Child Growth Charts—Just Another Means of Making Parents Feel Like Doofuses

10/07/2009

It's a universal law of siblings that if one likes a particular food, the other detests it. My three-year-olds are no exception.


This makes preparing any meal for them a complex mathematical equation, and I'm no math genius. Just ask my friends. Ever since I lost my tip-calculator cheat-sheet, I'm a wreck when the restaurant check comes.


But there I stand in the kitchen each night at dinner time. Head on the fridge. Calculating.


"Now, let's see. If I give them carrots, Punk will eat them but not T-Rex. Better throw in corn or T-Rex won't get a vegetable. Wait. Last time he didn't eat his corn. Crud. Well, they both like hot dogs. If I put sauerkraut on there, that would count as a vegetable, right? What am I thinking? No WAY either of them would eat sauerkraut. Plus Punk doesn't like the bun. Or ketchup directly on the wiener. Has to be on the side…."


It goes on like this until I finally hit a combo that will render each kid roughly enough food. Then I act fast, before I forget it.


But if one of them throws off my equation—like Punk did last night when he sent back his chicken and strawberries, yes, strawberries!—it sends me into a tizzy.


I'm all: Oh no, he didn't get his protein, or his fruit, or his vegetable. He's going to be malnourished. He's going to get rickets or something. Maybe scurvy. Or worse, pellagra. Like that case I read about in Deadly Medical Mysteries, where orphans down South went crazy and spasmodic from lack of niacin.

 
Oh Lord, has Punk got a niacin deficiency? He’s losing more baby fat every day. Aside from the old-man potbelly, he's getting downright skeletal. Any minute Child Services is going to haul me off for starving my child.


But the real test comes in the pediatrician's office, when they drag out those height/weight charts with all the percentiles showing how your kid relates to the norm. You know the ones with the tiny sets of numbers down both sides and a bunch of squiggly lines in between.


One glance, and I get flashbacks to the part of high school geometry where they lost me. And then the pediatrician jabs her finger somewhere in the jumble and declares, "Your kid is right THERE."


I'm sorry, where?


All these charts do is confuse the pants off most parents, who, according to a recent study, are apparently as math-challenged as I am. Only a third of parents in the study could accurately pinpoint their kid's age, weight, and percentile on the charts.

 
And there's another big problem. The charts fuel what I call parental inadequacy and slacker-phobia syndrome (PISS)—a constant, maddening fear that your poor parenting is causing your child to fall behind.

Extreme sufferers will resort to bribing whoever they can to get their kids into a Cadillac pre-K with Spanish immersion. Otherwise, their kid will surely never graduate junior high.


And these growth charts? These growth charts only perpetuate PISS. Sitting in the pediatrician's office, I tell her, "Look, just give me the quick translation. Are my kids above normal? Below normal? What?"


She won't give me a straight answer.


"Punk is above the 95th percentile for height, 75th to 90th for weight," she says, impassively. "T-Rex is in the 50th percentile for height, 50th to 75th for weight."


"But what does this mean? Is Punk going to be some sort of towering giant? And his weight is way lower. Should I be feeding him loads of cheesy grits or something? Not that he'd eat them."


"And T-Rex? Why is he so much shorter? Is it the asthma treatments? Don't those steroids stunt growth? It's because he doesn't eat his mac 'n cheese or red beans isn't it? Punk always does. I mean it's great that T-Rex likes strawberries, but where's he getting his protein, you know?"


The pediatrician just looks at me.


Stoic.


"The growth charts indicate that both your kids are on a normal growth track relative to their previous readings and the norms for their age group," she parrots.


There's the rub. She just summed up my whole issue with growth charts.


These measures weren't intended to be a PISS-inducing, standardized-test-like gauge of how your kid stacks up. They're meant to guide doctors on whether your kid's individual growth is standard, helping them ensure there isn't a huge discrepancy between height and weight, for example, or a sudden leveling off in height.


So my question is, why even show them to parents? Just tell parents what they need to know: that their kid is or is not growing normally. Done.


Parents already suffer enough neuroses about their children's development. And now we have Web sites out there exploiting the growth-chart paranoia; one site, which I won't name, uses the measures to peddle human growth hormone.


Kid too short? Buy our product.


Blagh.


I, for one, am going to forget I ever heard of these wretched charts. Just doing my daily number crunching on which kid will eat what is math enough for me.


Bridget Murray Law, aka cyberchondriac, is a writer, health site freak, green-challenged (but trying), over-cluttered-and-attempting-to-purge mother of toddler twin boys. She is nuts about rare shrubs but lives in the city.

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