Humble brag: At 52, Mrs. Creepy still has a beautiful set of cans. Think Skinny's mom, only better. She's ageless that one, especially upstairs.
Let me tell you. When she was 28 and knocked up with our first born ... H-O-L-Y shit. I have yet to see a better set. Ever. You heard me. Ever. And I mean it. No bias.
It's those memories of mammary that bind us together to this day.
Anyway, I lost track of why I posted. Oh yeah. Those things lactated like nobody's bidness. She had to keep them covered up or they'd squirt all over the place. Real thing. I ain't lyin'. Those things were OOC ... in a good way.
Any parent that has a screen time prohibition is FS. We'd be divorced already if it wasn't for the miracle of TV babysitter.
We try to limit it to two hours per day (one each, but they're both always watching/playing, so it's basically two). By "try," I mean we tell the kids they each get an hour, then we get busy doing things, six hours go by, kids are still drooling and watching Netflix or playing Castle Crashers, and I'm like, "Eh... tomorrow they'll go outside."
Rinse, repeat.
My friends come over, say their kids are on a strict half hour per day regimen, and it's all I can do to stop myself from rolling my eyes and making the jerkoff motion: Either your life as a functioning adult, with your own desires and concerns and ambitions, is OVER or your kids are going to be plopped in front of some screens. There's no having it both ways.
Humble brag: At 52, Mrs. Creepy still has a beautiful set of cans. Think Skinny's mom, only better. She's ageless that one, especially upstairs.
Let me tell you. When she was 28 and knocked up with our first born ... H-O-L-Y shit. I have yet to see a better set. Ever. You heard me. Ever. And I mean it. No bias.
It's those memories of mammary that bind us together to this day.
Anyway, I lost track of why I posted. Oh yeah. Those things lactated like nobody's bidness. She had to keep them covered up or they'd squirt all over the place. Real thing. I ain't lyin'. Those things were OOC ... in a good way.
Humble brag: At 52, Mrs. Creepy still has a beautiful set of cans. Think Skinny's mom, only better. She's ageless that one, especially upstairs.
Let me tell you. When she was 28 and knocked up with our first born ... H-O-L-Y shit. I have yet to see a better set. Ever. You heard me. Ever. And I mean it. No bias.
It's those memories of mammary that bind us together to this day.
Anyway, I lost track of why I posted. Oh yeah. Those things lactated like nobody's bidness. She had to keep them covered up or they'd squirt all over the place. Real thing. I ain't lyin'. Those things were OOC ... in a good way.
Carry on.
Imagine bragging about one's spouse's cans on a college football message. Christos!!
Any parent that has a screen time prohibition is FS. We'd be divorced already if it wasn't for the miracle of TV babysitter.
Screen time even my wife the pro uses. We try to keep it limited but it makes it that much more effective when she does get it.
We probably go over too much on the weekends (weekdays are fine because kids are in school). But we live where we live. It's not sunny and nice outside much of the year and there's only so much you can do to entertain kids on a rainy day.
Any parent that has a screen time prohibition is FS. We'd be divorced already if it wasn't for the miracle of TV babysitter.
Screen time even my wife the pro uses. We try to keep it limited but it makes it that much more effective when she does get it.
I have three. The one who just got accepted into a PhD program for maff watched Teletubbies and loved it. Teletubbies. If you ever watched 2 minutes of that shit you'd know what I mean. Spooky weird. This one:
She managed to survive.
Creepy Tim advice for the day: don't try too hard with your kids. It won't really make that much of a difference either way. They are resilient af and will survive and thrive despite your worst parental mistakes; and they're not going to MIT or playing for the DAWGS! if their DNA coding doesn't say so. Life's beautiful and life's a bitch. Boffe.
Any parent that has a screen time prohibition is FS. We'd be divorced already if it wasn't for the miracle of TV babysitter.
Screen time even my wife the pro uses. We try to keep it limited but it makes it that much more effective when she does get it.
I have three. The one who just got accepted into a PhD program for maff watched Teletubbies and loved it. Teletubbies. If you ever watched 2 minutes of that shit you'd know what I mean. Spooky weird. This one:
She managed to survive.
Creepy Tim advice for the day: don't try too hard with your kids. It won't really make that much of a difference either way. They are resilient af and will survive and thrive despite your worst parental mistakes; and they're not going to MIT or playing for the DAWGS! if their DNA coding doesn't say so. Life's beautiful and life's a bitch. Boffe.
Yep. Cognitive ability is pretty much formed by age 2 or so anyhow. It's basically genetic luck + the home environment in the first few years- i.e., adequate nutrition, sleep and not too much stress. Hence, why I think many parents over think a lot of this stuff.
Humble brag: At 52, Mrs. Creepy still has a beautiful set of cans. Think Skinny's mom, only better. She's ageless that one, especially upstairs.
Let me tell you. When she was 28 and knocked up with our first born ... H-O-L-Y shit. I have yet to see a better set. Ever. You heard me. Ever. And I mean it. No bias.
It's those memories of mammary that bind us together to this day.
Anyway, I lost track of why I posted. Oh yeah. Those things lactated like nobody's bidness. She had to keep them covered up or they'd squirt all over the place. Real thing. I ain't lyin'. Those things were OOC ... in a good way.
Carry on.
Imagine bragging about one's spouse's cans on a college football message. Christos!!
I can't help it. Those things are SEC-caliber. In their heyday, they were 2001 Miami-level. THAT nice.
You know what they say down souwf: it ain't braggin' if it's true. That makes no sense; few things in the armpit know as the southeastern US do. But it sounded good.
Humble brag: At 52, Mrs. Creepy still has a beautiful set of cans. Think Skinny's mom, only better. She's ageless that one, especially upstairs.
Let me tell you. When she was 28 and knocked up with our first born ... H-O-L-Y shit. I have yet to see a better set. Ever. You heard me. Ever. And I mean it. No bias.
It's those memories of mammary that bind us together to this day.
Anyway, I lost track of why I posted. Oh yeah. Those things lactated like nobody's bidness. She had to keep them covered up or they'd squirt all over the place. Real thing. I ain't lyin'. Those things were OOC ... in a good way.
Carry on.
Imagine bragging about one's spouse's cans on a college football message. Christos!!
Any parent that has a screen time prohibition is FS. We'd be divorced already if it wasn't for the miracle of TV babysitter.
We try to limit it to two hours per day (one each, but they're both always watching/playing, so it's basically two). By "try," I mean we tell the kids they each get an hour, then we get busy doing things, six hours go by, kids are still drooling and watching Netflix or playing Castle Crashers, and I'm like, "Eh... tomorrow they'll go outside."
Rinse, repeat.
My friends come over, say their kids are on a strict half hour per day regimen, and it's all I can do to stop myself from rolling my eyes and making the jerkoff motion: Either your life as a functioning adult, with your own desires and concerns and ambitions, is OVER or your kids are going to be plopped in front of some screens. There's no having it both ways.
I've lived this. For real.
What I've learned about parenting after a half-century on this planet is this: be a decent human being, treat your wife well and go to work every day. Your kids will watch you do these things and that will prove to be 1,000,000X more important than screen time, club sports, private school, playing classical music in the house, Cello lessons, learning French and all the shit you're going to lecture to them (which will go in one ear and out the other 99.9% of the tim, so save it).
And find better friends. I cut out people like that early on. Took my wife (the one with the beautimus cans) longer to cut bait with some people, which is weird when I look back on it because she's always had better instincts for social stuff than I.
My kids are good people and self-sufficient relative to their age. We've had great proud moments and we've had some hum dingers in the house. They make me happy and they are often the most giant pain in my ass. Raising children is not for the weak.
The lesson I'm learning now, which is probably the most important one, is this: you have to become your own person again after they're grown and wean yourself from riding their life's roller coaster with them. As one very wise person put it to me - you have to eventually get to the point at which you don't feel pain every time one of your kids gets pinched. At some point, you gotta let go enough to enjoy your life. I'm still working on this part, but I'm getting there. Not sure the wife will ever make it.
Humble brag: At 52, Mrs. Creepy still has a beautiful set of cans. Think Skinny's mom, only better. She's ageless that one, especially upstairs.
Let me tell you. When she was 28 and knocked up with our first born ... H-O-L-Y shit. I have yet to see a better set. Ever. You heard me. Ever. And I mean it. No bias.
It's those memories of mammary that bind us together to this day.
Anyway, I lost track of why I posted. Oh yeah. Those things lactated like nobody's bidness. She had to keep them covered up or they'd squirt all over the place. Real thing. I ain't lyin'. Those things were OOC ... in a good way.
Carry on.
Imagine bragging about one's spouse's cans on a college football message. Christos!!
Pimping out the cans is acceptable. Pimping out the person is wrong. There is a line to be crossed.
Any parent that has a screen time prohibition is FS. We'd be divorced already if it wasn't for the miracle of TV babysitter.
We try to limit it to two hours per day (one each, but they're both always watching/playing, so it's basically two). By "try," I mean we tell the kids they each get an hour, then we get busy doing things, six hours go by, kids are still drooling and watching Netflix or playing Castle Crashers, and I'm like, "Eh... tomorrow they'll go outside."
Rinse, repeat.
My friends come over, say their kids are on a strict half hour per day regimen, and it's all I can do to stop myself from rolling my eyes and making the jerkoff motion: Either your life as a functioning adult, with your own desires and concerns and ambitions, is OVER or your kids are going to be plopped in front of some screens. There's no having it both ways.
I've lived this. For real.
What I've learned about parenting after a half-century on this planet is this: be a decent human being, treat your wife well and go to work every day. Your kids will watch you do these things and that will prove to be 1,000,000X more important than screen time, club sports, private school, playing classical music in the house, Cello lessons, learning French and all the shit you're going to lecture to them (which will go in one ear and out the other 99.9% of the tim, so save it).
And find better friends. I cut out people like that early on. Took my wife (the one with the beautimus cans) longer to cut bait with some people, which is weird when I look back on it because she's always had better instincts for social stuff than I.
My kids are good people and self-sufficient relative to their age. We've had great proud moments and we've had some hum dingers in the house. They make me happy and they are often the most giant pain in my ass. Raising children is not for the weak.
The lesson I'm learning now, which is probably the most important one, is this: you have to become your own person again after they're grown and wean yourself from riding their life's roller coaster with them. As one very wise person put it to me - you have to eventually get to the point at which you don't feel pain every time one of your kids gets pinched. At some point, you gotta let go enough to enjoy your life. I'm still working on this part, but I'm getting there. Not sure the wife will ever make it.
You forgot row boat, Creep. Nothing builds character and integrity in young people like row boat.
Any parent that has a screen time prohibition is FS. We'd be divorced already if it wasn't for the miracle of TV babysitter.
We try to limit it to two hours per day (one each, but they're both always watching/playing, so it's basically two). By "try," I mean we tell the kids they each get an hour, then we get busy doing things, six hours go by, kids are still drooling and watching Netflix or playing Castle Crashers, and I'm like, "Eh... tomorrow they'll go outside."
Rinse, repeat.
My friends come over, say their kids are on a strict half hour per day regimen, and it's all I can do to stop myself from rolling my eyes and making the jerkoff motion: Either your life as a functioning adult, with your own desires and concerns and ambitions, is OVER or your kids are going to be plopped in front of some screens. There's no having it both ways.
I've lived this. For real.
What I've learned about parenting after a half-century on this planet is this: be a decent human being, treat your wife well and go to work every day. Your kids will watch you do these things and that will prove to be 1,000,000X more important than screen time, club sports, private school, playing classical music in the house, Cello lessons, learning French and all the shit you're going to lecture to them (which will go in one ear and out the other 99.9% of the tim, so save it).
And find better friends. I cut out people like that early on. Took my wife (the one with the beautimus cans) longer to cut bait with some people, which is weird when I look back on it because she's always had better instincts for social stuff than I.
My kids are good people and self-sufficient relative to their age. We've had great proud moments and we've had some hum dingers in the house. They make me happy and they are often the most giant pain in my ass. Raising children is not for the weak.
The lesson I'm learning now, which is probably the most important one, is this: you have to become your own person again after they're grown and wean yourself from riding their life's roller coaster with them. As one very wise person put it to me - you have to eventually get to the point at which you don't feel pain every time one of your kids gets pinched. At some point, you gotta let go enough to enjoy your life. I'm still working on this part, but I'm getting there. Not sure the wife will ever make it.
You forgot row boat, Creep. Nothing builds character and integrity in young people like row boat.
Any parent that has a screen time prohibition is FS. We'd be divorced already if it wasn't for the miracle of TV babysitter.
We try to limit it to two hours per day (one each, but they're both always watching/playing, so it's basically two). By "try," I mean we tell the kids they each get an hour, then we get busy doing things, six hours go by, kids are still drooling and watching Netflix or playing Castle Crashers, and I'm like, "Eh... tomorrow they'll go outside."
Rinse, repeat.
My friends come over, say their kids are on a strict half hour per day regimen, and it's all I can do to stop myself from rolling my eyes and making the jerkoff motion: Either your life as a functioning adult, with your own desires and concerns and ambitions, is OVER or your kids are going to be plopped in front of some screens. There's no having it both ways.
I've lived this. For real.
What I've learned about parenting after a half-century on this planet is this: be a decent human being, treat your wife well and go to work every day. Your kids will watch you do these things and that will prove to be 1,000,000X more important than screen time, club sports, private school, playing classical music in the house, Cello lessons, learning French and all the shit you're going to lecture to them (which will go in one ear and out the other 99.9% of the tim, so save it).
And find better friends. I cut out people like that early on. Took my wife (the one with the beautimus cans) longer to cut bait with some people, which is weird when I look back on it because she's always had better instincts for social stuff than I.
My kids are good people and self-sufficient relative to their age. We've had great proud moments and we've had some hum dingers in the house. They make me happy and they are often the most giant pain in my ass. Raising children is not for the weak.
The lesson I'm learning now, which is probably the most important one, is this: you have to become your own person again after they're grown and wean yourself from riding their life's roller coaster with them. As one very wise person put it to me - you have to eventually get to the point at which you don't feel pain every time one of your kids gets pinched. At some point, you gotta let go enough to enjoy your life. I'm still working on this part, but I'm getting there. Not sure the wife will ever make it.
You forgot row boat, Creep. Nothing builds character and integrity in young people like row boat.
Comments
Let me tell you. When she was 28 and knocked up with our first born ... H-O-L-Y shit. I have yet to see a better set. Ever. You heard me. Ever. And I mean it. No bias.
It's those memories of mammary that bind us together to this day.
Anyway, I lost track of why I posted. Oh yeah. Those things lactated like nobody's bidness. She had to keep them covered up or they'd squirt all over the place. Real thing. I ain't lyin'. Those things were OOC ... in a good way.
Carry on.
Rinse, repeat.
My friends come over, say their kids are on a strict half hour per day regimen, and it's all I can do to stop myself from rolling my eyes and making the jerkoff motion: Either your life as a functioning adult, with your own desires and concerns and ambitions, is OVER or your kids are going to be plopped in front of some screens. There's no having it both ways.
She managed to survive.
Creepy Tim advice for the day: don't try too hard with your kids. It won't really make that much of a difference either way. They are resilient af and will survive and thrive despite your worst parental mistakes; and they're not going to MIT or playing for the DAWGS! if their DNA coding doesn't say so. Life's beautiful and life's a bitch. Boffe.
You know what they say down souwf: it ain't braggin' if it's true. That makes no sense; few things in the armpit know as the southeastern US do. But it sounded good.
You always struck me as a General Hospital, Luke & Laura guy. That Bobbie chick has nice big melons, too.
I guess ya never know when your sponsor choices are Tide vs. Cheer.
What I've learned about parenting after a half-century on this planet is this: be a decent human being, treat your wife well and go to work every day. Your kids will watch you do these things and that will prove to be 1,000,000X more important than screen time, club sports, private school, playing classical music in the house, Cello lessons, learning French and all the shit you're going to lecture to them (which will go in one ear and out the other 99.9% of the tim, so save it).
And find better friends. I cut out people like that early on. Took my wife (the one with the beautimus cans) longer to cut bait with some people, which is weird when I look back on it because she's always had better instincts for social stuff than I.
My kids are good people and self-sufficient relative to their age. We've had great proud moments and we've had some hum dingers in the house. They make me happy and they are often the most giant pain in my ass. Raising children is not for the weak.
The lesson I'm learning now, which is probably the most important one, is this: you have to become your own person again after they're grown and wean yourself from riding their life's roller coaster with them. As one very wise person put it to me - you have to eventually get to the point at which you don't feel pain every time one of your kids gets pinched. At some point, you gotta let go enough to enjoy your life. I'm still working on this part, but I'm getting there. Not sure the wife will ever make it.
I owe this dude my life.