This is the new look at my pre-school. They're thinking of banning me for being such a trendsetter. I breathe style. Work it y'all.
9 years ago
EGB News
Friday, October 21, 2011
Happy Friday
I hope you get your moo-moo on. While your at it wear your slippers outside. No rules.
This is the new look at my pre-school. They're thinking of banning me for being such a trendsetter. I breathe style. Work it y'all.
This is the new look at my pre-school. They're thinking of banning me for being such a trendsetter. I breathe style. Work it y'all.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Dad Blogger Product Review
Since this blog is so popular we've almost broken Google with our extreme traffic, I figured it be a good idea to review products from time to time to let the world know what the most famous family thinks of various products. We get so many free products in the mail that our mailman wants to fight me.
Keep em coming product people. I know sometimes you have to make a decision between us and some punk ass mom blogger. No fluff here. I keep it real. And if you send an envelope of cash, I'll say super nice stuff. I'll even be happy for a slice of pizza and a semi-cold beer...
Up next in my inventory of reviews is. The Comb. It came from China and while it looks all pretty and white. It works pretty bad. It's basically a medieval torture device for EGB. BB thinks it's funny, but he also thinks pooping in his pants is funny. I don't.
So to all you parents out there who are contemplating the purchase of a comb, think long and hard about what you're getting yourself into. Your fingers and a bucket of butter might just do the trick.
Papa Dangerous Product Rating Score= "I'll fight you for making this"
Keep em coming product people. I know sometimes you have to make a decision between us and some punk ass mom blogger. No fluff here. I keep it real. And if you send an envelope of cash, I'll say super nice stuff. I'll even be happy for a slice of pizza and a semi-cold beer...
Up next in my inventory of reviews is. The Comb. It came from China and while it looks all pretty and white. It works pretty bad. It's basically a medieval torture device for EGB. BB thinks it's funny, but he also thinks pooping in his pants is funny. I don't.
So to all you parents out there who are contemplating the purchase of a comb, think long and hard about what you're getting yourself into. Your fingers and a bucket of butter might just do the trick.
Papa Dangerous Product Rating Score= "I'll fight you for making this"
Friday, October 14, 2011
Oops We Did It Again
Well....We did what millions of confused parents have done before. We managed to turn on that great selective memory switch and rewrite history. We drank the potion until we were haphazard drunkards in the night.
As you may or may not know by now....We had another kid.
No matter how much I pride myself on my memory, I forgot the dark days of newborn rearing. I even wrote a post on this very blog about it here--My Advice To New Parents . Which by the way is my most popular post, meaning it's been read by 3 people instead of 2. It's not easy. It's hard work dammit. Ok, maybe not as much for me as it is for the Dairy Queen (who has somehow managed to open several DQ franchises in all rooms of our house and even the backseat of the car) but it's a collectively challenging experience. I mean damn, it was hard the first time, but I repressed all those memories and flushed them in the diaper pail.
Look I'm not saying that BB isn't a miracle. He is. He can crush the milk like a champion. If there was a Man vs. Food boob challenge on the Travel Channel he'd destroy it and go back for extra. Now that's actually a pretty interesting idea--a reality show based on breastmilk consumption contests. I can see it now, "Oh lawd! Baby Bridger just polished off a pony keg of boobie and has just sucker punched another baby off his mother's teat! We've got 6 security guards tugging on his body. That little dude is latched on like a mofo!!!!!!!"
I guess what I'm saying is that for a brief moment. And I mean really brief. I think we had a thing or two figured out. We had this EGB thing down. We knew what she likes and doesn't like. Some semblance of life, rhythm, and routine existed. Then we messed all that up. Bam. Boom. BB on the scene. So that high school symphony of life that we had down is now a 6th grade pirate punk band. Actually, it's more like a gang of feral toddlers high on Pop Rocks banging on trash cans. That's our life...strung out kids lost in the forest once again.
Here we go, the adventures continue. I just have to look at all of this confusion as temporary. As the semi-great, me, once said:
The new parent advice goes something like this--It's not easy. In fact it will be maybe one of the hardest things you'll ever do. There will be an immediate sense of loss.....At the end of the day, parenting is the most glorious affliction known. It's incurable, addictive, and the greatest thing that's ever happened me. The rewards will rain on us all. It comes in waves and next thing you know the "truth" that I spoke of is no longer of consequence. The tide turns and it becomes a whole new world order. I wouldn't trade it in for anything.
I guess now we wait. The fruits of life are within reach. It just takes a little time and the power of revisionist history will work its magic. We will forget the dark nights. It's as if we have to be designed this way in order to trick ourselves into the allure of having more children. Life in reflection is always more attractive. Life in action is full of dirty diapers, confusion, farts, short conversations, and the general sense of "what the what did we just get ourselves into".....again.
Suffering never makes sense when suffering. Maybe it's just that comfort kills the soul and that we're most alive when we feel most vulnerable. I'm not sure what that means, but it feels truthful. It's a relatively convoluted predicament--a borderline masochistic scenario, but there's some powerful outer forces telling us to do it again and again. And I can tell you from watching the awesome EGB continue to get awesomer--that it's all worth it. We just have to experience and survive it all to live to tell the great scrubbed-memory tales of our past.
So to those of us who know and have known no better, join the ride and trip of a lifetime because (insert inspiration here) it's too late to get off so you have no choice but to get dirty suckas. I see your weary eyes. There is a sense of purpose in there. It's really hard to see yourselves. In fact, others see it more than you do. In your honor, pat yourselves and sing a song. Thanks for partying with us. It'd be pretty hard to do alone.
Stay crazy.
BB had a long night. Opened his eyes for a minute and said something about Vegas and Mike Tyson. I don't want to know so I'm not asking anymore questions.
EGB at about the same age as BB is now. Being ready for the party runs in the blood. Also, for the record, don't leave your newborn at our house if you don't want to them to feel the noise.
This is my dad's friend, Electric D. He comes over from time-to-time and dances non-stop until he's a hot mess. Tells me I don't need music and that the party is in my head. Don't know what he means but this Madonna song is super fresh.
This dude is whack! EGB you gotta get that light saber away from him and shank him in calf. Help!
Really? You just gonna stand there and point that device at me? Do it again. I dare you. I'll paralyze you with a flurry of ninja stars. This outfit is making me look soft. Puppies? Come on. I'm a freaking mountain man. Don't make me kill a squirrel and wear his ass.
Umm..I guess I'm stuck with you captors. I gotta learn how to drive asap, get a 40oz, hop over to the airport and get up outta here.
What?!? Who is this putting her grubby lips on me? EGB you nasty! What you say? You have cookies? Oh....cool. I love you.
As you may or may not know by now....We had another kid.
No matter how much I pride myself on my memory, I forgot the dark days of newborn rearing. I even wrote a post on this very blog about it here--My Advice To New Parents . Which by the way is my most popular post, meaning it's been read by 3 people instead of 2. It's not easy. It's hard work dammit. Ok, maybe not as much for me as it is for the Dairy Queen (who has somehow managed to open several DQ franchises in all rooms of our house and even the backseat of the car) but it's a collectively challenging experience. I mean damn, it was hard the first time, but I repressed all those memories and flushed them in the diaper pail.
Look I'm not saying that BB isn't a miracle. He is. He can crush the milk like a champion. If there was a Man vs. Food boob challenge on the Travel Channel he'd destroy it and go back for extra. Now that's actually a pretty interesting idea--a reality show based on breastmilk consumption contests. I can see it now, "Oh lawd! Baby Bridger just polished off a pony keg of boobie and has just sucker punched another baby off his mother's teat! We've got 6 security guards tugging on his body. That little dude is latched on like a mofo!!!!!!!"
I guess what I'm saying is that for a brief moment. And I mean really brief. I think we had a thing or two figured out. We had this EGB thing down. We knew what she likes and doesn't like. Some semblance of life, rhythm, and routine existed. Then we messed all that up. Bam. Boom. BB on the scene. So that high school symphony of life that we had down is now a 6th grade pirate punk band. Actually, it's more like a gang of feral toddlers high on Pop Rocks banging on trash cans. That's our life...strung out kids lost in the forest once again.
Here we go, the adventures continue. I just have to look at all of this confusion as temporary. As the semi-great, me, once said:
The new parent advice goes something like this--It's not easy. In fact it will be maybe one of the hardest things you'll ever do. There will be an immediate sense of loss.....At the end of the day, parenting is the most glorious affliction known. It's incurable, addictive, and the greatest thing that's ever happened me. The rewards will rain on us all. It comes in waves and next thing you know the "truth" that I spoke of is no longer of consequence. The tide turns and it becomes a whole new world order. I wouldn't trade it in for anything.
I guess now we wait. The fruits of life are within reach. It just takes a little time and the power of revisionist history will work its magic. We will forget the dark nights. It's as if we have to be designed this way in order to trick ourselves into the allure of having more children. Life in reflection is always more attractive. Life in action is full of dirty diapers, confusion, farts, short conversations, and the general sense of "what the what did we just get ourselves into".....again.
Suffering never makes sense when suffering. Maybe it's just that comfort kills the soul and that we're most alive when we feel most vulnerable. I'm not sure what that means, but it feels truthful. It's a relatively convoluted predicament--a borderline masochistic scenario, but there's some powerful outer forces telling us to do it again and again. And I can tell you from watching the awesome EGB continue to get awesomer--that it's all worth it. We just have to experience and survive it all to live to tell the great scrubbed-memory tales of our past.
So to those of us who know and have known no better, join the ride and trip of a lifetime because (insert inspiration here) it's too late to get off so you have no choice but to get dirty suckas. I see your weary eyes. There is a sense of purpose in there. It's really hard to see yourselves. In fact, others see it more than you do. In your honor, pat yourselves and sing a song. Thanks for partying with us. It'd be pretty hard to do alone.
Stay crazy.
BB had a long night. Opened his eyes for a minute and said something about Vegas and Mike Tyson. I don't want to know so I'm not asking anymore questions.
EGB at about the same age as BB is now. Being ready for the party runs in the blood. Also, for the record, don't leave your newborn at our house if you don't want to them to feel the noise.
This is my dad's friend, Electric D. He comes over from time-to-time and dances non-stop until he's a hot mess. Tells me I don't need music and that the party is in my head. Don't know what he means but this Madonna song is super fresh.
This dude is whack! EGB you gotta get that light saber away from him and shank him in calf. Help!
Really? You just gonna stand there and point that device at me? Do it again. I dare you. I'll paralyze you with a flurry of ninja stars. This outfit is making me look soft. Puppies? Come on. I'm a freaking mountain man. Don't make me kill a squirrel and wear his ass.
Ok. Now I'm a prisoner? Thanks for the stripes. I'm not really feeling this family. Can I get a redirect or something? Preferably a family on the coast of Italy that makes really good artisan milk....and has a beach side villa. Please?
Umm..I guess I'm stuck with you captors. I gotta learn how to drive asap, get a 40oz, hop over to the airport and get up outta here.
Friday, October 7, 2011
I Think EGB is Handling This New Situation Quite Well
Some days is all cool.
Other days it's a little confusing.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Welcome to the Internet...
Welcome to the ring of fire. Welcome to the wild world baby man-child...Bridger Hayes Bohrman! Weighing in at a whopping 7 LBs and 3 OZs and cut like a diamond you brought the party and you brought it quick.
Since I know you all love a story, I'll give it to you.
Papa D wakes up 5:30. Dairy Queen (her throne is intact) indicates pre-labor. Papa D sweats from ears and packs bags. EGB pending-caretakers not answering phones. Papa D bleeds from eyeballs. Dairy Queen indicates time to hit the road. EGB wakes up at 6:20 and gets dressed NASCAR pit crew style. Clan in car at 6:35. Dairy Queen breathing fire. At 6:45 Papa D and EGB bang on door of caretakers and jump through window. Papa D channels inner Dale Earnhardt and hauls Dairy Queen to hospital for a 7:00 arrival......then a bunch of weird elves took over, sprinkling fairy dust. Baby BB was hurled out of the womb at 7:30 and caught by Papa D who conveniently brought his catchers mitt and salad tongs to the hospital. That's it. He arrived. We are doing the damn thing once again.
Efficiency in the child production stage has it's benefits. Bagel and coffee by 7:35.
Here I am in all my glory. My eyes aren't closed. I'm just faking out Chuck Norris who is coming after me because I'm the only thing that's ever scared him. Fist of steel Chuckie boy. Get near me and I'll pop your furry chin. I DARE YOU! I'm sorry world--I'm actually quite nice and soft and have hair on my shoulders like my old man. Hey nurse, can you turn off that light? I'm getting sun burnt over here. This whole being-outside-of-a-belly-thing is getting on my nerves.
And so....the adventure of EGB and BB await us all. Buckle up. Tales are a comin'...........
Since I know you all love a story, I'll give it to you.
Papa D wakes up 5:30. Dairy Queen (her throne is intact) indicates pre-labor. Papa D sweats from ears and packs bags. EGB pending-caretakers not answering phones. Papa D bleeds from eyeballs. Dairy Queen indicates time to hit the road. EGB wakes up at 6:20 and gets dressed NASCAR pit crew style. Clan in car at 6:35. Dairy Queen breathing fire. At 6:45 Papa D and EGB bang on door of caretakers and jump through window. Papa D channels inner Dale Earnhardt and hauls Dairy Queen to hospital for a 7:00 arrival......then a bunch of weird elves took over, sprinkling fairy dust. Baby BB was hurled out of the womb at 7:30 and caught by Papa D who conveniently brought his catchers mitt and salad tongs to the hospital. That's it. He arrived. We are doing the damn thing once again.
Efficiency in the child production stage has it's benefits. Bagel and coffee by 7:35.
Here I am in all my glory. My eyes aren't closed. I'm just faking out Chuck Norris who is coming after me because I'm the only thing that's ever scared him. Fist of steel Chuckie boy. Get near me and I'll pop your furry chin. I DARE YOU! I'm sorry world--I'm actually quite nice and soft and have hair on my shoulders like my old man. Hey nurse, can you turn off that light? I'm getting sun burnt over here. This whole being-outside-of-a-belly-thing is getting on my nerves.
