Silent Protests Against My Mother

Ever wonder why your parents made some of the decisions they did?  No, you cannot take the turtle into bed with you!  No, you may not watch Pink Floyd’s The Wall with your brother!  No, you may not eat double stuff oreos, and I don’t care if Liz’s mom lets her!

My mom is a great mom.  She writes in perfect cursive penmanship, has impeccable spelling, pays attention to detail, writes long letters and mails them with real stamps and envelopes and everything.  She likes to sing, read mystery books, bake a variety of coffee cakes, and spy out the windows.

But I have one bone to pick with my mother.  Throughout my childhood, on countless trips to the grocery store, she would never let me get double stuff oreos!  This woman who rarely enforced rules about vegetables, or clean plate clubs, who married a baker, son of a woman who enforced dessert before dinner, wouldn’t let me eat double stuff oreos!  Hell, I had coca cola in my sippy cups!!!  (That may be why I stopped growing in eighth grade.)

This anti-oreo rule never made sense to me.  I was a child who liked milk.  I had contests with my father over who could drink their milk the fastest at dinner.  I don’t know if you’re aware, but milk and oreos are like made for each other, best friends forever, kindred spirits from the galactic orbs of destined to be together soulmates!  I bet if you eat an oreo without milk, your heart shrinks a little.

I reiterate my mother’s inconsistent lessons about the value of a nutritional diet; my mother had her days where cooking was not placed on the top of the list, in fact it was scribbled out and snipped straightly off the bottom of the notepad.  Those days were called Sundays, or any other day one of her favorite TV shows was on.  On these days we ate popcorn for dinner.  Popcorn and slices of cheddar cheese.  Maybe, maybe I’d have to eat like 4 slices of an apple.  I never complained.  I loved popcorn nights!  Those of you who know me can attest I have an affinity for airy, crunchy snacks at mealtime.

As the years passed, I grew older, she refused to buy double stuff oreos.  When I first moved out and began to buy my own groceries, I followed her approach in mastering the marketplace.  Simply put, take your sweet time going up and down every aisle.  You can make a list, sure, but it’s fun to add to it with new items that sound exotic and delectable like bagel chips.  Is it more bagel or more chip, I don’t know, but their deliciousness drives me mad!

On one such shopping trip, I happened down the cookie aisle and low and behold on the very end, right at eye level, was that familiar looking Nabisco symbol in the corner of the shiny blue packaging.  I picked up the package, looked side to side to see if anyone was watching, looked up to see if lightening bolts were crashing down and it appeared…no one gave a damn.  So I put them in my cart.  But as I wheeled around the aisle to the checkout, I couldn’t help but smirk.  Take that, Mom!

What are the ridiculous rules your parents enforced?  Did you ever protest?  Did your rebellion taste as sweet and chocolately as mine?

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18 responses

  1. My mom cooked dinner every night. We had tea and cookies after dinner every day. We also had a soda man who delivered cases of soda. Yikes. That’s the 70s for you. Once a year, mom would get it into her head that we needed to eat liver, as if that annual portion would keep us healthy for the remaining 364 days. She could not be swayed. She cooked up the vile organ, stinking up the house in the process, and we sat at that table until we’d eaten it or my sister puked, whichever came first. I employed a special grating technique with my knife that filed the liver into thin slices you could view under a microscope and mixed it into my mashed potatoes, added ketchup, and gulped it down without breathing.

    Today I love to praise her for feeding her kids an organ used to detoxify a cow’s body.

    Someday I’ll tell you the story of the day she cooked up kidneys, despite the butcher’s warnings.

    1. Oooh, can’t wait!

      1. You’re a glutton for punishment. 😉

  2. I’m feeling a little nauseous after reading Margaret’s comment, lol.

    The Holy Grail for me was always Cookie Crisp. I longed for it and begged my mom to buy it, but to no avail. I was stuck instead with Special K and Rice Krispies. So of course, once I was living on my own, I made it a point to rush out and buy a box of Cookie Crisp cereal.

    Which, it turned out, was pretty nasty…

    1. I have the same feeling about Fruity Pebbles.

  3. I went to bed at 8:30 p.m. until I was twelve! I got them back though…my brother and I were always up by 5:30 or 6 in the morning!

    Wendy

    1. 8:30! The sun is still out in the summer! I’m glad you got them back.

  4. I have laughed out loud! Ha! My mom was very permissive, perhaps too much so. I cannot remember anything I wanted that she wouldn’t let me have. Blessings to you, Jess…

    1. You must have been a well behaved child. When I read this memoir to my mother, she didn’t deny I was given coca cola in my sippy cup, only that I exaggerated about the number of times it occurred. I never listed a number, I just said it happened! lol. Before hanging up she said, “I’ll try not to think bad thoughts about you, but I might.” Thanks for sending the blessings to counteract her evil wishes.

  5. I can’t believe you had a childhood without Double Stuf Oreos! My parents weren’t strict with food (they couldn’t possibly be – my mom’s morning drink was Coca Cola.) I remember being upset when they told us we couldn’t watch MTV anymore (and it was during a Billy Joel video – hardly ‘racy’ at all!)

    Glad you got the oreos!

    1. You had cable!!! Sooooo jealous! Another delight I wasn’t in contact with until moving out.

  6. *shudder* I had to eat pickled beets. *shudder* I can’t even talk about it.

    For the love, just pass the Double Stuf Oreos this way. Please.

    1. Oh my god, I bet we had the same grandmother. I had to eat beets too. Where should I send the cookies?!

  7. There are still a few foods that haven’t been precisely identified, and Oreos happen to contain two of them. That cookie flavor isn’t quite chocolate; it seems to be the color of potting soil (although I’m not suggesting a connection). And that filling. It isn’t frosting, or cream. It’s creme, a word the snack food industry made up, simply because there are rules about using cream too loosely. The fact that Double Stuf has twice as much of the filling may have just been too much mystery for your Mom. Or maybe she’s a stickler for spelling and logic, and found it confusing that a cookie with double stuff had only half as many F’s. Whatever the case, Jess, I’m glad you had this breakthrough.

    And before Margaret jumps all over me, I just want to go on record as saying that I love Double Stuf Oreos. I really do. Whatever they are.

    1. Cream, creme? It tastes good in milk. And I think it’s a step up from bologna. 😉

  8. I hate parental decisions. 😡

  9. […] (I’m well of aware of the bologna incident, and the write like potatoes incident, and the double stuff oreos incident in spite of my mother.  It’s about progress, and part of progress comes from being […]

  10. […] the post Silent Protests Against My Mother originally posted March 14, […]

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