Regulatory foods and other rants

Some of you swear you don’t have them. ‘No, I go with whatever’ is what I’ve heard until I threw out a few options. Then, of course, real opinions arise about regulatory foods allowed in your household. I’m a gnat’s ass away from giving my dear husband a picture book of the groceries allowed to cross the threshold. I didn’t think I had so many preferences until my husband did the shopping. Then, it turned into a lip curling, nose flaring event as I sifted through the plastic bags (hello, why did I buy a pile of environmentally friendly ones for each car)? Everyday is Earth Day! Roast beef thinly sliced? Uh, I asked for roasted turkey. Generic cat food? We have a Iams/Fancy feast household here (yes, my cats fasted for a week when I tried less expensive brands). Store brand apple and cinnamon cereal, seriously? Arg! I can’t say that I have an allegiance to certain companies, other than the ones that I have tested just because. For instance, I did try every diaper brand in search of the ultimate ‘keeper' when I had my daughter. Pampers won hands down for me.

No, not all items are created the same, but I’ve heard from various people, “Whatever is cheapest, I don’t care.”
To put these people to the test, I’ve asked, “If you sent me to the store to buy body soap, would it be okay if I brought back a twelve pack of Cashmere Bouquet?”
“Oh no!” A parent made a face.
“What if I found it two for one!”
“No, it has to be Ivory or Coast.”
“It’s not the cheapest though.” Aha! So you do care.
Some soaps do feel like a thin layer of modeling clay has been smeared across your arm or leave an odd white dusting, having others believe you work in a flour packing factory. Sure it’s moisturizing.
“Cheese doodles or Cheese puffs?” I asked sitting in the waiting area while my daughter attended dance class.
“Doodles,” someone said.
“Potato chips or potato strips?” I teased.
“Chips.”
“Plain or ridges?” I could go on. “Peanut butter brand?”
“Don’t care.” One mom said.
That started a discussion.
“Chunky or smooth?” I interrupted.
“Crunchy, but not extra crunchy.” Said the mom who didn’t care.
How my husband had the audacity to bring home the store brand peanut butter, I have no idea. Even the squirrels and birds would have hurled pinecones at the window had I embedded that stuff in the crevices to hold their gourmet seeds. Some products are just unacceptable! A writer wrote about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The jelly was extremely important, because it may land you against the fence at the playground. My daughter has snubbed the mixed fruit. It really needs to be grape or strawberry. Raspberry occasionally makes the cut when she’s in the mood. My mother used to pack homemade peanut butter (the gritty kind that separated-icky) with pineapple jelly, really? Sometimes you just can’t come back from that when certain kids get wind of your sandwich contents.
Just some unspoken rules. Kind of like which way you like your toilet paper to unroll. Over or under? Tuck or untucked sheets at the base of the bed? Pillow shams?Why do these things become preferences? Is it financial? Nostalgia? Because it reminds you of you Seinfeld?
Liquid, powder or just the brand? Do you have a system for how you do laundry? Powder, water, then clothes? Or, how my husband did it before clothes were ruined and his duties were revoked-clothes, water, then powder? I switched to liquid for that reason alone and reinstated his chore, but then he was pouring that thing like he was refilling oil in a car. Ahem...
One husband admitted that he can only enter his house with grass fed cows milk and certain hot dogs.
“Oscar Mayer or Hebrew National?” I asked.
“Hebrew National.” He slumped his shoulders and let out a sigh. “You don’t want to see her if I bring home the wrong kind.”
I completely understand. It matters when your husband brings home pharmacy brand storage bags when you specifically asked for freezer bags. Meat with dusting of frost weeks too early is not a good look. Give me the yellow plus blue makes green seal. The zipper types are cringing after that statement.
I thought it was just me. Those creeping maniacal concerns that attack stay at home moms. When I was held hostage in a ten minute conversation with a woman about ‘her thing’ with expiration dates on Coca Cola, I thought, ‘hmmm, definitely not just me.’ The woman said she doesn’t do ‘cola,' because it’s too broad of a category that involves other types of dark, sugary, carbonated imitations. I could see her point. Orange drinks ranges from Sunny D to Tropicana. Chocolate drinks from Yoo-hoo to Quik. Anyway, she specified Coke and no more than three months to the expiration date, because the taste changed. It was then that I realized soda had expiration dates written up by the neck. Who knew? She said she had gone through shelves at stores checking dates and had been asked to leave one superstore because she ‘dropped’ the ones that were ‘old.' Clean up on aisle 8.
Amuse yourself as you peruse your market aisles and share with me if you know what that chocolate drink really is.