If crime doesn’t pay, then honesty should be rewarded!

I am too honest. I really am. I’m the kind of person who corrects the cashier at Safeway when she charges me for cheap, ordinary Gala apples when in fact I’ve purchased exceedingly expensive Jazz apples.

I’ve always been this way. I can’t keep things I find on the sidewalk. I never cheated on a test in my life. And I actually feel compelled to return that extra nickel when the young man at Dunkin Donuts makes the wrong change from my $20. (Well, in my register-ringing teens, our pay got docked for every penny we fell short.)

C'mon TJ's. Give me a break.

But today I feel genuinely ripped off. And it’s all because of my insane honesty. I went to Trader Joe’s. (Yes, I’m obsessed about shopping there. I go there at least 5 times a week. But that’s another issue we can contemplate in the future.) Much to my delight, I remembered to bring in my reusable grocery bags. I normally end up running back to the car to retrieve them just as I’m entering the check-out lane.

As you probably know, Trader Joe’s offers a kind of incentive program for bringing in your own bags. Every time you use your own, you get to fill out a ticket for a chance to win a $25 gift certificate. I’ve been entering this weekly lottery for over a year. But much to my chagrin, I have never won. This seems odd to me. For someone who enters as often as I do, I was fairly certain that I would have been victorious by now. And for some reason, I really want to win this. It has taken me a great deal of energy and effort to consistently remember to bring in those dumb canvas bags, and now I want to be rewarded for it.

When they first started the program, they always gave me a ticket as I checked out. But, over time, they have become a bit chintzy with the tickets. I sometimes go weeks without being given one. I know that I could ask for one. But I’m kind of embarrassed about it. I don’t want to seem too needy or competitive. So I generally smile a little less brightly and just head out to the car disappointedly with my cadre of environmentally protective reusable bags.

But today, the gentleman ringing me up actually remembered to give me a ticket to fill out for the auction. My face lit up. I smiled and murmured some hopeful remark about it perhaps finally being my time for the big win. He affirmed my wishful philosophy by reminding me that somebody has to win. Why couldn’t it be me?

I bagged my groceries as he continued to ring up the items in my cart. That’s when I saw it. There was a second blank ticket just barely visible underneath a stack of brown paper bags. “OMG,” I thought. “I could fill that out too and then I’d for sure end up winning.” I unobtrusively palmed the extra ticket and secretly slid it over to me. When the cashier was distracted, I picked it up. (I had already dropped the first one in the little tin at the front door.)

We talked cheerfully and he helped me bag the remainder of my groceries. “Just fill it out and drop it in the tin,” I said to myself. But I couldn’t do it. What if I did actually win and it was under this kind of false pretense? How could I live with myself?

After I was bagged and payed for, I held up the bonus ticket and announced, “Hey, here’s an extra one. I just found it lying up here.” “Thanks,” he said as he collected the still blank ticket. And that was it. He didn’t thank me for my honesty. He didn’t say, “Listen, just go ahead and fill this one in too. It’ll give you better odds for winning this week.” Nothing like that. He just thanked me and stuck the ticket in the register.

I am now certain that that ticket was the winning ticket. I deserved that ticket. I bet I enter this drawing more often than anyone else in the valley. How come I never win? That’s just weird. I’m starting to think it’s all a ruse. Maybe they don’t actually pick a winner every week. Maybe they do it like once every four months or something. Whatever they’re doing, they are pissing me off and I’m one of their best customers.

If Trader Joe’s is going to reward people for protecting the environment, you’d think they’d also want to positively reenforce the kind of honesty I displayed this morning. I mean, being green is one thing. But without good, old-fashioned honesty, this planet is seriously doomed.

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Big fat babies are NOT cute!!!

If you weren’t shocked by this week’s announcement from the Archives of Pediatrics and Adolescent Medicine about one-fifth of American 4-year-olds being obese, I’m not sure what it would take to freak you out. How about the fact that obese kids are developing type 2 diabetes, fatty liver disease and musculoskeletal problems (their tiny bodies can’t handle all that weight)?

I’m not a scientist. I’m not a doctor. But I can add. And by putting two and two together, I’ve come up with a plausible hypothesis as to why 1 in 5 four-year-olds in this country are obese.

Dr. Tom Robinson, from the Center for Healthy Weight at Stanford University School of Medicine, commented in a CNN interview, “It’s a very bad sign if we see obesity at a young age. When we see children obese at age 4, we’re likely to see complications – high blood pressure, abnormal lipids – which can lead to heart disease and stroke…”

Take this research and add another new study by Elsie Taveras at Harvard Medical School that shows that fat babies are at an increased risk of becoming obese toddlers and you can’t help but ask yourself if maybe feeding on demand isn’t such a good idea after all.

I know the story, your baby’s rooting. He’s crying. He’s obviously hungry. Never mind the fact that you fed him 20 minutes ago and your nipples are raw and chafed from these absurdly short feeding intervals. Guess what? Rooting is a natural instinct. It doesn’t indicate hunger. And those tears you interpret as a sign that baby wants more food, they’re probably due to reflux. The fact that your baby stops crying when you feed him is likely because it feels good and temporarily stops the reflux. But wait a few minutes after the feed, and the crying will return. I know you want to feed your baby. It feels right. It feels nurturing. But have you ever thought that maybe you’re overfeeding?

Oh no, not you. You’re certain your pudgy, ballooning babe is healthy and happy. He just has an insatiable appetite. Well, the truth is that research shows that babies who gain a lot of weight quickly in the first 6 months of life, are more likely to become part of that new obesity statistic we cited at the top of this page.

Babies need no more than 20 to 30 ounces of milk (breast or formula) during those early months. If you’re a die-hard “feed-on-demand” proponent, do you know how much milk your infant is actually ingesting in a 24 hour period? And frequency matters also. While it’s unpopular to even suggest regimented feeding periods in most mom circles today, there’s a lot of evidence that supports spreading out feedings by at least two to two and a half hours.

I know, you’ve got to go because the little one’s screaming and it’s time to feed again. So I’ll wrap it up by saying; just think about it. Baby fat may be cute, but it’s also a key indicator of toddler obesity, which leads to a host of other serious health issues. Maybe that whole moderation thing isn’t such a bad idea after all.

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…I’m Only the Messenger!

In April’s edition of “The Atlantic Monthly,” Hanna Rosin raises the question of whether breastfeeding is really the elixir it’s been made out to be, or merely an instrument of torture to suppress women and start them down the road to domestic inequity.

Breastfeeding, she argues, sets up an unequal dynamic in a marriage. And while I realize that this is an unpopular belief, I tend to agree with her. Rosin explains throughout the piece that most of us grew up with the idea of co-parenting being a reasonable, attainable goal. However, the domestic responsibilities, she suggests, begin to shift (incrementally and unconsciously) with the introduction of breastfeeding. According to Rosin’s hypothesis, once a woman becomes the sole parent responsible for her baby’s sustenance, a host of other domestic duties shift onto her side of the ledger. “She alone fed the child,” Rosin’s argument goes, “So she naturally knows better how to comfort the child, so she is the better judge to pick a school for the child and the better nurse when the child is sick, and so on.”

In addition to the disparity in domestic responsibilities, Rosin offers incontrovertible evidence to contradict the commonly held belief that breastfeeding is better than bottle feeding for the health and well-being of the baby. The truth, she concludes, after reviewing hundreds of studies and meta-analysis (reviews of existing studies), is that there is no conclusive benefit to breastfeeding. She sites numerous studies, including a well known 2005 paper in which statisticians compared data on 523 sibling pairs who were fed differently. The results looked at diabetes, asthma, allergies, childhood obesity, mother-child bonding and IQ and found no statistically significant differences. The researchers, (who in my opinion were afraid to face the wrath of breastfeeding advocates), gently concluded, “The long-term effects of breastfeeding have been overstated.”

The other issue into which Rosin insightfully delves, is the premise that breastfeeding passes necessary disease-fighting antibodies from mother to baby. “Even many doctors,” she affirms, “believe that breast milk is full of maternal antibodies that get absorbed into the baby’s bloodstream.” While this is true for most mammals, Rosen asserts that human babies are born with antibodies already in place from the placenta. Breast milk antibodies are not transferred into the baby’s bloodstream at all, but rather pass through to the gastrointestinal tract. The overall benefit, she claims, amounts to one less episode of diarrhea for breastfed babies.

Rosen elucidates that the flaws of most breastfeeding studies is that they fail to account for the multitude of socioeconomic, cultural, and intellectual variables that go along with a woman’s decision to breastfeed. “It is impossible,” writes Rosin, “to separate a mother’s decision to breastfeed – and everything that goes along with it – from the breastfeeding itself.”

Overall, Rosin, who continues to part-time breastfeed her third child, insists that the cultural bias towards breastfeeding that paints the practice as some kind of magic vaccine, is not only misleading, but also serves to entrap women and psychologically damage them by making them feel guilty, anxious and selfish if they can’t, or simply don’t want to, breastfeed.

As a loving mother who was unable to breastfeed her first child, and chose not to even try for her second, I think Rosin’s arguments are astute, thoughtful and right on. I’m not suggesting that it’s wrong to breastfeed or that it isn’t the right choice for many people. But I agree with Rosin that it’s not a choice without costs. “It is a serious time commitment that pretty much guarantees that you will not work in any meaningful way,” concludes Rosin. “When people say that breastfeeding is ‘free,’ I want to hit them with a two-by-four. It’s only free if a woman’s time is worth nothing.”