Food Fight!

This morning I lashed out at my husband over, would you believe it, a half eaten pack of Newman O's cookies. My husband has horrible eating habits. Sometimes I find it crazy we can be so different and still co-habitate. I'm all about exercise and eating natural, almost vegan foods. I believe in indulging a sweet tooth so long as portions are small and the majority of other daily snacks are fruits, veggies, and nuts. My husband on the other hand, gave up on the gym after an injury (which he was told he could still work out just not as intensely), refuses to eat anything green, and will starve himself all day sans for giant sugary DD coffees, several cans of Sprite, and dinner. To him this is weight control, until he gets up in the middle of the night and raids the kitchen consuming food faster than a high school football team at a spaghetti dinner. I saw a special on "sleep eaters" once and I'm still not 100% convinced he doesn't have this bizarre sleepwalking disorder. He says he doesn't and is fully aware of the amount of food he ingests during the very witching hours of night. He probably would be safer if he lied and said he wasn't aware, because lately the cost of food and frequency with which I am shopping for it has me in a tizzy. A short time ago we went from a family of 2 to a family of four and my toddlers are consuming food almost as quickly as their daddy is, but they are growing up as a result, not out. I have tried everything, lately I've been buying in bulk hoping stuff would last longer, unfortunately it only causes him to increase the volumhe of what he eats. I have hidden food from him in hopes of making it last, but he's slowly discovering all of my hiding spots. So this morning, on bill paying day, after another week of grossly inflated grocery bills I discovered the box of cookies, MY vegan cookies that are about the only sweet I buy for myself, my cookies that I eat at a rate of 2 neatly tucked into my lunch pack per day, my cookies of which I only opened the package last night while I was making my lunch, were half gone. The man ate half of MY cookies along with all the other crap I buy just for him. This man eats too much, food costs too much, and I end up angry, and hungry for stuff I was planning to enjoy, but vanished before I could taste it. I'm so tired of this never ending food fight and wonder if this is the way the male sex eats, and if it does, what's going to happen when my toddlers become young men. College fund or snack savings?

What's in a Name?

Why Tammy Timewarp? Well, Tammy just sounded good with Timewarp. So, why Timewarp? That's going to take a longer explanation. It goes back two generations to that of my (and most likely your) grandparents' generation. The Golden Generation, children of the Great Depression who saw this country through WWII and came out of it strong and prosperous. They knew how to make do in lean times, and then, when times weren't so lean anymore, they lived within their means, they saved their money, they bought American, they built businesses from nothing,and they were proud. Their values were pure, their marriages lasted, their children were nurtured and polite and grew into successful adults. So, what happened? How did we fall so far? Why are so many marriages failing? Why are we working harder than ever and barely making ends meet? Why are our children growing up angry, depressed, and violent? When my mother speaks of her childhood she remembers my grandmother wearing an apron, dress, and heels while dancing around the house as she cooked fresh meals and dusted. These young girls who had those afterschool Tollhouse cookie moments are the same ones who burned their bras and protested in hopes of equal opportunities. By the time my (and most likely your) generation was in school our mothers were somewhere between what their's were and what we were to become. Maybe they stayed home with us until we were in school, maybe they never went to work at all, but most likely they had a choice. Most likely, at least during our most formative years, they were there whenever we needed them and not trapped in some office wondering what frozen meal to pull out of the freezer for dinner. Now here we are in 2012 and women are outnumbering men in college attendance and the workforce. Now we are expected to do it all, have a career, have a family, keep the house clean, cook organic meals, run marathons, and keep an Etsy shop. I don't know about you, but I'm burning out. My kids will most likely remember their babysitter when they think of their childhood because mommy was trying to keep a roof over their heads and a good insurance policy for doctor visits she feared having to ask her boss for a half day to attend. This is why Timewarp, because we need one. We need that simple life back again when family came first over the mighty dollar. When people dressed up and called one another by their proper names. When children felt loved and secure and marriage was truly for better or worse. When both parents worked outside the home out of want and not necessity. I have college and graduate degrees, a career, and a family just like my mother dreamed I would, but it's her dream, not mine. My dream was to be like my grandmother, singing and dancing as I dusted the furniture, with Tollhouse cookies in the oven, all while wearing an apron, dress, and heels.

Though I've been tweeting my hectic housekeeping tips for months, yeah I know you haven't seen them, I'm new to the blogosphere. I'm creating this space to laugh, to vent, and to be truthful. Some truths you may never know like who I am, where I live, how old my children are. I keep my identity hidden not just for safety, because face it, there are quacks, crazies, and axe murderers trolling the Internet, but also it gives me the freedom to be truthful about how I feel. I can be honest that I'm bitter that I'm currently the unwilling breadwinner in my household, I can speak freely about my strange neighbors, obnoxious co workers and meddling mother in law. Really, what's more intesting, the names ages and pictures of my nearest and dearest or stories of the many people and events that piss me off and mold me into the sarcastic spitfire I am becoming?