Merck: Using Moms and Madagascar to Market to Kids

Merck, the pharmaceutical conglomerate, is getting some pretty bad press this week for releasing a children’s version of Claritin with a Madagascar 3 marketing campaign integrated in its packaging.  And they’re using mommy bloggers to shill it.

Here is the offending packaging:

Merck Packaging

Now to me, that looks like a pretty good time if you’re a three year old.  I mean, of course it does.  That’s the whole point of marketing, isn’t it? Stickers!  Grapes!  Animals!

Don’t take my word for it, though.  I asked three year old Mary Tyler Son to weigh in — my kitchen table marketing sample of one.  Sure enough, he liked it.  He liked it enough to exclaim, “Madagascar!  I want some!”  I’m not joking. This is a kid who has not seen Madagascar, sitting with his Mom, me, who has not seen Madagascar.

Marketing works, folks.

Beside the fact that the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) has rules established against marketing vitamins to children directly, there are no such rules applying to over-the-counter (OTC) drugs.  Yet.  A complaint was filed with the FTC on Wednesday by the Public Health Advocacy Institute that attempts to duplicate the rules for vitamins to OTC drugs.  The complaint is backed by ten leading public health and media advocacy groups.

A second complaint involves the Merck social media campaign to market the meds.  This is where the mommy bloggers come in — oh, I’m sorry, the “Children’s Claritin Mom Crew.”  Each member of the Mom Crew was gifted the items below to host a Claritin Madagascar viewing party.

Mom Crew Package

Now I hate to get all self-righteous here, but I’m gonna.  Seriously, mommy bloggers?  I get that blogging is a money making venture for a lot of us moms out there.  I don’t play for that particular team, but shill away if that is what floats your boat and helps provide for your family.  I get it.  I do.  But please, have a line in the blogging sand.  Have a thought in your head that tells you that when Big Pharma comes knocking, you best question them.

Read this.

I mean, honestly, I rest my case.  A kid’s party revolving around medicine? Does no adult in the room see the problem with that?  Claritin is medicine. Not candy.  Not fun and games.  Not popcorn party time.  Medicine.

These are the folks that give mommy bloggers a bad name.  Some of us will sell our soul for a free DVD.  Ugh.  And aside from the superiority complex I am obviously afflicted with, there are the ramifications for kids.  WOW! Allergy medicine is fun.  I wish I had allergies.  Now that may sound silly, or like an overreaction, but already from three year old Mary Tyler Son, I see that for him, medicine can be an enticing yummy treat.

When he has a fever, he gets dye-free acetaminophen and ibuprofin.  I generally go generic with these, so the only exciting thing on the packaging are pictures of grapes or cherries, but he likes the flavor.  He recently had a bout of Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease, so was on a heavy rotation of both for a few days until the fever died down.  Weeks later, he is still asking for medicine at bed time.  Yum!  Last night at dinner he told me he had a fever, “I think I need some medicine.”

Kids don’t need Madascar characters to encourage them to take meds.  Kids also don’t need moms throwing them parties that revolve around medicine. And us moms?  We don’t need Big Pharma using moms who live down the street from us to encourage our kids to use Claritin.  Creepy.

Merck’s official line is that their marketing is geared towards the adults purchasing on behalf of children.  And I have no doubt that the Children’s Claritin Mom Crew will tow the company line and tell you about what a difficult time they have getting their allergy ridden kids to take their meds.  Slap a licensed character on Claritin and PRESTO, problem solved.

I reject that argument with the strength and fury of a million Cancer Moms standing behind me.  Suck it up, Mom Crew.  If you can’t get your kids to take their allergy meds, it’s your job to figure it out.  If I can put on gloves to mix toxic chemotherapy in ICE CREAM to make it more palatable to my terminally ill daughter, you can find a strategy to give your child allergy medicine that doesn’t have a licensed character on it.

So I’ve already established that I can be self-righteous.  May as well get indignant here too, right?  Embrace my flaws.  Hell, I got nothing to lose.

Big Pharma has produced one pediatric oncology drug in twenty years.  One. ONE.  Most pharma companies don’t invest in research for children’s ailments, including cancer, because the numbers simply aren’t there.  There is no profit in sick kids as there are simply not enough of them.  But there is profit in over the counter drugs, and if slapping licensed cartoon characters on medicine can increase that profit, by all means, they will.

Will the kids start confusing medicine for sweet treats?  Meh, Merck will leave that for the Mom Crew to figure out.  And with all those free product samples and DVDs, the mommy bloggers are happy to accommodate them. Pretty cheap freaking price to pay for marketing, I’d say.

I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t sell my kid’s well being for some DVDs and product samples to make more of a profit for Merck.  My kid deserves better than that.  And so does yours.

Rant over.

Correction:  I had originally stated that only one cancer drug specific to children had been developed in thirty years.  It is twenty years.  I apologize for the mistake.

40 is the new 80

When my husband turned forty, I had a t-shirt made for him with this slogan.  I thought I was so clever, so cute. 

Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  Jokes on me now. 

One day recently I woke up and it had happened.  I had achieved middle adulthood.  This, my friends, is how I knew it had happened.  Definitively.

  1. A nurse came to my home to collect samples of urine and blood for life insurance rates;
  2. I have dish gloves that coordinate with my kitchen decor;
  3. I can quote the cost of a gallon of milk, a pound of beef, and a dozen eggs — organic and non-organic, yo;
  4. All the younguns in the office wear maxi dresses and it really annoys me that they don’t understand this simply isn’t done;
  5. My husband offered to sit with the kid so I could go get a pedicure and I opted for a nap instead;
  6. I have three separate wardrobes in my closet — skinny (that is literally dusty), fat, and knit;
  7. I splurge on sheets rather than shoes;
  8. I have opinions about Tupperware and am happy to share and discuss;
  9. I watch Real World Schaumburg just to keep up with what the kids are doing these days;
  10. I remind my readers about the importance of moisturizing their necks more than is necessary or polite;
  11. My husband got socks and no-wrinkle shirts for Father’s Day.

See?  It’s happened.  Middle adulthood.  Sigh.

Winning the Daddy Lottery

Daddy Mountain
Photo courtesy of Anne Geissinger

When each of my two kids were born, moments after they were placed in my arms, I said to them, “Congratulations, child, you won the Daddy Lottery!” Mary Tyler Dad doesn’t especially like this, but truer words have never been spoken.

On Father’s Day I think about what it means to be a good dad and how lucky me and my kids are.  Gratefully, it’s not nearly as loaded for me as Mother’s Day, nor is it for Mary Tyler Dad.  He doesn’t get tripped up about holidays or significant dates like I do.  He’s calm like that.  But it’s still hard to celebrate Father’s Day when one of your children is not with you.

I knew shortly after I met him that he was different.  We had been out on a few dates, but it wasn’t until our third or fourth date when he talked about a hard time someone close to him had gone through that I stood at attention.  Ding, ding, ding!  The compassion, generosity, and concern he expressed made me take a second look.  He was always handsome, but his eyes became softer after that talk, his hands sturdier, his shoulders broader — this one, I knew, was a keeper.

I was the first to know and understand that we would be husband and wife.  It took Mary Tyler Dad a few years to catch up to me.  I snared him with my wily ways after five years of dating.  He, though, was the first to know and understand that we would be parents together.  I kept putting it off and putting it off and putting it off.   We were in our mid-thirties, both invested in our careers, and had a great life together.  He never pressured me, just gently and persistently brought it into our conversation.  Repeatedly.  Kind of like he’s doing right now with me procrastinating making a dentist appointment.

As I type these words, I am looking out the window, watching him walk up the street with Mary Tyler Son, returning from a morning trip to the park.  Mary Tyler Dad puts in the time.  When he’s tired, he puts in the time.  He understands more than most how fleeting it is.  When he’s busy, he puts in the time.  When he’s got bills to pay and chores to do and projects to manage he puts in the time.  I love that about him.

Donna Running to Daddy
Photo courtesy of Joel Wanek

From day one, bringing Donna home from the hospital for the first time, he proved himself to be the prince among men I knew him to be.  While I nursed both kids through their first year, Mary Tyler Dad would sleepily wake to change their diapers before handing them off to me in the dark for the one thing he could not provide our kids — mother’s milk.

He does laundry and dishes and sews Halloween costumes.  Sews Halloween costumes, people.  He watches too much basketball in June, but that is forgiven as he is not a fan of baseball, hockey, or football.  He sings sweet songs to Mary Tyler Son, remembering all the correct lyrics, rather than the made up ones I cobble together.  He doesn’t flinch when I teach the little one the words to bad pop songs and we have kitchen dance parties to LMFAO. He brings our boy to the sitter on the days I work so I can get in early or do my hair.

Last week Mary Tyler Dad had a business trip to St. Louis for a few nights. He came home and said that sitting all alone in the hotel suite made him sad about how empty his life would be without us.   That broke my heart and filled it to brimming all at the same time.

He is the best father I can imagine for my children.  It is criminal that his daughter was taken from him.  Criminal.  Our world needs clones of Mary Tyler Dad — millions of him putting in the time, sharing their wit and love and generosity and parenting and partnering.  What a world that would be.

Mexico Joy
Photo courtesy of MTM

Happy Father’s Day, Mary Tyler Dad!  I love you more than Coca Cola, cheeseburgers, and chocolate — combined.  xox.