at a later date, after I’ve read the science behind it. Here’s my deal: I’ve had horrible vision since third grade, but ever since I started working full time my eyesight has declined steeply. My eye doc agrees: Staring at a computer for hours isn’t great for our eyes. Expect a bigger and better post on this in the future.

What do you think of this study? How much TV do you watch each night or each week? For those who work at a desk: Do you notice any wear and tear on your body from all that sitting? And if you don’t work at a desk … does your job get you moving?

photo by wynlok

So it seems the consensus is that The Man should get his butt to the personal training table and sign up for a couple sessions. That’s what he plans to do and, after that, he’ll decide whether he’s ready to go forth on his own or stick with a trainer until a list of exercises is burned into his brain. Or until we go broke. Thanks for all of your feedback. Did I ever tell you that you guys rock?

Today during lunch (at which time I ate a heavenly turkey bacon BLT and wondered why I don’t pack those more often) I read a great article on the New York Times Well blog. In it, the writer explained how over the past 30 years American kids are getting more and more calories from snacks. What she didn’t mean was that kids are eating six small, snack-like meals a day consisting of yogurt, fruit, nuts, veggies, and whole grains. What she did mean is that kids are supplementing three full meals with the kind of crap you find at 7-Eleven: chips, cookies, and sugary drinks, probably including those mysteriously bright-colored Slurpies. The kids are eating pretty much ’round the clock, according to research.

“My underlying fear is that we’re moving away from being hungry and eating for satiation to just eating,” said Barry M. Popkin, co-author of the study and director of nutrition epidemiology at the University of North Carolina. “Food is there, and we eat.”

What with the current obesity epidemic—thanks to which most kids will live shorter lives than their parents and end up with diseases like type 2 diabetes—the nonstop snacking sounds about right. I guess eating packaged foods will do that to you.

(I want to clarify: We’re not talking about healthful snacking here. It’s not such a bad thing to eat several smallish meals during the day and call them snacks.)

The question is, what’s made kids constant snackers? I feel like an old fogy saying this, but in my day we at three meals a day plus one post-school snack that kept us full between 1 p.m, when school got out, and some time around 6.

No kid should be expected to eat breakfast at 6 a.m., lunch around 11:30 and dinner at 6 p.m. But the type of snack? That’s another issue. Perhaps kids’ afternoon snacks have morphed from healthy fruit and whole grain crackers or popcorn to quick-and-easy Doritos or some other food that turns fingers orange.

photo by bunchofpants
Remember these? I used to beg my mother for Hostess Sno Balls.

Or it could be a matter of hunger. Chips and cookies and all the other fun stuff keep most people full for a good 4 to 5 minutes before they tell your brain to fire up the hungry hormones. It could be that kids are so snacky because they aren’t eating stuff that fills them up, like apples, which are high in fiber, or some whole wheat (fiber) crackers and yogurt (protein).

Maybe things in school have changed since I walked those hallways. We never had vending machines to fuel our mid-morning salty-crunchy craving. And we didn’t have soda machines to answer the afternoon call for sweets. There was breakfast—the DIY kind you make at home before the bus pulls up at the ungodly hour of 6:45 a.m. Then there was lunch—usually a bring-your-own version, but it might be something the lunch ladies cooked up if you were forgetful, lazy, or just unlucky. Maybe all the snacking is coming from junk eaten between classes.

I’m not sure what the solution is—this is a blog, people, not a manifesto I plan to hand-deliver to the powers that be. Some responsibility must obviously lie with the parents. It’s their job to teach their kids about nutrition and what makes for a healthy meal. And, frankly, it’s their job to say “No” when a child asks—for the 7 gazillionth time—to have a candy bar an hour before dinner. What’s the point in being a mother if you can’t crush their little dreams every once in a while? (Kidding.)

But perhaps health class should also focus on healthful eating. I can’t remember exactly what I learned about in health—aside from that year in fifth grade when they split up the boys and girls—but I don’t think it was anything earth shattering. A little primer on nutrition might be better than describing the ins and outs of peer pressure yet again.

What are your thoughts on Generation Snack? Are you a snacker?

I used to be the kind of exerciser who bopped from machine to machine until I worked out on every last one. It helped that the gym labeled them. I’d start with No. 1 and pump my way down the line until I hit 30. Done!

Now that I’ve been through physical therapy, I have a set of leg-strengthening exercises to choose from each day. I have a bunch of abs moves I throw into the mix. And, yeah, I work my way down the arms machine line before picking up the free weights and lifting. What I’m trying to say is, over the years I’ve learned more than a few exercises I bust out at the gym.

The Man? Er, not so much.

The Man spent his formative years on one sports team or another, so he’s kind of lost all by himself in the gym. Sure, he’s mastered the treadmill, bike, and elliptical. But when it comes to lifting, he wanders the gym like a little puppy sniffing out a good place to bury its bone. He does the whole machine thing, working his way down the line. Then, the minute he walks out of the weight room he piddles around until I’m ready to head out.

Which is why he’s thinking about getting a personal trainer. Here’s the deal:

Pro

• The Man will have someone telling him exactly what to do. He won’t have to wonder about other ways to challenge his muscles. He won’t stare at the exercise mat like it’s an equation for nuclear fusion.
• He’ll get tips on doing abs work—the most evil of all exercises in his opinion. Right now, he simply does a set of crunches and the plank pose before walking it off.
• Even if he only goes for a few sessions, he’ll take away a good number of moves that he can build on later.
• Since The Man tends to go easy on himself, a personal trainer would push him harder than he could push himself. You know, like when he wants to quit after 10 squats with a kettle bell, a trainer would tell him to shut up and do 40 more.
• With a personal training appointment, The Man (and me since I go with him) will be held accountable to going to the gym. I consider that a bonus.

Con

• Each session is $50 a pop. Is it just me or is that high? If he went once a week for a month, that’s $200. Yeah, that’s all I’ve got: cost. And, frankly, it’s a big one. We already pay $45 per month a piece. In case you were wondering, we aren’t made of mullah.

We’re still on the fence here. So we’re looking to you: What are your thoughts on personal training? Do you have a trainer? If you don’t mind sharing, how much do you pay per session? Is it worth it?

Welcome back to the workweek, all.

I had one of those weekends where I simultaneously felt like I got a lot done and did nothing at all. (With a little failure and guilt thrown in for a good measure.) Don’t ask me how that works.

We got a lot done…
While I plugged away at some editing for work, The Man put together a bookcase and two nightstands from Ikea. He’s pretty awesome at deciphering those instructions, which is a talent seeing as they’re drawn by 5-year-old Swedes.

Of course, buying new furniture never stops at construction. So I took a break from work to rearrange our bedroom. Sounds easy, right? Well, it would have been except one of our walls is slanted. (Someone must have thought, “Wouldn’t it be fancy and special if the far wall was tilted?” They were wrong. It’s just annoying.) Since I like symmetry and parallel walls, it took about forever to find a setup where I didn’t feel like all my furniture was askew.

photo from ooh_food
Obviously these aren’t mine.

We did nothing at all…
All that rearranging got me in the mood to tackle the big To Do that’s been lurking on my list: buy a coffee table and chair. I would show you our perfect coffee table, but I struck out big-time. Somehow I can’t reconcile my big-budget style with my actual bank account. So the search goes on.

I would also like to show you our amazing new armchair. But that would mean I bought one. And if I had bought one, that would mean I had won the comfort vs. style fight with The Man. (Yes, the same Man who insists a Redskins recliner would fit with our style.) Since I don’t believe in sports team recliners, we’re at an impasse. Or, rather, I’m still working on convincing The Man he’s past his bachelor pad and recliner days.

Not buying a chair or coffee table took up a good amount of time. And the rest of the weekend was taken up by more work. I can see you’re all jealous.

I kinda failed…
Did you notice what wasn’t on my weekend list? I’m ashamed to say, I didn’t set foot in the gym. I don’t feel guilt because of weight loss or maintenance, but instead I feel like I’m letting my knees down each time I don’t work out. Each time I skip is a missed opportunity to strengthen the muscles around my knees. Bottom line: I failed this weekend.

All that said, I’m kind of impressed with my knees. I was pretty active with the bedroom rearranging (though The Man did all of the actual lifting and moving). But I did all of my own walking when we visited three furniture stores. And most of the time I walked with him to the car. (Hint: That’s a big deal.) Sure, I was tired by Sunday afternoon. But I was also a lot less tired than I would have been a year ago. Or even six months ago.

So, despite the fact that I’m glum about my lack of gym time I’m excited that all my shopping hasn’t left me limping. Sure, my knees got tired walking through the stores, but I seemed to rebound fairly fast. That has to be a good sign. Right? Right?

Speaking of the gym, I’ve been very clear about what motivates me to lace up my sneakers and get moving. But I’m curious what keeps you going. Is it how you feel during or after exercise? Did an illness or injury spur you on? Is it for weight loss?

There’s no birth certificate, so I can only guess. My work computer was born some time around 1995. Most days, it drags along like an old man with emphysema trying hard to choke out a long story.

Sometimes I’m patient and listen to the whole story—bearing each painful breath between breaks. Mostly, though, I just wish I could pull the plug.

“Open my e-mail, Microsoft Word, and the Internet,” I’ll say with three double clicks. At first, it stares at me like it’s waiting for a whistle or sign or smoke signal. Or maybe it’s just trying to understand my demand.

I imagine it thinks, So much to do! Such tiresome tasks! Should I open e-mail first? Or maybe Word? But the Internet is so nice. And what if I can’t get the e-mail open at once? Should I try to perfect that before I start on the others? What to do?

On a good day, I jostle it from a deep sleep at 8 a.m. By 8:20 it’s rearing to go, and I’m done longing for the Mac I have at home. By 9 I’ve finished reading e-mails and eating breakfast. If all goes well, my computer hasn’t yet taken a nap.

But yesterday it conspired with the rest of technology to thwart my plans.

I’m getting ahead of myself. It all started on Monday.

My trusty telephone headset—the one that looks like a clunky prop from Working Girl—went on strike early in the morning. I fiddled with the headphone and microphone but they both seemed fine. And then I opened the phone connector. White battery acid crusted the device’s insides like cancer.

I begged IT—you’ll agree, a company’s most reliable department—for a new headset all day. They finally pulled through Tuesday when I frantically mentioned my interview. Life was back on track. I thought. And then I phoned my source.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hi, this is Tracey…” I started.

“Hello??”

“Hi, is Helen there?”

“Um, hello?”

“Crap.”

Ok. I didn’t say that one out loud. I said it in my head. As I hung up. I tried moving the headphone hookup to another jack on the device. A high-pitched tone pierced my ear. I tried moving a few knobs. Loud shriek. I set it to another frequency. SHRIEK!

So I ran to my co-worker’s cubicle, grabbed her headset (thus disabling her phone), and called my source again.

All was going smooth. She could hear me. I could hear her. Life was back on track. The interview was going well. Then, about 10 minutes in, the power went out. My cubicle was dark except for a sliver of light that zigzagged its way from the far window, around two file cabinets, and over my shoulder. My computer, which housed all of my interview questions, went into a coma. So I did what any self-respecting journalist would do: I kept the interview going despite the fact that I couldn’t remember that really great question I just had to ask.

photo by aftab

The power decided to return the minute I ended my interview. I poked my computer’s face and jostled the mouse until my it woke from its slumber. We proceeded with the same game we played that morning: E-mail, Word, or Internet? Oh my! This time, though, my computer was a bit groggy. It can get like that after a long midday nap. It yawned while opening e-mail and let out a few hiccups while loading the Internet. (We tried the whole Internet thing more than a few times.)

By the time 5 p.m. rolled around, the office had lost power three more times. I became suspicious that technology was out to get me. Maybe it was a big conspiracy to thwart my article writing. Maybe it wanted to show me that it’s still boss.

But you know what? It was wrong. I’m still boss. Which is why, at 5:01 p.m., I shut it off for good. I pulled the plug. It’s going to the great landfill where all computers go when they’re more than a few years old and not Macs.

Come Monday morning I’ll have another slow-as-dirt PC to fill its place. It’ll be sharper than its ancestor but no more motivated. It’ll give a big stretch and sigh each morning as it loads my complicated tasks. It might freak out every once in a while when life starts moving too fast. Most days I’ll be thankful it’s not the ancient computer I used to have. But some days, just some, I might be tempted to pull the plug.

You guys rock. No, really. I’ve been reading all of the awesome comments you’ve left this week and it makes me so happy. There: Another thing that makes me happy. Add that to yesterday’s list.

Anyhow, just thought you should know.

This week has been dragging along as always—I think I have a chronic case of the Wednesdays—and despite our better judgment The Man and I put off grocery shopping for yet another day. Well, really, we made him put off grocery shopping since I don’t go. Yeah, he’s swell. So it looks like another painfully boring peanut butter and jelly sandwich for me today. (That’s only fun in a nostalgic kind of way when you don’t eat them for a week straight. Trust me.)

So I want to preface this post by telling you that I love kids. I think they’re great. I think they’re cute, especially when they say crazy things like, “You have really yellow teeth.” (Not that my sister did that or anything when she was three.) I have three insanely adorable nephews who make me laugh and smile every time I see them.

But…

As much as parents would like to bubble wrap their little bundles of joy, it ain’t gonna happen. They’re going to fall and scrape their knees. They’ll eat something disgusting and live to see another day. They’ll stick Cheerios up their nose and need a trip to the doctor. (Not that I put Cheerios up my sister’s nose when she was three.)

That’s why I had to laugh when I read that a group of pediatricians, writing in the March issue of the journal Pediatrics, want to redesign cylindrical or round foods and candies so they’re not choking hazards to children. Goodbye hot dogs, hello mystery meat patties. See ya, lollipops. Hello flat slabs of hard sugar.

photo by roboppy

OK, so here’s what two of them say: “Any food that has a cylindrical or round shape poses a risk.” And “people should know that grapes are a choking hazard for a certain-age child, that hot dogs are of risk.” They also point fingers at peanuts, peanut butter, and hard candy. They call for the government to create a mandatory system of labeling foods choking hazards and for a redesign of the worst offenders.

Now, I’m not saying that choking isn’t a risk for little kids. I think it’s serious. (Don’t believe me? The report says the most common cause of death in kids under age 5 is choking.) But is turning a hot dog into Spam really the answer? For starters, what parent doesn’t cut their 1-year-old’s hot dog? And isn’t the same person who gives little tykes hard candies the one who’s not going to care about the Lego’s he’s eating between meals?

I also wonder what a warning will do. These days, we’re so inundated with warnings it’s hard to really pay attention. Our coffee cup reminds us that coffee is hot. Our aspirin bottle warns us not to take the med if we’re allergic to aspirin. And baby strollers remind parents to remove their children before storing. So, really, what will another caution accomplish? I can see it now: Warning! Hot dogs may cause choking. Not suitable for consumption by minors.

(If you’re up for a laugh or eye roll, check out this list of stupid warning labeles. A couple of my favorites? “Wearing of this garment does not enable you to fly,” on a child’s Superman costume. And “Warning! This is not underwear! Do not attempt to put in pants,” on a wristwatch package.)

photo by d sharon pruitt

Is it crazy to think that parents can handle this? They can cut food smaller. They can skip small hard candies until a child’s old enough. Goodness, they’re asked to worry about a gazillion other things, like making sure a baby sleeps just right to avoid sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS) or preventing kids from eating garbage or tar or dog poop or whatever other crazy things they find. Doesn’t that make them capable enough to know small children can’t handle objects the exact size and shape of their throat?

All of that being said, I’m not a mom. I don’t know how I’d feel if I had a mini superhuman right here. Maybe I’d want some Gobstopper package to remind me that the candy isn’t suitable for children still nursing.

What are your thoughts? Moms and dads, I’d especially like to hear from you.