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Healthy Food Tip #2: The Perils of Partially Hydrogenated Oils & Other Bad Food Ingredients

You may have heard about the health issues caused by a food ingredient called partially hydrogenated oil (PHO). It is found in many, many foods in your supermarket and in restaurants. Although I knew it was unhealthy, I never really knew why until I did some research for this post.

In a nutshell, PHO’s are created when hydrogen bubbles (yes, hydrogen) are passed through oil that has been heated. This removes the essential fatty acids that do a lot of good for your body, and chemically alters the oil so it becomes a trans fat, also called a saturated fat (bad, bad stuff). McDonalds is one of the better-known trans fat cases because of all the media attention.

So why are PHO’s so bad? They cause cancer, diabetes, heart disease, multiple sclerosis and allergies that can cause arthritis. It also disables your body from properly absorbing good essential fatty acids (necessary to sustain healthy life) found largely in polyunsaturated oils. Instead of being absorbed and providing your body with what it needs to function properly, the essential fatty acids are eventually stored as fat cells, causing you to gain weight.

I’m not a scientist (although I’ve been told I look like Dr. Egon Spengler from the Ghostbusters — sans the hair), so I won’t pretend to be. The purpose of this post is to inform you of the ill effects of this ingredient (as well as some others). I’ve included some informative links below for those of you who are interested in a more detailed explanation of PHO’s.

But I will tell you this. Companies use this stuff because it’s a really cheap way to give things like cake, cookies, pancakes, cereal and bread a rich buttery taste WITHOUT adding butter (which is more costly). It also extends the shelf life of the product so it can sit there for months (or years) instead of a few weeks. I guess the almighty dollar is more important than the health of our children.

Now that there’s more awareness, some corporations have changed the name of these trans fatty oils to mono-diglycerides. Don’t be fooled, it’s the same thing. Shame on every company that is trying to trick us. I wonder if the owners and employees feed this crap to their families. Or do they take their profits and shop at Whole Foods?

Hey Kellogg’s, charge me an extra dollar and take that crap out of your Pop Tarts — and your cereals. It’s in Froot Loops, Corn Pops and lots of other cereals I can’t think of right now (check the labels).

My question is this: who is going to step up, take responsibility and get rid of this stuff in our food? Will it be a major corporation that will set the precedent, the government, or nobody?

If that’s not enough to keep you up at night, here are a few more bad food ingredients:

Sodium Nitrite: found in bacon, hot dogs and other processed meats kids and parents like to eat. Why is it bad? It causes colon cancer and pancreatic cancer. It has been proven to cause leukemia and brain tumors in children! We eat bacon at least once a week!! At least we used to. I’ll have to check Whole Foods for organic bacon.

Naturalnews.com also lists: MSG, refined white flower, refined white sugar, aspartame, saccharin, artificial colors, chemical preservatives, color fixer chemicals and homogenized dairy fats. Visit their link, or use Google to find out more.

Special thanks to the following links which provided me with this useful information. Pleases visit them for more details:
– Ban Trans Fats
– What’s Wrong with Partially Hydrogenated Oils?
– The latest U.S. health safety distraction ploy: Blame China!
– Recovery Medicine

Related posts:
Healthy Food Tip #1: Decoding PLU Codes For Better Health

And remember, you are not alone…

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Equal Rights for Kids: DON’T HIT!

In a previous post, Tired of Being Exhausted, I touched upon the topic of hitting children (see excerpt to follow). In an effort to advocate for children’s rights, I felt this topic deserved a post of its own.

“If you made a mistake at work, what would you do if you were reprimanded with a spanking by your boss? If he or she took you into their office, bent you over their lap, and spanked the crap out of you? Yes, the sicko’s are probably drooling over this thought — but for the purposes of this blog please disregard any thoughts of your boss being incredibly hot, or any desire some of you might have to be spanked.

Would this be acceptable behavior? Or would you have your boss arrested for assault?”

The answer seems pretty clear. So why would anyone think it’s OK for parents to hit their kids? What makes it acceptable to hit a child? I don’t understand, nor do I see any advantages to hitting when there are plenty of other things you can do to teach a child a lesson — other than their taking away their dignity, and yours.

We can reason with them, give them a time out, take away TV, a favorite toy, etc.

Reasoning seems to be the most productive avenue to take (both for the short and long term). It teaches without threatening. But it doesn’t always work, and kids need to know there are consequences if they continue to act out.

But hitting? What does that accomplish, other than stopping the unwanted behavior? Does it address the root of the problem? The child’s frustration, disappointment, fatigue or whatever it might be?

Kids are going to make mistakes. Sometimes they’ll do something bad intentionally, sometimes because they just don’t know any better. But raising children to live in fear of violence & punishment simply creates adults who live in fear. Is that the kind of adult you want to create? One that never fulfills their potential because they’re too afraid of making a mistake and getting punished?

When a child is hit, what have they learned? To refrain from doing something because they’ll be hurt by mom or dad if they do. Wouldn’t you prefer your kids stop doing something because you’ve TAUGHT THEM that it’s wrong? Isn’t it better to help them attain a solid moral base instead of striking them like an animal?

In the effort to stop a behavior for the short term, what long-term damage is being done?

The Hit List

Hitting = violence
Hitting = instilling fear instead of understanding and love
Hitting = creation of resentment
Hitting = disrespecting
Hitting = hurting
Hitting = teaching children to cope through violence, instead of compromise and communication
Hitting = part of a power struggle, it’s all about control
Hitting ≠ teaching (at least not in a positive way)
Hitting ≠ tough love; it is an easy way out for a parent
Hitting ≠ caring

In this battle for control, the child is seeking it and the parent is looking to maintain it. It’s a fine line that is difficult to walk. But at the end of the day how we treat our children is instrumental in who they become as adults. Do you want to create an adult that is successful and strong… or subservient?

The bottom line is that hitting children is wrong. Period.

And remember, you are not alone…

Related links:
– Equal Rights for Kids: Don’t Hit, Part 2
– Stop Yelling Daddy!
– Equal Rights for Kids, Part 1: Let Your Kids Decide

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Stop Yelling Daddy!

No matter how hard I try, no matter how mindful I attempt to be — I sometimes find myself yelling at one or both of my kids. It never lasts very long and it’s always after an extended amount of crying, screaming, food throwing or obsessive-compulsive behavior that rivals Mr. Monk’s (from the USA TV show).

It seems that I can not get through a weekend without yelling about something. And this weekend was no exception.

It was our 11-year anniversary. The babysitter cancelled on us, so instead of a romantic adult dinner at a nice Italian restaurant, we settled for a family outing at Quaker Steak & Lube. As the name suggests, this is not your ordinary “anniversary dinner.” At least not for us.

Max, 4, began a tirade of wanting more macaroni and cheese WAY before he was done eating what he had in front of him. Relentless, he continued to repeat his desire for more. I tried many ways of reasoning with him to stop. Since his brother Joss, almost 2, was flinging his mac & cheese off his plate, I deftly gave some to Max who ate it and stopped complaining. OK, that wasn’t so hard.

Now Joss starts screaming. Not because I gave his brother some of his food, but because he’s done. He’s ready to go. NOW. My wife has barely eaten & my beer is far from finished. We do our best to eat what we can. I realize this situation is a great way to help people lose weight. Under this type of stress, one simply does not have an appetite!

On the way to the car…

Everything has calmed down. I’ve managed to hold it together until I try to put Joss in the car. He grabs onto the metal rods holding up the passenger side headrest. He clutches them with the will and the strength of a gorilla who’s really hungry for the very last banana (or the most desirable mate).

Now he’s just trying to tell me (in his 2 year old way), “hey dad, listen, sorry but I’m not ready to get in my car seat yet. Maybe you could give me a minute…” But I’m not hearing him. I just want him to sit in the car seat!

I finally pry his fingers off the headrest and get him in the seat. He’s screaming and fighting me and then he kicks me in the face (not intentional)!

That was it. I saw red. I lost it. I started screaming at the top of my lungs in the middle of the Quaker Steak & Lube parking lot about how he was “being a bad boy. BAD BOY! Stop it! Stop it now!”

Another weekend tainted. Another chance at setting a good example lost. It doesn’t matter (at least not at that moment) that I set hundreds of good examples for my boys every week. This is simply not a habit I am proud of, it’s not who I want to be. My father yelled alot when I was a kid (big surprise there), and now I am teaching my kids the same thing. And I can’t seem to stop.

The whole incident may have lasted 20 seconds, but three days later I am still ashamed & incredibly disappointed with myself. It’s not that my son’s behavior was acceptable. It wasn’t. But he’s not even two.

The problem is that my behavior is unacceptable — at any age.

I’ve given this much thought, because I realize “trying harder” to stay calm is not the answer. It won’t work unless I address the underlying factors that are causing me to be so volatile. Joss’ behavior was only the catalyst.

The real problem is my frustration. I’m tired & overwhelmed. My wife has diabetes and gallbladder problems, and I’m scared of losing her. I miss my boys all day while I’m at work. And although I am very happy to have a good job, it is quite often VERY FRUSTRATING! We’re 800 miles from everyone we know, everyone we can depend on for help. We are alone out here in Wisconsin. Money always seems to be an issue, and there’s a ton of stuff to do in order to maintain our home. And the pizza sucks!

Hey, I know most (if not all) parents have this same amount of stress. I’m not saying my case is special. But I’m having trouble finding a solution.

If anybody has any suggestions, please feel free to share them.

And remember, you are not alone…

Related posts:
Stop Yelling Daddy! (Part 2)

How to Retrain the Reactive Brain, Part 1

How to Retrain the Reactive Brain, Part 2

An Interview with Mark Brady: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3

Equal Rights for Kids. Part 2: Don’t Hit!

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Happy Mother’s Day

True to form, I seem to be a little late for everything in life. But I did want to take a moment to thank my wife for being such a wonderful mother & best friend. Through all the struggles, all the stress and all the good times, you have been a great gift from the Universe!

Here’s a top 10 list of why I love, and like, my wife so much:

10. She’s hot
9. She puts up with me, Mr. Crabby
8. She always does her best
7. She takes fantastic care of our kids (and me too!)
6. She always supports & believes in me
5. She looks good in a pair of jeans (remember, she’s hot)
4. She’s smart, so I’m a little smart by default
3. She’s a massage therapist, and she’s really good
2. She loves me (sometimes I wonder why)
1. She saved my life

I love you honey!

And remember, you are not alone…

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Odd Things About Wisconsin

Living in New York my entire life, I grew up believing that the way I referred to things was pretty much the same as how most people referred to things.

Boy was I wrong.

For example, I call a car a car. In Wisconsin, it’s a vehicle. And it’s mostly women that call it that. Every syllable is clearly enunciated, too — making the word resemble the sound made by a cat coughing up a hairball. Why would you want to take the extra time to call something a veh-ic-le, when you can just say “car.” Think of all the time you save sticking with the one syllable here.

I grew up calling Italian bread, Italian bread. In Wisconsin, it’s called a loaf! What the hell is that about? Don’t all breads start out as a “loaf” before you slice them up and make sandwiches and french toast with them? To me, a loaf is someone who doesn’t like to do stuff. Kind of like a bum, or a person with no ambition. But hey, what do I know?

Now, let’s talk about the thing that everybody has on top of their house. I call it a roof. Again, I find an alarming difference, this time in the pronunciation of what appears to be a simple word. In NY, we say roof, like “roooof.” Here in the frozen tundra that is Wisconsin, they say it more like “ruff.” What the heck is a ruff? Sounds like someone’s dog is barking if you ask me (which nobody did by the way).

This brings me to the biggest, worst and most ugly difference of all.

Pizza.

Now here’s the weird thing. In Wisconsin, they say pizza just like I did in New York. But what they call pizza tastes more like the cardboard box that NY pizza comes in! It smells familiar, like cheese and sauce and bread (or a loaf). But that is where the similarity ends.

Why-o-why does the pizza have to suck so bad out here?

There are varieties like pizza with potatoes and veggies on it. Just what America needs. Pizza with an extra starch. We’re not fat enough. Meat-lovers pizza has bacon, sausage, beef, ham and pepperoni. And it’s guaranteed to clog your arteries! And then there’s the mid western classic — Cheeseburger Pizza. Now there’s an image that makes me want to yack! But I’m afraid to because somebody might want to make “Cheeseburger & Yack” pizza!

At least a loaf still tastes like bread, even though they call it the wrong thing. But the pizza? Somebody needs to hold a seminar or something to help them get it right. Big money making opportunity for you pizza makers in NY.

My final quibble concerns the potato. Where I’m from, a potato is part of a meal. A side accessory so to speak – the starch part (remember, it’s not a vegetable). It is usually served with a topping (like butter or sour cream), next to a piece of MEAT and a healthy portion of VEGETABLES (the darker the color, the more healthy).

But here in Wisconsin, the dairy state, a potato is a meal in and of itself.  Top it with enough crap and people go crazy like it’s a four-course dinner! Here, they just lump everything into it – cheese, meat, veggies, a ground up tire from their ve-hi-cle… WHATEVER THEY CAN FIND! And they call it a meal.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Wisconsin. Especially the days when I don’t have to leave the house. But this stuff just bothers me.

And remember, you are not alone…

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Equal Rights for Kids: Let Your Kids Decide

The following excerpt is from the book Stories of the Spirit, by Jack Kornfield & Christina Feldman.

A family went out to a restaurant for dinner. When the waitress arrived, the parents gave their orders. Immediately, their five-year-old daughter piped up with her own: “I’ll have a hot dog, French fries an a Coke.”

“Oh no you won’t,” interjected the dad, and turning to the waitress he said, “She’ll have meatloaf, mashed potatoes, milk.” Looking at the child with a smile, the waitress said, “So, hon, what do you want on that hot dog?”

When she left, the family sat stunned and silent. A few moments later the little girl, eyes shining, said, “She thinks I’m real.”
– – – –
I find this story incredibly powerful. It got me wondering: am I treating my boys in a way that is beneficial to them — both for the short term AND the long term? Do I respect their opinions, and foster their independence and decision-making ability? Or am I TELLING them what’s best for them?

Am I helping them build self worth, or am I deconstructing it?

Overall, I think I’m doing a pretty good job of building their sense of self worth. Most of the time.

Sometimes I falter and slip into “telling mode.” This usually happens when I hit the dreaded wall of exhaustion (which is always lurking nearby these days). When I feel completely burnt out, I just want them to stop and listen. I’m not really hearing them. This always feels wrong — and I always regret it.

Like the dad in the story, there are times when I try to “help” my boys because it appears beneficial to them, at least in the short-term. But what about the long term? When something seems so important NOW, I don’t always consider the long-term benefit, or the potential damage I might be causing — damage that might completely outweigh any short-term benefit.

(Taking a look at the long term, or long view, is something I wrote about in The Magic Quarter — Creating your own reality. It’s a topic I wish I’d thought more about when I was younger.)

I have relatives and friends who believe kids should be told what to do and when to do it. There’s no explanation needed, because they’re kids. These people seem to think that because a child has only existed on this earth for a short time, somehow this invalidates their right to have an opinion.

I beg to differ.

My kids were picking their own breakfasts when they were 6 months old! Healthy choices of course. I’d give them two options and they’d point (and occasionally grunt) towards what they preferred. I believe letting my kids make decisions will help them become adults that are able to fulfill their potential. They’re learning to trust themselves, and to be decisive.

Otherwise, what happens? What kind of adults are created if a child is never given a choice? If they grow up feeling like they have no voice and their opinion doesn’t count?

I’m not saying to let our kids run rampant, or control the household (more than they already do). Far from it. They need rules and boundaries. They need guidance. But their opinion counts and we need to let them know that by respecting them. It’s a matter of finding a balance, which is an ongoing challenge.

And remember, you are not alone…

Related links:
Equal Rights for Kids. Part 2: Don’t Hit!

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Happy Birthday Max!

Happy Birthday to Max! He turned 4 today!

You know, I am more tired than I have ever been in my entire life. But I wouldn’t trade being his dad for the world. He’s my big pal, the Peter Venkman to my Egon Spengler. He’s my oldest son and I’m very proud of him…

 

Now this little stinker is Joss. The Ray Stanz to my Egon, my little pal. He’s priceless (and quite feisty). He’s my youngest, and I’m so proud of him too…

Thank you boys for being my sons!

So yes, dad’s exhuasted. I feel like an old clunker. How about the rest of you dads? But these boys deserve the best, so I do my best. I often fall short, sometimes way short, but they love me anyway.

I am so grateful.

Remember, you are not alone.

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Healthy Food Tip #1: Decoding PLU Codes for Better Health

Last week I was listening to Wisconsin Public Radio. There’s a show I enjoy on my drive home called: At Issue with Ben Merens. The featured guest was a man named Jeff Cox, former editor of Organic Gardening magazine. 

I learned some very interesting information about the PLU Codes of produce that I’d like to share. PLU Codes are usually located on the tiny stickers appearing on fruits and veggies. And they hold a wealth of information that is in direct relation to the quality of the food and your health.

There are three types of codes:

1) Five digit codes beginning with the #9 mean the item is organic. No pesticides or chemicals are used in the growing of the product. This is our least toxic option.

2) If the code begins with a #8, that means the product has been genetically modified. This is bad and should be avoided.

3) Any four digit code means that the produce has been grown the traditional, standard way. Pesticides and chemicals are used to grow them. But they’re not genetically modified.

I never had a clue about the PLU (no pun intended), but this info seems very useful in providing our families with healthier foods.

One of the callers, a college student, was concerned about eating healthy. But she was on super-tight budget, so she wanted to know the top 5 foods to buy if she were going to go organic in a small way.

Jeff Cox mentioned the following foods, stating that if we could all eat these five organically grown foods, instead of their non-organic counterparts, we would all be “way ahead of the game.” They are (in no particular order):

1) Beef
2) Milk (GMO Hormones, also known as the Artificial Growth Hormone, increases milk production by 10%. But it is very bad for the cows who are treated with it. Guess what? It’s not good for us either.)
3) Strawberries
4) Apples
5) Bell Peppers

In these times of economic struggle, where the price of gas is quickly approaching $4 per gallon, it might be tempting to overlook the benefits of making organic choices part of our lives. Spending more doesn’t seem feasible. But the thought of making very few, specific changes doesn’t seem so bad. And the thought of providing healthier food for my wife and kids? Priceless.

I hope this helps!

And remember, you are not alone… 

Related posts:
Healthy Food Tip #2: The Perils of Partially Hydrogenated Oils and Other Bad Food Ingredients

Links to more information:
Wikipedia’s PLU Page

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Huggies Children’s Products: Shape Matters, Dads Don’t

In the May issue of Parenting Magazine, I found yet another ad from a major children’s company that excludes dads. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, especially since it’s an ad inside a magazine who’s cover tagline is “What Matters to Moms.”

The ad, which appears on page 54, is for an “easy-grip, no-slip bottle*” for bath time hair and body wash. You may be wondering what that little asterisk is for after the word bottle. Well, at the bottom of the ad Huggies tells you:

 “*Picked by moms for better no-slip grip.”

I’d like to meet the Huggies executive who signed off on this one. I’m just wondering what type of research the company did before deciding to make this claim. Did they get a bunch of moms together and ask them what they liked best?

Did they bother to ask these moms who gives the children most of their baths? Because I give both my boys ALL of their baths. Yes, I am Bath-man! Exclusive bath giver to my children (and myself), no matter how dirty or stinky! It gives me a little extra time with the kids, and it gives my wife a break because she works very hard to take care of us.

It’s funny, because every dad I know tells me the same thing. They are the ones giving the baths.

Here was a chance for Huggies to get it right. To give a nod to all the dads of the world who sacrifice time with their kids to go to work and earn money so their family can survive.

See, Mr. Huggies executive, the thing is that us dads also use this money to buy children’s products. Like bath soap for instance. I for one can say I won’t be buying yours.

And remember, you are not alone…

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Evel Knievel and the Hairy Lady

When I was a boy, one of my favorite toys in the whole world was my Evel Knievel Stunt Cycle. Evel and his trusty motorcycle withstood any and all of the death-defying stunts I could dream up. Somehow he always managed to “walk away” in one piece (although sometimes he and the bike suffered some pretty deep scratches and dings). No matter how bad the crash or how far Evel flew off his bike, they both remained intact.

Until the taxi incident.

The year was approximately 1978. And it is a day I will never forget. I remember it as clear as a sunny Wisconsin afternoon (which is pretty rare by the way).

I was on my friend’s porch — at least 20 steps up, on the second floor of his two-story house. It turns out this porch would hold another traumatic experience for me (but more on that later).

As I revved up Evel’s motor with the hand crank (those who had one will remember the super-cool sound, and the painful hand blisters that ensued), my excitement grew. Once I got him to top speed, I let him rip! He went down the stairs like a madman — flipping, flopping and popping wheelies! I was so excited as he zoomed towards the, uh, street?

He made it to the center of the road before puttering to a stop. He plopped onto his side, the bikes rear wheel still turning. Then, I heard a sound…

A dirty yellow taxicab was barreling towards him! The bastard didn’t even slow down. Nor did he take evasive action. I would swear he took aim! It appeared to be an act of pure aggression on a helpless toy that he knew was more successful and more popular than he’d ever be.

And then he ran over Evel Knievel — squashing him and his stunt cycle like a pancake.

Needless to say I was quite upset.

The guy didn’t even stop. He just left my toy in pieces. He was a rude man, and I bet he smelled bad.

Soon after, my mother bought me a new Evel Knievel. But this one was the blue chopper version (they had stopped making the original). It just wasn’t the same. He popped a lot more wheelies, but I could tell his heart wasn’t in it. And neither was mine.

In case you were wondering, my original Evel did survive the taxi incident. I mean, he WAS made of rubber! Too bad the bike was not. The tire tracks across his nylon jumpsuit were a constant reminder of the tragedy.

Conclusion: The Hairy Lady

One day, on that very same porch, I choked on a piece of gum. As it lodged in my throat, my friend (who’s name and face I can’t remember — sorry dude) went and got his mom.

She came out in a tank top (I think it was red) and that’s when my fear of choking to death was replaced by an even greater terror.

Hair, and lots of it! Under her arms, in between her breasts. I had never seen anything like it! Nor have I since, thank God.

Although my airway was blocked, I couldn’t help but stare at my friend’s hairy mom. In between her boobs was both facinating and repulsive at the same time. And I’m not talking a few, “I need to tweeze my eyebrows” strands, I’m talking a big, bushy hairball. Yuck.

I eventually swallowed the gum. But the memory of that hair remains with me.

Remember, you are not alone…