EPPERSONIC...

Give my regards to...

2010-06-14T23:30:00.017-04:00

...a sweaty, ABC gum-covered auditorium in Parsippany, New Jersey.

After 9 months in tap/ballet Brooklyn's long-awaited performance had arrived. Roughly a thousand bucks and 40 trips to class ended with a bunch of parents pulling themselves away from the couch to don their best mustard-stained WWE paraphernalia and watch kids lunge about a creaky high school stage for 2 hours. Anticipation hung in the air, palpable like Brut cologne, which also hung in the air since 50% of the Fathers kept an extra bottle in the glove compartment of the Fiero for 'special occasions'.

Brooklyn's class, a gaggle of Pre-K giggling girls, tap-danced to Annie's 'You're Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile'. It was really cute, but lasted all of 80 seconds. 80 fetching seconds - here, take my money.

In all seriousness, it was a cute performance and the girl in the middle really was the best. ;)

It's what you wear from ear to ear, and not from head to toe...

That matters...

Sheree recently told Bear "we'll water the plants tomorrow, tomorrow" - to which he replied "I luv ya, tomorrow...", attempting to complete the Annie ditty.

At Brooklyn's practice recital the week before the performance, here is Braden looking mad because he spent the day in a sort of all-day rolling time-out. This kid really can flip the switch from "ruly" to "unruly" to "beyond Thunderdome" in a matter of minutes.

Instead of using his words to let us know he's done with the Cinnamon Toast Crunch, he thinks it's just hi-larious to dump the bowl on his head. Actually, he thinks any mess that someone else has to clean up is hilarious.

Brittiny and I have Birthdays a week apart, so Nano

blesses our house with the Twin Abes come June. Wow, another Bday.

But I don't need Nano's thoughtful fin to realize that I am old.

The other day I spent 20 minutes looking for the Icy Hot, then proceeded to blame my prolonged search on the kids having 'gotten into my stuff'.

Who does that sound like, Dad???

Teach your children well...

2010-05-17T21:38:00.011-04:00

... to do as you say, not as you do. Otherwise you risk a child exposing, in you, the moral hazard oft-cited in connection with government programs and the mafia.

Exhibit A:

Dad

"No candy, honey, we eat good things because they help us stay healthy and keep our bodies strong."

The 4 year-old daughter

"Then you need to eat more good things, fat-boy."

Dad

"Brooklyn, remember that in the course of justice, none of us should see salvation. We do pray for mercy. And that same prayer doth teach us all to render the deeds of mercy."

The 4 year-old daughter

"Dad, I have some good news and some bad news. The really bad news is that you are getting fat. Well, I don't really have any good news."

Stiff upper lip and all while your child argues her way out of a teachable moment and reveals your dichotomic actions - without even taking her attention away from Wow Wow Wubbzy - then nuzzle up to some Chubby Hubby, Chubby Hubby.

Picture of Bear-Bear on the cusp of "being up to no good". He has this look that makes you compulsively recount all the Sharpies in the kitchen drawer and sit straining your ears to listen for the gentle trickle of running water somewhere in the house.

Brittiny was craving Baja's, a Mexican food joint in CT one Saturday morning, and Pregnant Wife gets what Pregnant Wife wants: a trip to the ol' stomping grounds and authentic guacamole. Here we walked along the Waste Haven boardwalk.

Brittiny and Brookers in Wooster Park. We had to pay Brooklyn $5 to get her to smile.

The kids and I are petting a very friendly chocolate lab mix. His name was Unconditional Surrender.

Bear playing in Wooster Park. I like this picture 'cause he looks like a little dude.

Now he's hanging around.

Brooklyn looking beautiful and sweet. How I'll miss these days when she's somewhere between age 10 and How-Ever-Old-Kellie-is-Right-Now.

The erosion of bedtime stories in the Epperson household...

2010-05-01T21:43:00.018-04:00

is nearly complete. Time was I would bring elaborate plot-lines and character-specific voices into the evening storytelling. Subtly I would lead Brooklyn, wide-eyed, through a world of grotesque monsters, angelic princesses and involved social situations. The plot-lines were complicated and imaginative (think Dexter) and the action intense (think Remo Williams). But, sadly, I realize that the situation has somehow changed.

To wit, here is a portion from Brookers' favorite bedtime story 2 years ago:

"...the Prince rode his horse swiftly up the winding stone path toward Maleficent's dark castle perched atop the jagged peaks of the Devil's Backbone, the steed's hooves producing sharp metronomic clicks that scattered into the still night. The brave Prince Phillip slipped his hand down toward the glowing Sword of Truth and closed his fingers around its leather-wrapped handle. The cold steel grew warm to his touch, a pale blue light eking out from the edges of the scabbard..."

I used to care. I used to watch Brooklyn's reaction to every line of the story. She would pull the covers up to right under her nose when Maleficent were in a scene, beam when I described Aurora dancing with her Prince, and squirm (but also ask for me to repeat the details) when they finally smooched.

Here's what she and Braden got last night:

"...so the Prince was like, hey, how come we have this report running in UAT but no requirements were drawn up? And then the evil co-worker was like: Oh, didn't you see that e-mail - it went out to the whole kingdom?

And then the Prince went home and his Princess was all: make me some nachos - now the cheese is too bubbled, how long did you nuke these - do everything I say - is that your wet towel on the bed - I'm pregnant - hang that shelf in the laundry room."

Yeah, I can only imagine how little effort I'll put forward with #3.

It's been a while...

2010-04-21T12:01:00.008-04:00

since we last blogged. No real changes with us. Brittiny and I have divided time between our kids & Matlock reruns on Lifetime. All is well, no complaints.

Brittiny had to bribe Brooklyn to let her snap some pics. She's growing up so fast. Before I know it I'll be time to go pawnshopping for a shotgun.

Braden is now old enough to fore-go the nightly milk. Instead he and Brookers now share a pre-bedtime protein shake.

Brooklyn & her Pre-school pals made Rice Krispie treats. Little Andrew, in the green smock, always finds excuses to give Brooklyn a hug. He always finds her at church and invents excuses to get close to her. The day he breaks out some Li'l Buckaroo cologne it's gonna be curtains for the whole group Pre-school experiment.

A few months back we had a couple of big snowstorms. The kids loved playing in the snow. I couldn't get the kids to come inside, so I lied and said I saw a snow-snake. It worked to get them back in the house. Uncle Don also sprinted to the front door as well.

Bear playing with Nina. I think Nina gets frustrated with Bear's weak throwing arm. I've noticed that as the tennis ball duties have naturally been abdicated to grandchildren Nina has grown increasingly 'hippy'.

Brooklyn with gal pal Avery. Those two were like a couple of long lost teen girl squad members reunited.

Bear is growing up too fast, too. Time for another baby!

Women Be Shopping...

2009-10-30T22:15:00.017-04:00

"Honey, can you come here?" he heard faintly from beyond the monochromatic layers of overpriced and inconsequential blouses. They hung in a perfect row, flowing gently against the breeze of a nearby department store air conditioner that hummed quietly to ensure a comfortable shopping ambience. He envied the air conditioner, answering only to the predictable, rational demands of electricity and natural physical laws.

Maybe in another time, another place, he could aspire to an existence as purposeful as that of the Haier cooling unit - today he was an indentured shopper.

The voice, though soft and feminine, weighed him down. She was a woman driven by two insatiable desires: to adorn her physique and simultaneously suck the will to live from his body - the latter she accomplished one dollar at a time. He turned slowly and rose from his seat, glazed and tired eyes perceiving the faint outlines of odd, oblong shapes set at strange angles across the jumbled floor. Years ago, he thought, an architect had designed this Filene's edifice with the sole purpose of illuminating and exaggerating the beauty of its merchandise. Lights were hung at the perfect height, mirrors mounted lengthwise along every wall with a reflective marble floor offering a sharp "click, click" as the lioness prowls around in pumps hunting her prey. But his male eyes ignored the bait, impervious to the sinister, careful niche marketing. His mind flitted, instead, back to the tumbling football that glanced off the upright in the afternoon JETS game - wide left - he would have made $20. Oh well.

Plodding along, slow methodical steps navigating clumsily through the crumpled morasse of fashion and fabric, the silhouette of what appeared to be his wife came subtly into focus near an open changing room door. He blinked to clear his blurred vision, then picked his head up slightly and rested his gaze on what appeared to be her feet. He didn't have the energy to straighten his neck and look into her eyes, and he wasn't sure he could peer into them even if he must. His ears strained to listen as he mouth moved rapidly, words flying from her lips as if she were the MicroMachine guy hawking miniature cars:

"...having a hard time deciding blah blah blah... already have a shrug, you know, but it's not blah blah blah... if I were looking for something more formal, then obviously blah blah blah... can always bring it back if blah blah... just to die for blah blah blah!"

What he perceived as a brief pause in her shopping sermon was quickly followed by several moments of silence. Oh no. Small beads of sweat seeped from his forehead and pupils constricted to narrow his vision - silence was never good. He forced the kind of smile a damaged Kirk Gibson feigned for Tommy Lasorda before walking toward the on deck circle in Game 1 - a smile that masks anguish and assures the its recipient that everything is fine - then raised his head to meet her gaze.

"So?" she asked with a tone that left him unsure if the inquisition were rhetorical or desperate for an answer. Hearkening back to a particularly informative episode of the Simpsons he remembered Homer's advice that women always want compliments.

"Looks great!", he blurted, reaching out to touch her shirt. He modified his affect, forcing a semi-furtive smile, and rubbed the fabric gently between his thumb and forefinger. "Very nice, and the shirt looks really good with the pants. I can definitely see you in this." He let his hand drop back to his side, proud of himself for a moment.

Her face was expressionless, her blue eyes a little cold: "These are my clothes - I wore them into the store. You're an idiot."

"The Garden State"...

2009-09-20T22:06:00.010-04:00

may not be the way I would describe Jersey. But perhaps when early colonists settled the banks of the Passaic River all of the good names for Industrial Sepsis were taken. They did name a town Peapack, however.

Anyway, we're settled in Jersey and the wife has hopefully finished buying IKEA furniture to make our rental look like home.

Brady examines a gord at a local farmer's market. "Farmer's Market" is an old Iriquois term meaning "clever ploy to sell unwashed vegetables to yuppy's at above-market prices."

Brooklyn makes nice with a couple of pumpkins, naming them Orangy and Pumpky. Wonder if she'll cry when I slice those beasts open and cut out their guts all over the kitchen table.

Here are a few more pumpkins, unaware of the horrible end they each shall meet.

Kickin' around the Pumpkin Patch. Man, kids are a lot of work.

Brooklyn never smiles when we want her to. I'm told her behavior should improve drastically as she approaches her tween years.

Here's Bear-Bear checking on some produce. He can be pretty intense when he's exploring.

That's about it for us... Nonny & Poppa, welcome to Jersey next week!

Musings from my time as a Stay-at-Home dad...

2009-05-22T01:43:00.012-04:00

I don't know where General Mills earned his stripes, but it wasn't in the War on Childhood Obesity. Today's Lucky Charms have WAY more marshmallows than when I was a kid.

If you're a young mother with even the slightest doubt as to the paternity of your child, an appearance on Maury Povich is NOT going to make your life better. An invitation to the Maury Povich show should be accompanied by a carton of Virginia Slims and a Calvin-pissing sticker for adhesion on the busted back window of your Fiero up on cinder blocks in the front yard, patiently awaiting the installation of a new valve cover gasket your baby-daddy lifted from a pick n' pull.

The 1st law of thermodynamics does not apply to babies. An infant may consume a mere 4 oz of milk and 4 oz of rice cereal but still pump out a turd that would alarm an African elephant. Clearly, Sir Isaac Newton never changed a diaper.

If you're at home w/the kids all day they won't care what you wear, or if you choose to shower, or if you have a few large and low-hanging boogs, or whatever. But the outside world is far more judgmental, speaking specifically of the cackling gas station cashiers Chevron employs. Put down the frozen breakfast corn dogs, Gemma, and, Shawlinda, turn off the View blaring in the background so your empty heads can contemplate their own problems for a change.

Discovery Channel is 70% sharks, 20% Man vs. Wild and 10% a reminder from the scientific community to Christians: "Only Retards Believe In Creationism".

An infant should never, under any circumstance, be fed prunes. Why such parental excitement over periodic irregularity? It's better your little guy be slightly constipated, mildly plugged, than movin' it like a pastry bag of melted ice cream squeezed by the Incredible Hulk.
If you're out and about with the kids and nature calls, it might seem like a time-saver to take them into the restroom stall whilst you stand there and relieve yourself. Not a good idea, as any toddler will eventually succumb to the temptation to touch your pee stream. Apparently curiosity killed the cat and still found time to spray a toddler with urine.

The Baby Bjorn was invented by a woman, for no man would design a way to suspend a kid at the perfect height to repeatedly mule-kick him in the balls.

It's nice to be needed, even if only to rinse "puke up" from your daughter's hair at 3am while your wife pretends to sleep soundly through the mêlée. It has been said "life is what happens when you're making plans", and since I surely didn't plan to clean up a Hansel & Gretel-like barf trail between my daughter's bed, garbage can and two separate toilets, I'd have to agree.

"Hola, soy Vince con Shamwow..."

2009-03-29T22:11:00.003-04:00

ShamWow commercial in Vince's broken Spanish. A must see for the whole family: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=veauQGzEf7Y

Enjoy

When animals attack...

2009-03-20T03:38:00.085-04:00

Trolling the Net awhile back I came across an awesome site I wish I had discovered years ago. It answers all of the burning questions. Absent any "what is the meaning of life"-type quandaries, this website is left to explore really important questions, to wit:

"What if a Siberian Tiger and a Gorilla got in a fight... who would win?"
"What if a Polar Bear and a Kodiak Bear got in a fight... who would win?"
"What if a Mountain Lion and Geraldo's mustache got in a fight... who would win?"

I know, if you're a guy you've lost sleep on some of these very questions; hours you could have been watching re-runs of Small Wonder on TVLand but instead were left to the machinations of a mind occupied by unlikely animal brawls. Well, Wild Animal Fight Club attempts to end these sleepless nights. Here are a few highlights:

Gorilla vs. Tiger
"If a Silverback Gorilla were to ever be pitted against a Siberian Tiger, both animals would be cautious in making the first move. The Gorilla would try to stand as large as possible, pound its chest, and yell as loud as it could in order to try and scare off the Tiger. This plan would backfire and insight the cautious tiger into attacking. The huge cat would pounce straight for the Ape's throat. With the Gorilla caught off guard the Tiger is able to avoid the Gorilla's powerful arms and get inside. The Gorilla ferociously tries to bite at the Tiger, but its too late. The Tiger sticks its four inch canine teeth through the neck of the Gorilla and the fight is over."

One could mull over a pithier question: how could a Tiger from Siberia fight a Gorilla from Africa? Perhaps the two meet due to a freak gorilla-cage & tiger-enclosure malfunction at the San Diego Zoo. Or they are unknowingly dating the same Gazelle and she gets her days confused, fatally inviting them both over for movie-night.

Also, I love how the author predicts the Gorilla's "plan would backfire", as if the Gorilla had thought about the possibility it might one day have to fight a tiger and formulated a defense plan. Seriously, I've been to Hogle Zoo enough to know Gorilla's basically sit around and pick at their butts all day. I doubt their colons contain any "Operation Siberian Tiger" contingencies.

Lion vs. Tiger
"First of all for this fight we will use the Bengal Tiger, instead of the much larger Siberian Tiger, so we can give the poor Lion a chance. The fact is that the Lion still would have no shot. The Tiger is just a far superior animal. It is stronger and faster. It hunts bigger prey and doesn't need the help of something called a pride. Pride? The Lion should be ashamed."

The author doesn't know the difference between incite and insight, but he can differentiate prey from pray.

And conspicuously absent: A Shark riding on an Elephant's back.

Brookers wakes up to say to me this morning...

2009-03-16T11:30:00.008-04:00

"Daddy... why did Nonny and Poppa have to stay in San Diego? I wanta go ta see Nonny and Poppa wight now. I pwomise I will be weally good dis time."

We drove to San Diego this last weekend to spend time with the Gpa's. Friday night we stayed in a nasty downtown hotel:

Saturday we upgraded to the Navy Lodge on Coronado Island:

Okay, so none of the above pics is actually ours. We forgot our cameras. Oh well. It was still fun to dink around Balboa Park, driving around in circles for hours fighting with Californians for parking spots while Brooklyn yelled at Poppa: "Dere is one wight dere, Poppa! Jus' pahk the cahr wight dere!"

Brittiny was teaching her 3 year-olds at church today...

2009-03-01T21:26:00.011-05:00

and mentioned that "Heavenly Father can see us, He knows all."
Brooklyn said: "How's that, Mommy?"
"He lives in heaven and watches us from heaven."
"You mean, with his binoculars?"

Brooklyn proudly displaying her cupcakes. She took these around the neighborhood and gave them to her friends. Well, those that her dad didn't scarf.

These are the ladybug cookies that Brittiny made for Brookers' tea party. The large bug heads are actually milk duds.

Brooklyn enjoying dusk on the beach at Coronado's North Island, San Diego. Little turd refused to open her eyes for any pictures. 50 shots of her with closed eyes.

"Daddy, I have sand in my shoes. Just wait a minute."

Hanging out at a park in Temecula, CA. Brady stole his little hat from a Newsie.

Brady Bear does his version of the Robot.

Another pic of the little guy from Coronado.

"Brooklyn, what are you going to do when you grow up?"...

2009-01-29T22:33:00.016-05:00

"I am going to kick my daddy in the balls."

Geez...

Then tonight I was telling Brooklyn a bedtime story, but all of the classics escaped me: Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, The Pit and the Pendulum. So I resorted to telling her a magical tale about Super Mario Brothers & Princess Toadstool. As I described the "mean, ugly, self-loathing King Bowser" who had imprisoned the Princess, Brooklyn stopped me.

"Is it you, Daddy? Are you da Bowser?"

What a little hoser. From now on bedtime stories will be confined to readings from the Wall Street Journal.

As Christmas Day approaches...

2008-12-09T21:56:00.028-05:00

... I see more and more commercials for video games [ie, World of Warcraft, Call of Duty] and at the end of each advertisement a voiceover says: "Rated M for Mature" despite the target audience being anything but. I think the games should be: "Rated PB for Lives in Parents' Basement".

Here's a pic of our T-giving spread. The food turned out to be pretty tasty, no complaints. The nice thing about not having any friends is that we didn't have to share dinner with anyone. I guess the bad thing about no friends is having to buy your own power tools.

Let's shove something up this Turkey's butt... let's shove some wet bread up its butt...

Before snapping this picture I said, "Brooklyn, say cheese!" She pulled Brittiny's hair up into a top knot and said, "Say pineapple!"

Mom and Braden

The other night Brookers pitched a fit, got timed out for a while in her room. She showed us who's the boss, though, as she defaced her headboard.

These little bouncy seat thingies always make me think of riding my bike over to McDonald's with Kevster to buy a Big Mac.

"So, um, Dad...

2008-11-28T22:20:00.005-05:00

... did you know that there are some of birds that don't fly?"

I reply, "Really, Brooklyn, what birds would those be?" wondering if she can name any flightless fowl.

"Dead ones."

"I suppose you're right, Brookers."

Touche to the two year-old.

Buncha new pics...

2008-10-12T19:45:00.008-04:00

Braden's shoes... not sure why he has shoes.

The kids chillin'... Brady looks pretty gangsta.

...and here chomping his fingers...

Brookers glamming in a dress her Nonny made ~ she wore this number to church. The pigtails lasted all of 15mins.

"Heavenly Father...

2008-09-06T17:54:00.017-04:00

please bless the cheetos that I will be eating, 'cause they are so good, and dat I can poop and pee in da potty and not in my pants cause I am a big girl and bless Nonny and Papa that he can feel well and Nina that she can be a dog... Jesus Christ, Amen." Brooklyn's prayers are getting better.

She recently celebrated her 3rd Birthday in style - at Chuck E Cheese. Buncha pics below:

So what can I say about Chuck E Cheese birthday parties?

The Bad: pizza is so bland it needs ketchup and mayo, Chuck E Cheese looks like a hydrocephalic gerbil, your kid will catch a cold from exposure to dozens of other grimy booger-eating toddlers spreading germs, and the $35 "special Birthday Surprise" is a stale doughnut pilfered from the dumpster behind the neighboring Starbucks.

The Good: the kids all leave you alone most of the evening, someone else gets paid to clean up the mess which includes any toddler pee on the floor ["Oh my gosh I can't believe it's really Chuck E Cheese and I can't have Dad take me to the potty because I might miss him!"] and spew in the carpet ["Daddy, I fink da pizza is dross and I fink I don't feel well and I fink I'm gonna puke-up... BRRRAAAAAAPPPPP!"]

Yeah, Chuck E Cheese is pretty awesome.

"I am da mommy and you are...

2008-08-19T01:00:00.030-04:00

...da kid," Brooklyn told me this afternoon. "Okay, I'll be the kid".

Brooklyn then proceeded to speak with me only in character, meaning that she was "Mommy" married to "Hockey Prince Charming" with at least one kid: me.

I asked her, "Where is Hockey Prince Charming?"

"He is busy working, Kid."

"What does he do for work?"

"He sits right there (pointing to my brown office chair in front of my work PC) and makes e-mails all day long and talks on the phone." I thought that was pretty funny.

Anyway, Braden has grown quite a bit over the last couple of weeks, drinking lots of milk and filling his diapers with a seemingly endless supply of grey poupon.

I'm too lazy to re-import this picture right-side up, but Braden loves his bath time.

Little bit of a smile, little bit of a faux-hawk. Braden is a truly happy kid; yet unaware that life sucks, people are mostly tools and the government taxes you even after death.

A close up of our Brady-bear. So the dude looks more Albrightesque than Eppersonic, I think. Here's my take:

Eyes: Torgersen/Thomas
Mouth: Epperson
Nose: Albright
Ears: Albright/Thomas
Eyebrows: Charles Bronson

A couple of weeks ago we moved from our Yuma Foothills home onto the Marine Corps Air Station in town. We're happy with our new place and the nice community. We did the move ourselves, which was kind of nice in that we got a chance to sort of inventory our stuff.

Brittiny once told me, after she watched me help a neighbor move a washing machine out of an apartment basement: "I would so much rather have babies than life heavy furniture."

Having witnessed 2 pregnancies there is no way lifting a bunch of boxes can compare. For one, helping someone move doesn't make you irrational or gassy. Secondly, at the end of a pregnancy you have a cute little kid, instead of damaged furniture and a lot of marital tension. I did split my $9 TJ Maxx cargo's bending down to hoist a box of books.

The next morning we awoke in our new place. The fact that we were up until midnight moving boxes didn't phase Brookers-boo. She quickly made a friend, Leslyn, and marshalled a robust tea party, hosting in her Vera Wang fairy costume.

Leslyn's dad is a Gunnery Sgt with the Marines. When the girls started pouring the "tea" he blurted: PINKIES OUT, MAGGOTS!

A few days after settling into our new place we decided to try out the base pool. It's across the street and really quite nice. In the below pic Brooklyn is trying to maintain her cool despite being told she would be swimming 20 mins earlier.

Note her cute pose - she's managed to stay relevant despite her scene-stealing little brother.

Kids are stupid...

2008-06-23T02:16:00.063-04:00

...but probably only because they spend most of their time trying to act like adults. I mean, have you seen Flavor of Love? We adults are setting the bar pretty fetching low.

Today Brooklyn threw a sweet fit. She was actually upset over a timeout levied earlier in the evening but launched into a vocal and violent protest vs. Brittiny such that I had to start her on an additional timeout.

Why time her out again, you may ask? Often enough the first timeout doesn't "take" and must be repeated in both frequency and severity. It's like going to a chiropractor for "adjustments". It's not uncommon for a healthy 2 year old to require a baker's dozen of "adjustments" before lunch.

So at this point I'm pretty sorry for the kid, since she's visited the well-worn timeout corner a few times already that day. Walking her down the hall I feel like the a-hole prison Warden, Drumgoole (Donald Sutherland) from Lock Up introducing Frank Leone (Stallone) to his cell. I kneel beside her and say, "Brookers, you need 3 minutes of timeout to cool your jets and think about how mean you were to Mommy." Judging by her reaction she clearly hears Warden Drumgoole's voice sneering out: "This is hell, and I'm going to give you the guided tour!"

Anyway, so 3 or 20 minutes pass - I wasn't keeping a close eye on the time - and I go back into Brooker's room for the post-timeout routine.

"Why are you in timeout?"

"Because I was hitting Mom like this (punching the air) and kicking her."

"Thank you for telling me what you did. Now please go tell Mom you're sorry and promise her you won't hit her again."
"No. I no want to."
"Brooklyn Margo you will march right up to your Mother and tell her you're sorry for hitting her or you will stay in timeout all night long."

At this Brooklyn hops down off her bed and marches, arms gesticulating wildly in the air with each step, knees kicking high off the tile floor - she's actually marching, the same way she does to her stupid Barney video where a bunch of annoying High School the Musical rejects march and prance around and pretend to give a crap about a dog named BINGO - all the way down the hall. Mom is sitting on the couch, so Brooklyn leans in and says, quite unctuously:

"I'n sorry Mommy fo' hitting you."

"Thank you, Brooklyn. I forgive you."

Brooklyn pauses for a moment, standing in front of the couch, then turns and runs full speed back to her room crying all the way. Those present to witness the apology are left to ponder its significance: Had we witnessed tears of joy from the soul-cleansing catharsis that comes only from true repentance? Was Brooklyn contemplating the far-reaching love of a selfless mother who so easily forgave her trespass? Did the gravitas of the intricate relationship between mercy and justice just bring a two year-old to tears?

If you answered "Yes" to any of the above three hypo's you obviously don't have kids. To look into the eyes of a sly two year old, when, out of necessity she is forced to apologize, is to see a stubborn will tortured by the realization of its own weakness.

Though her lips may ask forgiveness whilst tears flow down her porcelain cheeks, her heart cries out: "You'll never break me, Drumgoole!"

Heavy is the head that wears the crown...

2008-06-18T16:09:00.021-04:00

... but Mom is quick to remind me that in the Epperson line there is no crown, no walloping great wodges of cash to bequest, no "sceptered sway". But, for the record, she spent her first 20 years as a Torgersen and cannot be trusted. ;)

At 07:28 PST on Tuesday, June 17th, Braden Brent Epperson abruptly entered LDRP room 303 at Yuma Regional Medical Center. Brittiny was a champ through her pregnancy and labor, and as I write this, is enjoying a well-deserved nap.

King Darius had Xerxes and JFK his "John-John", now I have Braden Brent.

Here's Baby Braden trying desperately to give me the finger. Who do you think he looks like?

Grammy and Brooklyn came to visit us at the hospital. Brooklyn seemed un-phased by the competition, and was ever-so-sweet to her little brother. We'll see how long that lasts.

When she was asked to hand back Braden, Brooklyn replied, "No, I am Braden's Mommy." It was a cute moment.

The official stats above. I like the stork cartoon in the lower right of the card. I asked our nurse, "If the stork delivered our baby, then what's with the big bill?" Get it?... Maybe that joke would work if the story were about a duck delivering babies instead of a stork... Oh well.

20,000 leagues in a Chrysler Town & Country...

2008-05-06T00:08:00.032-04:00

...well, so long as those leagues translate into roughly 3,400 miles. We 3 B's drove to Utah a week ago, then with Nonny & Poppa continued on to Portland Oregon for some R&R. The trip was fun and devoid of drama.

Two weeks earlier I flew to CT for work and Brittiny + Brookers spent the weekend there with me. It was fun to drive up to New Haven on the weekend to see so many friends from New Hay Hay and the Woodbridge Ward. Good times.

Now the pics...

Here Brooklyn tends to our scant Yuma garden. She prefers a spray bottle over the more traditional watering can.

We died Easter eggs this year.

Here Brooklyn finds an Easter egg on the back porch. With each egg she found she was equal parts of elation and surprise. Maybe I'm just cynical, but at some point I expected the novelty of finding plastic eggs around the house and backyard to fade. Nope.

Here are Mom and Brookers being all chic in NYC. If you can't tell from the pictures, Brittiny is about a month away from giving birth. Brooklyn insisted on keeping her new shades on all day long, even when the sun wasn't shining or we were in the car.
Brooklyn asked us every 10 minutes, "Do you like my new sunglasses? Are they beautiful?"

In NYC there is a huge Toys R Us. The place is pretty cool, with a large ferris wheel in the middle of the 6 stories of toys. The store gets old when you realize that it's just a big toy store, same as in your local mall, and your wife and daughter are both asking you for your wallet.

This is Brooklyn's reaction to the Toys R Us ferris wheel. Man, were the rest of us bored on this thing! Whoever invented the ferris wheel, I'm guessing Ferris Buehler, had quite the racket going. It's like riding an escalator, except you get off in the same place you got on - a zero sum endeavor. What crap. At least with State Fair ferris wheel's there's the excitement of wondering, "Hey, I might get injured on this thing."

Here Brooklyn swings in Central Park. She loved the newly renovated kids part in the SW corner. It was pretty cool.

Even with all the excitement the City has to offer, 2 year-olds bore easily (yawn)!

Nonny and Poppa in front of the Columbia River Gorge, just outside of Portland, OR. This view was fantastic.

Here's Brittiny and me in front of the same backdrop.

Upper Multinomah Falls, pretty darn cool. Definitely worth checking out if your in Portland.

Here we are cheesing for the camera. In front of lower Multinomah falls.

"I'n to watch da Bee Mobie, Daddy..."

2008-03-18T01:45:00.019-04:00

That's pretty much all Brooker-Boo says these days. Kudos to Jerry Seinfeld for making such a great kids show. It's way better than Finding Nemo and the characters far less objectionable.

Last week we had a nice visit from the Nonny. What is a Nonny, you might ask? She's like a nanny who works for free and bakes cookies 6 dozen at a time.

We took her to Sea World, which was pretty cool. Proud to be an American as I peeled off the Benjamins to pay for 14 dollar bags of popcorn slurpees in commemorative Shamu mugs. The mugs are made from non-biodegradable plastic, so they'll stay with you about as long as the crippling debt you incur to see a bunch of fish.

Here's Brittiny peeking out from under her rain slicker. The rain slicker is to protect her in case Shamu spews anchovies into the crowd.

Here's Shamu VII jumping out of her spacious 64 cu ft seawater tank. I'm amazed that people can train a Killer Whale to corkscrew, splash the crowd on command and dance the "Macarena", but I can't get a 2 year-old to use the freaking toilet. I bet the trainers could write a mad potty-training book.

Here Brooklyn is touching her first Sea Star -- Nonny helping her out. She said the star felt like "boogers".

Nonny, Brookers and me leaving Sea World.

After SeaWorld we stopped at the San Diego temple. It's a beautiful temple, but crawling with Mormons.

We traveled to Utah a few weeks ago for baby Hailey's blessing, staying the first night West of Ogden in Plain City. Here Brooklyn played on Granpa's swingset. Even though it was 15 degrees outside and she was sans coat, we couldn't get her off the swing. She had a great time visiting her cousins and Gpa's.

Here is Brooklyn mid-swing.

Driving back to Utah, somewhere around Mesquite, Brookers fell asleep. I asked Brittiny to put her sunglasses on her as the sun was in her eyes. Brittiny did so, then asked me if I wanted to watch, Weekend at Bernie's. Weird, I was just thinking the same thing.

Brooklyn helped me wash the cars last Saturday. She obediently rinsed the front of the car for about 3 seconds and then turned the hose on me, laughing so hard the whole time she could barely hold onto the hose. She would then attempt to coax me back within hosing range, smiling, "Daddy, come a oba here so I'n to do it washa car!" I would slowly approach the car and before I was even in range she would be smiling and laughing at the thought of soaking me with the hose. When I got close enough, she would swing the nozzle toward me and start convulsing in laughter shaking the nozzle all around, getting herself very wet in the process. Kids are so cute.

Well, that's it for now. More pics to come at a later date.

Potty Training Part Duke...

2008-02-11T23:52:00.007-05:00

or is it Deux? Well, you can't expect a man who eats at Arby's to know French anyhow.

"Pardon moi, can I have extra horsey sauce with that Arby-Q?"

Here's Brooklyn riding her Christmas present. It's a Schwinn tricycle that can support up to 115 lb's -- or Bryan Hathenbrook at age 4.

Here's Brooklyn "Cheesing" for the camera.

Another shot of her on the Tricycle. Notice the beefy tires and robust frame.

Greatest Show on Earth...

2008-01-24T12:13:00.000-05:00

I remember as a kid this recurring nightmare where Grandpa and Grandma took Amy and me to the Wringling Brothers circus at the old Salt Palace and the lions got loose and started charging up the stands and attacking people. In the dream I was left to fight off the lions with a light-up baton and noise maker, which, in my dream, worked pretty well vs. the lions.

As you can see w/the below pics of wifey's new Naval maternity uniform, "the Circus is in Town"... meaning she's now wearing a tent to work.

The big news for us is that Brooklyn is potty training. I have the week off from work, so a convenient time to get this ball rolling. I have no idea what the hell I'm doing, and neither does Brooklyn, so we're quite the dynamic duo. Brittiny has steered clear of most of the chaos as she has been at work all week.

This morning we're at the store and she suddenly calls out to me from a toy aisle: "Daddy, I need a go to a potty right now."

I reach down to pick her up and correct her: "No, Brooklyn, by the looks of your pants and sopping-wet shoes you probably don't need to "go to a potty" for at least a while now."

Then in the restroom whilst changing her pee and dukie-soaked clothes I told her:

"Now Brooklyn, you're a big girl and need to let me know when you need to go potty and no matter where we are I'll get you a potty."

"No Daddy, I jus' poop and pee in my panties and you get me new ones and wipe my bum and clean the poop."

So I say: "If you don't poop and pee in the potty then you'll have to wear diapers like a little baby forever. You're not okay with that, are you?"

Brookers replies: "Yeah, I okay with dat, Daddy. Actually, I know how a wear the diapers and be like a baby."

I guess even toddlers fear change. And that's pretty much how things have gone these last three days. I am now grateful that we sprang for the leather couches, which are easier to clean than fabric - don't ask. Kids are disgusting.

Brittiny, Brooklyn and Mindy went for a hike in the foothills around Phoenix. You can see a large Saguaro cactus in the background. These things are everywhere. They are also federally protected, like the Amish, but not opposed to electric appliances, unlike the Amish.

It's a....

2008-01-16T01:33:00.001-05:00

Boy!... The ultrasound guy was sure he saw "the parts that make the baby a boy."

The Epperson line shall survive me, pressure's off.

Brooklyn tells me the baby's name is Jake. Or Jaxen. She also informed me that her little brother cost sixteen dollars. Actually, if he's born in the hall like she was then he might be free. Here's to hoping that we make it to the hospital this time.

Brittiny and I now begin the agonizing process of choosing a baby name... open for suggestions.

You know, if someone asks you if you're ticklish, it doesn't matter what you say - they're going to touch you... I guess you could say, "I have explosive diarrhea."

So....

2008-01-11T21:06:00.000-05:00

Brittiny and I went to the OB's office today for her 18 week ultrasound. All is healthy with our little squirt, who was squirming around in there throughout the entire exam.

We found out the sex of the baby, but haven't told anyone yet. And we're not telling you yet, either. Instead, take a look at the ultrasound below and tell me what gender the arrows are indicating:

So, whaddya think?

So the last couple of days I had toast...

2008-01-06T20:53:00.000-05:00

it tasted funny - not bad, just a little off. I have been wondering what was up but thought it must be the bread. So I bought new bread. Then the next day my toast still tasted funny, so I thought it might be the jelly. I bought new jelly, but the toast still tasted funny. Then I took a closer look at my butter dish and noticed some funky green mold... and a familiar and nasty smell. Case closed.

To celebrate the New Year we drove up to Salt Lake City to see the family. As always, it was great to see the family and friends. Below are some pics:

Here is a shot of cousin Jaxen, Brent, Brookers and Sheree (aka Bunni). We all hung out at the Newgate mall. Brooklyn missed her Bunni a lot.

Here Brooklyn flares her nostrils and spins a pirate ship wheel at a local Yuman park. This park was probably the coolest park in Yuma. I realize none of you have ever been to Yuma so the comparison means nothing... but still...

Santa brought Brooklyn a sweet little tricycle for Christmas. It's pretty well-built.

The first in a few closeups of our tree. This "E" ornament we got a few years back at the Enron fire-sale. Kidding, it stands for "Epperson".

We hung stocking over the fireplace, which was pretty stupid since "Santa" brough us each a couple of loosely wrapped chocolate bars. Christmas morning was ruined for everyone: Brittiny spent an hour cleaning up chocolate from the tile grout, and I had to listen to her complain about it.

Here's Uncle Doug, chillin' with Brooklyn. He flew in from Iowa, missing the political caucuses. And from what I've heard, a caucus is even dirtier than the word implies.

Here is Brooklyn with her long lost Connecticut boyfriend, Henry Idone. It was great to hookup with the Idones for breakfast whilst in Ogden.

We took Brooklyn to her first movie, the Bee Movie. She loved it. Especially the part where we let her drink a Root Beer and eat popcorn.

Actually, it's pepsi...

2007-12-02T18:33:00.000-05:00

Brooklyn just came over to me, turned her eyes toward my open can of soda and said: "Daddy, Brooklyn can have some?"

"Sure", I replied. She quickly lifted the open can to her lips and began her little tiny toddler gulps. While she was taking a swig I asked, "Do you like daddy's soda, Brookers?"

Without removing the can from her lips, Brooklyn turned her eyes toward me and said, "Actually, it's Pepsi, Daddy."

Pretty darn cute... here are some pics...

We drove up to Utah for the Thanksgiving weekend. Here cousin Elizabeth and Brooklyn are looking particularly cute and neat, obviously before any food was served.

Here's Nonny with beautiful blue-eyed grandbaby, Annalise.

Based on the hat selection above, here are my guesses: Uncle Aaron as Freddie Krueger, Elizabeth as the Wicked Witch of the West and Brooklyn as Anne of Green Gables.

For Halloween Brooklyn dressed up as Dorothy (from the Wizard of Oz) and Brittiny was a soda shop girl. I was the Paparazzi, cause I had no costume and just took pictures all night.

He was flying high, like a paper bag caught in an updraft...

2007-10-24T01:08:00.000-04:00

I remember pretty well Dad's version of being a soccer coach, which was to repeatedly remind us players: no matter how fast, big or strong you are, there's always someone faster, bigger or stronger out there. Mom used to say: never forget that you're unique, just like everyone else.

On my way home from the gym tonight I pulled into the local grocery store to pick up a few items. I walked over to the fruits and veggies section of Fry's, ripped off a couple of plastic bags from the spindle, and mulled around the fruist display near to a couple of large grapefruits. As I made my selections I placed each item in its own individual plastic bag and set them in my cart. Just then I overheard a young couple in the aisle next to me discuss their own purchases. The husband was arguing with his wife over a couple of items she wanted to buy.

"But these sausages are like five bucks for only eight of them... what about the other pack?"
"C'mon, those are gross, way too fatty. They're on sale because nobody wants them."

At that exact moment, eavesdropping on two strangers and holding a grapefruit the size of Dave Goff's torsional nut, it hit me, the rigamarole of it all. As different as we all are, we all do the same stuff throughout our lives. It's just the way it is.

You go to the grocery store and bag a bunch of fruit, you put it in your cart, you pull it out of the cart so it can be scanned, then the checkout bagger bags that already bagged fruit and puts it back into your cart, then you take your haul home and unbag all the items and toss the bags under the kitchen sink or in the utility closet or wherever.

Question: Joe Lieberman, James Bond and MC Hammer - what do they all have in common? Answer: They have to get their trash over to the local grocery store and bag some fruit once a week. Well, my boy Hammer probably bags the fruit more often, since he works there part time, but you get the idea. You can't get around it, it's just life. 99.9% of people in this nation are doing it, the bland, tedious mundane stuff of life because they can't afford to hire a butler.

Husbands across the globe are looking at their wives and thinking: why does your haircut cost 4 times more than mine? Wives all over the world are wondering: why is my husband so cheap? Parents all worry about their kids, especially when she says something so truly bizarre that you wonder if blasting Rage while she was in utero was a bad idea. Kids all think their parents are too strict, too old-fashioned, too lame and too cheap. Newsflash to the parents: your kids are on to something.

Amy and Aaron just had a baby. Congratulations. Well guess what guys, (ir)regardless of how well you put on that diaper - stretching out the diaper tabs so they'll seal off the lower back as an escape route, cinching up the sides such that the little poo-holding pouch is perfectly placed beneath sweet Hailey's not-so-sweet butt - YOU WILL HAVE BLOWOUTS! There will be times when you'll sit there peeling off Hailey's little cotton unitard, soaked with a pungent yellow-orange coating of colon-custard, thinking: I KNOW we didn't feed here this much junk today. Yeah, you did. It is what it is, and all parents deal(t) with this crap, pun intended. Pass the wipes, please.

I suppose what I mean to say is no one is unique. We all deal with the same problems, insecurities and imperfections. Life marches on until it stops marching, meaning we die. We're all mortal. Angela Bassett may have been Waiting to Exhale but she was also waiting to die. I don't mean to be grim, but standing in the grocery store made me think of all this, for some odd reason.

The only silver bullet we have is to live well (or live strong, if you're a Lance Armstrong fan). We can minimize risks and heartache by making ourselves right by the Lord and right by ourselves, aligning our own moral compass with God's will. The cool thing is that no one can take that accomplishment away from us. What we can't avoid is the tedium and insanity of life, and even if we could, what would be the fun in that? Maybe we just have to find the right things in life to live for... jackass!... Some pics of one of my "things" below...

Another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody...

2007-10-21T02:51:00.000-04:00

Nevertheless, this Saturday was eventful - as eventful as any day can be in Yuma, I think.

First, we went to a local salon for pedicures. While Brittiny and I let our feet soak in hot water foot baths and enjoyed shiatsu massages (those are awesome) Brooklyn charmed the staff into a free manicure. She chose a light green coat with sparkles. - quite fetching.

After the salon we took Brooklyn to a ''Punkin" Patch put on by the Christian Fellowship church of Yuma. The setup was pretty sweet. They had a hay bale maze, horse rides, two inflatable trampolines for the kids and a 40 ft long pirate ship - well, a flat bed trailer made to look like a pirate ship. It's as if a late November union strike left Macy's Thanksgiving float department so hurting for scabs they hired Capt. Jack Sparrow.

Here's my Brookers running through the hay bale maze, sporting her Kurt Rambis goggles.

After Brooklyn picked out her pumpkin she got to ride a white horse. She seemed to enjoy it, but kept calling the horse a donkey. The handler said: That's better than calling her a puppy or cat, which is what most toddlers think. The horse stopped a few times to eat grass on the arduous, 95 foot stroll - so freaking lazy. Oh, and horse-shoes aren't even shoes, FYI.

So Brooklyn was jumping around in one of those big inflatable tramp-o-things when she noticed Brittiny eating a sno-cone. "Brooklyn have it?" she asked.

So at the Patch we selected three Pumpkins. Once the adoption papers cleared, we were able to take them home. Brittiny painted Brooklyn's pumpkin (very well, I might add) to look like Elmo. Brooklyn was very impressed, and reminded us about 40 times that her Pumpkin looked like Elmo.

The other two pumpkins were gutted and carved up, see below. The one on the left is Nancy Pelosi, on the right, Clint Eastwood.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

I'LL EAT YOU UP!,,,

2007-10-09T00:56:00.000-04:00

About a week ago I was reading Brooklyn her favorite Bedtime story, Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are, when she removed her binky abruptly, pointed to a particularly hairy and hunky-browed monster (inset) and said, matter-of-factly, "Daddy." Brittiny thought it appropriate that Brooklyn selected the hairiest of the Wild Things, remarking that she is a perceptive child.

I am still coming to terms with the realization that my daughter thinks I look like a half-bull, half-pig reject from the Island of Dr. Moreau. But tonight at least some of my insecurity was assuaged when, without any prompting, Brooklyn pointed to spread-toothed horned monster with the red nose of a wino and said, "Dat's Mommy." I remarked to Brittiny that our Brookers is a perceptive child. I dunno, maybe b/c that monster was hanging out with "Daddy" on every page Brooklyn got confused. But I guess if you're a hunky-browed, horned, hobbit-toed monster you've got to lower your own standards before heading out to the local bars to get your swerve on.

As not to be confused as one of the wild things making mischief of one kind (and another), here's a pic o'Brooklyn glamming it up for the camera at the be-zatch at Rocky Neck State Park, CT.

The Grouchy Ladybug....

2007-09-20T02:22:00.000-04:00

Hi to anyone checking in on our blog. Admittedly, it's been quite a while since our last post. So what's changed, well, Brittiny is 2 months into her 1st year as a GMO (general medical officer) in Yuma, AZ. Having lived through July and August in the hottest city in the country, we're anxious for cooler weather this Fall and Winter. Yesterday was actually the first day since our July arrival that the temperature did NOT reach 100 degrees - it's been hot.

Not a whole lot to say, actually, life just goes on. Here are some pics:

Brittiny and I went to Cabo San Lucas for Shauntelle (Brittiny's good friend) and Micah's wedding. This pic is from a mildly disastrous yacht excursion we took. A lady next to me got seasick (for dinner she apparently ate something containing green beans), a 3 year old kid was almost swept overboard by a crashing wave and our crew kept Bogarting the karaoke microphone to remind us all how poorly tourists typically tip in Mexico. I didn't want to make liars out of the crew, so I left a really shoddy tip myself. The guacamole was good, however, assuming you manage to keep it down.

Somehow, someone got Elizabeth and Brooklyn to share a seat at Nonny and Poppa's. Turned out to be a cute pic. We wish they could see each other more often...

Here Brooklyn shakes "Panna's" hand... er, paw. Panda is thrilled, clearly.

This pic was taken the day that Dad and I arrived in Utah after 40 hrs on the road from Connecticut. Though I missed my cute baby and hot wife during the trek, Dad and I had a great road trip: we bonded over golf, dined on garbage, stopped for a night at Uncle Doug's and searched in every freaking podunk town from New Haven to Salt Lake for health food stores where Dad could get "good trail mix" and "non-sugary green tea". When did Dad cease being Dad? Lincoln without his stovepipe hat, OJ remiss the bloody glove or Andy Rooney sans a tube of Ben-Gay... more shocking, still, is Dad without junkfood. He's come a long way since the days when, driving a hostess fruit pie wrapper-laden Mitsubishi Mighty Max, he was routinely mistaken as being "sponsored" by the company itself.

Cavorting with Brooklyn and Elizabeth. Fun stuff...

For Brooklyn's 2nd Birthday Brittiny went all out, including hiring a clown: Biggles or Buggles or whatever. For the record, I hate clowns. They scare the hell out of me. I remember when I was a kid the TV series Stephen King's IT passed a couple of nights on Channel 5. The show had this scary clown that kept killing kids for some reason, or for no reason, I can't really remember, except the clown turned into a giant spider or something... Anyway, just ask Kevin Larson, he remembers how much that show freaked us both out.

The clown Brittiny carefully hired wasn't homidical, but she did charge $150/hr. Why did I bust my hump to get through college when the real money is in being a clown? Ms. Biggles actually asked me that same question. She came inside our living room, did a 15 minute magic show (I've seen better magic at the Farley Family Reunion) and packed up her stuff to leave. I told her that since we had paid for the whole half hour she could choose: option 1) entertain the kids a while longer, or option 2) there was a sponge and a bottle of Softscrub in the guest bathroom. She chose to flip me the bird and leave, which I suppose was option 3. I hate clowns.

Oscar was a young otter...

2007-05-20T20:08:00.000-04:00

...and Brooklyn doesn't like to hear about him. Every time I try to read her Oscar the Otter, my favorite children's book, she says, "Noooooo," whilst shaking her little noggan. Brooklyn empasizes her negative replies by holding the note. From a quick "no" one can't really infer she's not cool with something, since she says no pretty much to everything. However from a long drawn-out "noooooooooo" you know she really doesn't like something. One of her little quirks.

Anyway, Brookers is in Utah. Brittiny left her there with Mom and Dad and flew home to CT. We hear that Brooklyn has really been enjoying herself on her extended stay and extra time spent with all her Gparents, Aunts/Uncles and cousins. That said, Brittiny and I are really missing her and anxious for her safe return on Wednesday. That said, we're having a really nice time w/o her, though I hate to admit it. We've been able to accomplish a lot this past week and SLEEP a decent stretch as well. It only took us about 40 mins to be ready for church, a record in the post-Brooklyn era.

Here are a bunch of pics that we've been meaning to post. Enjoy... or, if you're think we're an ugly family, don't enjoy.

Brooklyn in New Hay Hay's Wooster square. She got tired chasing around lots of squirrels. If you remember, we got no deal with the squirrels!

Brookers standing at the top of her li'l tikes slide, sporting a Sundress courtesy of the Boofay Ltd. summer collection.

Brooklyn standing in from of our Apt, looking at something. Sometimes she looks to me like a miniature teenager.

Here is Brookers and me, moments after I arrive home from work. Seriously, better than anythin in this world is her shouting "Dah-dee!" as she runs toward me with her little outstretched arms.

OOOOhhhhh, I almost forgot. My friend, Phil, introduced me to a really great newer singer/songwriter: Paolo Nutini. Definitely chk out this video of him singing my personal fav, These Streets. http://youtube.com/watch?v=swIKGLqIitI

Buncha old pics I never posted...

2007-04-04T18:29:00.000-04:00

... so check them out and feel free to leave bawdy comments at the bottom. Kellie Redman, I'm thinking specifically of you:

Brooklyn, Brittiny and our Christmas tree. Yeah, it's April, so we should probably take that tree down. But if we wait long enough it'll be closer to Christmas '07 than '06, so we can just leave it up, right?

For an Epperson family Christmas tradition we're going to build a cake...er, I mean, gingerbread house as part of an FHE activity. The above picture is the first installment of said tradition. Brooklyn loved it because she got to eat a lot of candy. How much candy, you ask? Her dukie that night smelled of peppermint.

Brooklyn will someday be a double-fisted drinker. For now, it's double-fisting the binkies...

This is the evening I got back from London/India. Brooklyn was so sweet to me, she kept yelling "DAH-DEE, DAH-DEE!!" and running around the living room.

Brooklyn in her Indian digs. She looks really cute in this outfit, kindly purchased for her by Sushila Pradhan of UBS, Hyderabad branch. Once the weather gets a little warmer, we'll dress up Brooklyn and take her to the DQ for a nice dinner.

So one Sunday afternoon after church Brooklyn and I surprised Mom by visiting her at the Hospital. Well, we took over some lunch and played around in the lobby area waiting for her to come down to eat. Brooklyn took to running in circles around the large fountain centrally located in the lobby. I ran around with her. At one point, she became a little dizzy and sort of fell backwards into the fountain. She was shocked: the water was cold! I reached into the fountain and pulled out my baby girl, soaked from head to foot and sporting a now 11 lb. diaper. Brittiny was surprised when she came downstairs to find the two of us--me in church clothes and Brooklyn working that nostalgic hospital baby blanket look. On the bright side, we eventually got this sweet Yale New Haven Hospital t-shirt from one of the Ped's nurses. Brittiny doesn't let me watch Brooklyn alone any more.

Here's a pic of Sheree and Brooklyn when they went snowmobiling. Baby car seats look really funny strapped to snowmobiles. Wait, I think they went sledding.

Brooklyn and Henry are down with Baby NCMO, and this picture is the proof.

Why does Jersey have all the toxic waste dumps and New York all the Attorneys?...

2007-03-23T00:03:00.000-04:00

Jersey got first pick...

So what's been going down? Guess not too much. Brooklyn gets a little cuter every day. She also gets a little heavier. I picked her up and tossed her toward the ceiling - she's one heavy punk. The other day as I prepped her for her bath (eg, chased her naked butt around the upstairs) I noticed that what junk she lacks in the trunk she makes up for in her baby gut. The baby gut is a strange phenomenon. It's as if the baby's midsection has hit middle-age all by itself. Any ways, here are some pics:

This is Brooklyn hanging out with Laila Haraj-Sai. Brooklyn pretty much plays all the time, hangs out with friends, lets other people bathe her, change her clothes, etc. Someone tell that freeloading kid to get a job already...

Here's a pic of me at Tower Bridge, the Thames river below. You can tell from the photo that it was raining. I was in London a total of 33 days. It rained on me 32 of those days. No kidding. It rained on me so much that I was reluctant to take a shower.

Tower of London in the background. It's a really old castle that was once home to the Royal family or the Flintstones or Hugh Grant - I wasn't really clear on what my tour guide was saying because I was still adjusting to his thick accent. I asked at the front desk if they had a tour guide who spoke AMERICAN and trust me, that didn't go over very well. Did you know the ToL's guards were called Beefeaters because in the olden days they had to taste the King's food for poison - and you thought your job sucked?!

Behind me is the State Capitol building where Charlonian's Ball is held. Every May teenagers get dressed up in tuxes and/or gowns, rent convertible mustang's from Hertz and try to get their car to roll UP gravity hill (for the non-Utard's this won't make any sense). No, seriously, it's St. Paul's, a very, very cool old cathedral.

This is the view from St. Paul's. I tried to get a picture of the Gherkin - an odd rocket-shaped bldg not far from UBS - so you could see this freaky thing, it's pretty cool.

I harp on this building b/c my first couple of days in London I was completely lost getting around. People kept giving me directions based on the Gherkin. I was too polite or embarrassed to say: Sire, just show me on the map where I have to go because I have no idea who this guy Gerkin is or where he hangs. Instead whenever someone would gesticulate wildly off in some direction, then another, then another, then another, and say "... you'll see the Gherkin on your right and Bob's your uncle", I would just nod and say, "Oh, yes, next to the Kurklemin, perfect, cheers" and walk away purposefully in the direction where the guy first pointed. It sometimes took me an hour more to get to the Gherkin which was actually so close to the UBS building that they shared a bus stop. But at least I didn't have to be man-shamed by admitting I was lost, which is bad, but as a note to any ladies out there: the only thing worse than a man having to ask for directions is having to ask for an follow-up explanation of someone's directions, no matter how confusing they were in the first place.

Oh, then after a couple of days schlepping around I figured out that the Gherkin was this building (infra) what I had walked past every day and had secretly titled: what Michael Jackson would build if he had become an architect instead of a weirdo:

Stop, collaborate and listen...

2006-12-16T21:24:00.000-05:00

I hate people who eat with chopsticks. I don't mean Asian people, I mean other people who learn to eat with chopsticks later in life because they're always going to Asian restaurants. You know who I'm talking about - the people who have that smug, self-satisfied look on their face the whole time: "I've traveled extensively throughout Asia... I'm very familiar with your ways, Master Chen... I'll just be going with the chopsticks. And let me take the liberty of ordering for our party: we'll have the mooshoo hock chin chaooooo...' I'm very sophisticated, I'm a world-traveler. I think I mentioned that earlier..."

The real question is whether there's an American restaurant in downtown Beijing where the locals get to pat themselves on the back for eating with Silverware: "Ooooohhh, I go with the fork... I'm a real world traveler..."

Anyway, the reason you're all here: pics of little Miss Brookers.

Here's Brookers in front of our tree.

Brittiny and I at the Hospital's yearly Christmas dinner at the Omni hotel in New Hay Hay. We had a good time there -- there was a dance floor, so Brooklyn ran around for three hours with the other kids. She was really tired when we finally left the party... I just noticed that I use the red-eye correction in Adobe Photoshop and it makes us look creepy.

Here are my two precious ladies. Brooklyn was a sweetheart all night, playing with all the kids and shaking her groove thang on the dance floor. Her dancing is hilarious, but already way, way better than Dad's moves. We bought Brookers this red Christmas dress for the w/end's Christmas parties... She looked really cute.

Nephews Jake, Jaxen and Gerrett. Definitely they're up to something...

Here's McKenlyn Eustachias Povey, Brooklyn's newest cousin. Okay, so I made up the Eustachias part b/c I don't know if she has a middle name and I woke up with pressure in my ears. She's looking good, though, and a LOT like her older brother, Jaxen.

Greg Giraldo is hilarious...

2006-11-26T22:30:00.000-05:00

Not a ton of new stuff going on in our lives. Have posted some Halloween pics below, along with recent shots of Brookers

Swing and a miss...

2006-10-08T21:32:00.000-04:00

Just thought I'd take a second to post a picture of the fair miss Brooklyn. This is her on an impromptu blind date - the male baby pictured is Matthew Stoneman. He met Brooklyn at a summer beach party in Milford, CT. The setup didn't go so well. Brooklyn was more interested in getting back into the cold Atlantic Ocean and Matt had just dropped a stinker in his diaper.

Based on a True Story...

2006-09-16T02:11:00.000-04:00

#1 - The great news is that Pops has his new liver. The surgery went well, but did last 12 hours, which was longer than expected. Dad is sitting in bed now 4 days removed from the transplantation. He's recovering nicely. Right now I'm just sitting here listening to him snore (imagine semi-trucks hitting their engine breaks down a steep canyon highway).

#2 - I'll post a few new pics of Brooklyn below. She had her 1st Birthday on August 22nd and was cute as can be for the trip out to Utah. But don't take my word for it, just look at the pics below. She's cute beans if you ask me. Wow, an entire year since my wife awoke me from peaceful slumber with "THE BABY'S COMING!!!" Being somewhat familiar with Wifey's "M.O.", I ought have realized that she meant bidness: Brooklyn was born in the hallway about 9 minutes later.

#3 - So what's the deal with Hollywood "reality" movies? You know what I mean, those mini-series or movies that the producer's want you to believe actually happened as portrayed. I remember when I was a kid Kevin Larson and I used to argue about this exact issue all the time. Our favorite discussion centered around Bloodsport, featuring Jean Claude Van Damme as Frank Dux, some euro-trash martial arts expert. In one fight scene Frank's American buddy gets on the receiving end of an open can of whoop-ace. I told Kevster that I thought it convenient that Dux' buddy got wailed on by the same guy that he ends up fighting in the championship. Kev insisted that this obviously was how the fights had actually gone, since at the beginning of the movie the storyline noted that the movie was "Based on a true story."

Well, this small argument that Kevster and I had years ago continued to haunt me throughout my formative years. The issue is: what duty does Hollywood owe those whose lives are affected by the simple tagline: "Based on a true story?" Was Erin Brockovich a hottie? Did Donnie Brasco help dispose of rival mafia members? Was Seabiscuit a horse, or did owner Charles Howard just tape a bunch of cats together? This troubling uncertainty drove me to pay special attention to claims of reality in the otherwise phony world. I ended up making the following diagnosis:

Based on a True Story (BOATS): These words mean that the story is completely made-up. I could sneeze out a green booger resembling the amorphous apparition from Ghostbusters ("Slimer") and amend the screenplay to be BOATS. Such stories represent the upper limit on the exercise of poetic license.

Inspired by Real Life Events (IBRLE): These productions are also not at all reliable, but they're at least better than BOATS above. Just to have an idea, the Exorcist was an IBRLE film. In this film a possessed 12 year old girl levitates, spits up green bile and then votes for Howard Dean as a write-in candidate in '04 presidential election. Very fishy. I took the liberty of calling the book's writer, William Peter Blatty, to confirm the reality of the depicted events. After a lengthy interrogation Bill admitted to me that his book was actually based on a ferocious weiner dog that had terrorized him throughout childhood. Oh, and the levitation bit was taken from a Michael Jackson concert where Bill first witnessed a perfectly executed moonwalk.

A True-Life Story (TLS): Okay, these are the most reliable. For an example, see Hotel Rwanda or Mr. Belvedere. In these shows the director makes an effort to preserve the legitimacy of the storyline. IE, the real Mr. Belvedere actually did wear sweater vests every day and speak with a mild British accent.

Okay, now pics of Baby Brooklyn... enjoy...

Stay off the sidewalks, because that's where Brooklyn is taking her new hoot ride...

Here's Brooklyn opening presents at the Epperson abode. She snuggled all her presents - especially her clothes.

Here is Brooklyn with her first Birthday cake. We had a Birthday cake in Sandy. Brooklyn mostly just ate the chocolate frosting globs off the cake...

Here's Brooklyn with her second cake. The poor girl, after two days of cake, thought that this was her new diet. Sorry Brookers...

Long time no post...

2006-07-27T22:04:00.000-04:00

Yeah, we're a bit behind the times. A lot of stuff has happened since our last post. Brittiny is a doctor. I'm a lawyer. Brooklyn is a cutie-pants. And now, here are some pics...

Here's a great pic of Popadopalous and Brookers. I don't know what they see over there, but man, it must be good!

Here's Uncle Doug enjoying some time with Elizabeth. As I sorted through my pics from Kellie's wedding I realized two things pretty quickly: one, for being able to walk pretty well Bits sure spends a lot of time being toted around. And two, Uncle Doug is a class-A baby-hog.

Here are Sosie and Hannah. I don't know what they're doing, but it appears to be feminist.

Here's the beautiful bride + a beautiful baby. Kellie, you were a beautiful bride...

Here's me planting a kiss on miss Kellie. I guess she's Mrs. Redman now, actually...

"What you gonna do with all that junk, all that junk inside your diaper?"...

2006-04-15T10:00:00.000-04:00

Yeah, nothing like a little Black Eyed Peas to get y'all going... now on to the East Coast Epperson updates:

Brittiny and li'l Brookers are flying out to Utah for 2 weeks beginning the first of May. Brittiny is excited to see the fams, nephews, neice and take a few hikes outdoors. Dad is excited b/c he'll be able to avoid 3 hrs on the road each day as he stays in a friend's Apartment in Stamford, about 500 yards from the office.
Dad, Mom and Brooklyn will fly out to Utah again for one week to see Miss Kellie tie the knot with Sir Joseph. And the question on everyone's mind: will Kellie wear a shanga (see the white clogging slip kellie wore with every outfit for two years in the mid-'80's) underneath her wedding dress?
Brooklyn is now fluent in both zrrbert and gibberish. If you don't know what zrrbert sounds like, the language is a close cousin of the sound horses make when they fart.
Brittiny starts her internship year June 12th. She's excited. She wants a better grasp on medicine. She's pumped for gradumacation.

Okay, so that's pretty much all for an update.... now the pics o'Brooklyn (How much o'Keefe is in this movie anyway...?)

Here's a picture of Brooklyn wrapped in a blanky. What (we think) makes this pic so funny is that she wouldn't look @ the camera b/c Baby Einstein was playing.

Screaming Henry is getting so cute and big. Here he and Brooklyn are enjoying a date in the living room.

Mom and Brookers enjoyed a beautiful afternoon in Central Park. Here you can see them on the Great Lawn. What's so great about it? Scott's Turfbuilder, that's what...

Brooklyn is a great multi-tasker already. She can laugh in your face while filling her diaper. In fact, I think that's why she's laughing to begin with.

Eensy weensy spider...

2006-03-17T22:27:00.000-05:00

New pics of our favorite little girl (no, not Raven Simone):

By far, the two best looking women on the planet (though one of them has binky-rash)...

Brooklyn likes to play football w/Daddy

"Hi guys... like my pigtails?"

My favority thing to do is dress brooklyn in her pink jogging suit and walk aimlessly around the mall or Target.

Now I'm Prune Tracy...

2006-02-20T22:22:00.000-05:00

Well, not a whole heckuva lot to report from Connecticut. Life chugs along whether we really pay attention or not. Brittiny is nearing the end of her research project. She has been extracting DNA/RNA from a human placental cell line and studying the effects of cigarette mutagens on a particular jean (Jordache, I think) involved in fetal development and growth.

The real news is that the Backstreet Boys are back together. I saw them perform at halftime of the Probowl in Hawaii. Man, they've never looked like bigger tools. I can't believe my sister Kellie used to be crushing on Nick Carter.

Okay, okay... so that's all faux-news. The real news -as relayed by the new pics above - is thatBrooklyn is now eating a lot of normal food. When I say "normal", I mean normal in the sense that her peas are unrecognizable as such and her jar of turkey looks like humus and smells like a fart. Oh, and when I say that our Brookers is "eating" this normal food, I use that term in the loosest sense as well. Brooklyn usually ends up wearing about 1/3 of what we slip into her agape mouth, as her excessive drool tends to act like a lubricant on her tongue -- imagine vaseline on a Crocodile Mile (c'mon, you guys remember what a Crocodile mile is?!) -- making food retention difficult. Still, she manages to actually eat some of the solids. Oh, that's another thing, these foods can't be called "solids". Let's just say the wise man did NOT build his house upon Gerber's strained squash and carrots.

Anyway, Brooklyn has newfound energy due to her dietary evolution. This has led her to become more vocal. She's also growing stronger and bigger by the day, though not as strong as our Neighbor, Screaming Henry. He could probably be described as a miniature Incredible Hulk, which I guess makes him just a normal hulk, or whatever... Tauna (Henry's mom) actually brought him over to deliver Brooklyn's Valentine's Day gift this last week. Henry brought a cute little outfit that Brookers will love. The card he wrote had something about "16 years from now, when your dad lets you date, look me up." Dad doesn't want to think about the day when the rest of the male population finds Brooklyn beautiful, too...

Brooklyn Loves Golf....

2006-01-29T19:00:00.000-05:00

So the biggest news that we have is that Brooklyn is a huge fan of the PGA Tour. This does Daddy, Grandpa and Aaron very proud. She's watching Tiger in a playoff with Joe Mary Olazabal. Right now Tiger is bellying up for a chance at a 4th Buick Championship. Oh! He yanked it left! Well, he's human.

Actually, we have some bigger news. This last week we introduced Brooklyn to rice cereal:

Brooklyn: Well, hello rice cereal. How are you today?

Rice Cereal: Oh, I'm just fine, Brookers. Are you ready to mix me with formula and eat up?

Brooklyn: Well, actually I'm considering just pushing you around with my tongue, then maybe sticking the rest of you up my nose. You down with that, Rice Cereal?

Since Brooklyn has begun eating solids her diaper bombs have gone from backyard sparkler to Bikini Atoll. Seriously, she didn't blast for a whole day then unloaded about 4 quarts into a 1/2 quart capacity diaper. When we shimmied her out of her first layer of clothes it was like pulling apart a bologna mustard sandwich. We had to throw her clothes inthe incinerator. Oh, and thanks for the warning on this one, Mom and Dad. Really, bang up job preparing the troops for battle. ;)

I'm posting some new pics of Brooklyn below. Enjoy...

Brooklyn's Nursery...

Brooklyn's Nursery... Shelf: Ikea. Picture Frames: Ikea. Crib: by Buffy, from Utah.

Brooklyn introduced to solid foods... I mean, my hoodie drawstrings.

This is Tauna and Screaming Henry. He's not much of a screamer anymore, and is a very charming baby. He kinda likes Brooklyn and allows her to play big monkey, little monkey w/his eyebrows.

Whurd...

2006-01-08T20:44:00.000-05:00

Well, we're back to CT after our week trip to Utah. The trip was nice. It was wonderful to see everyone and especially to get to see our nephews and nieces. Oh, and it was nice to see all you older people, too. Our flight out of SLC was oversold, so we got shuffled from United onto a Delta flight. The flight was direct to Hartford, which was great. Brooklyn was an angel on the flight, too. Our luggage was still on our original flight, tho, so we had to wait for our luggage. Plus I couldn't find our car in the long term lot. There are fetchin' 6 long term lots plus our car was covered in 10 inches of snow. Brittiny doesn't know this, but I spent like 20 minutes with the Shuttle guy trying to find our car. I was getting really nervous until I saw Delicate Arch peeking out from behind the snow.

Hey guys, check out my new tennies!

"No Officer, I swear... only two glasses of milk... honest."

"Okay, you got me... 3 glasses of milk, but I'm totally sober."

We're going on holiday in Utah...

2005-12-31T00:10:00.000-05:00

As you can see, Brooklyn is excited for Utah (and a little miffed about the 4:00 AM wakeup call + rampant bedhead)...

Christmas in Connecticut...

2005-12-25T15:02:00.000-05:00

Our first Christmas with Brooklyn has been nice. This morning we woke up early and got ready for church. The services were truncated and there was a nativity reading from the four gospels. We then came home and took Brookers out of her carseat -- ho ho! -- a Christmas blowout. It was a shame, really, since she was all togged out in a beautiful new dress. Such is the life of a baby. It's always an unnerving feeling when you're holding your infant and she begins filling her diaper. You always ask yourself - am I confident that these Pampers will hold?

Post-blowout, we opened the presents from under our little tree. Thanks (primarily) to Nonny's forethought we had a lot of presents and it was so nice to unwrap so many gifts. All were great presents, but the best present was the pictures of the Epperson family from home - we'll hang these in a conspicuous place in our Apt. Brooklyn digs the Baby Einstein DVD... she made a spit-beard while watching it.

Well, we have to roll out and eat a Turducken. What's a Turducken, u ask? It's a chicken stuffed with sausage stuffed up a duck's butt then stuffed up a turkey's butt. You then bake @ 420 degrees for 5 hours. Merry Christmas everyone....

Love,
Brandon, Brittiny & Brooklyn

This is a pic of Brookers in a a crochet outfit that Kirsten made. Kirsten is a classmate with Brittiny. We love this little outfit, plus it keeps Brookers warm.

Momma holding our bundle, still wrapped in this little outfit.

What a cutie...

We all have bad hair days.... unfortunately, some are caught on camera.

Deck the Halls with Lead-Based paint...

2005-12-17T22:30:00.000-05:00

'Tis the season to be jolly - I'm told "jolly" is spanish for cranky and bloated, which is what happens to people this time of year. All kidding aside, once school is over Brittiny and I will be better at making the Christmas season a jolly one. We celebrated by having the Idones over for pizza. They're Screaming Henry's parents. He and Brookers are the same age, but Henry is way stronger and crankier. Brooklyn is such a chick - dainty and sweet. Henry is strong like an ox (well, a baby ox).

Ok, now I tell y'all how I 'tarded out. I bought Brittiny a new camera as a Christmas present and e-mailed my mom bragging "I got Brittiny this diggity-dank camera..." So Mom e-mailed me a lenthgy reply touching upon various subjects - this e-mail posed new questions regarding Christmas plans. I wisely forwarded this mail to Brittiny in order to not have to draft a new mail posing my mom's questions for her. I received a phone call from Brittiny 5 minutes later: "You are so retarded and now I know that you got me a camera for Christmas." Yeah, sometimes I'm a tool like that. Sometimes I'm a tool in other ways, too... I pretty much like to spread it around.

Obligatory Brooklyn Pictures.... this is our little Angel in her Blessing Day Dress. These pictures were taken in early November. Brooklyn still fits into this dress alright. Heck, we may even dress her up in it again to take more pictures. She's so freaking cute!

Breast pumps and burp cloths...

2005-11-18T20:42:00.000-05:00

It's been a busy couple of weeks for us. Brittiny is finishing her month rotation of hospice care (note to self: exercise and don't eat sugar) in Branford and I am getting ready for another set of final exams/papers (note to self: don't go to law school). Brooklyn is taking all of this in stride. She's enjoying these last three weeks spent with Grandma Sheree and will be sad to see her go.

Brooklyn has begun vocalizing a lot more these past few weeks. She's also become a proficient "spit-bearder". On Sunday mornings we take Brooklyn to the park where the old retirement castle guys play chess -- Brooklyn is by far the finest spit-bearder there.

Okay, so here's a bunch of pictures for all y'alls....

In my mind I'm going to Brooklyn...

2005-10-29T09:50:00.000-04:00

So for the past dos semanas le Buff Meister has been out here in Connecticut to nanny (or would that be nonny?) our beautiful Brooklyn. From her first day here she's had Brooklyn smiling, cooing and gurgling with laughter. Something about Gma's that just does the trick. As for the Epperson clan @ home in Utah, we keep hearing the same thing from the Girls: "Mommy, come home." Perhaps they have grown weary of the french toast, salmon and steak exclusive menu. Brittiny and I have now adjusted to plates of hot brownies (half w/nuts, half w/out), carrot loafs, rice pudding, cinnamon rolls, shredded beef in gravy over mashed potatoes, etc. Needless to say, we're sad to see momilage leave. But since we couldn't extend Mom's contract, Sheree will begin her tour of duty the day after Mom returns to Utah. Brooklyn is feeling like a baby V.I.P.

Here are some recent pics of Brooklyn - maybe all y'alls will get off my back now?

Baby Brooklyn sporting the white cap Aunt Holly knitted for her. I think that the onesie makes her look like a piece of fruit-striped gum:

The first day we left Mom alone with our hot baby, she did her hair up like Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday. I googled Ms. Hepburn, and let me say that she appears a lot older than Brooklyn. Oh, she is also deceased. Thanks, Mom, for comparing our baby to a famous old, dead woman. (I did read a court case in my Fed Tax class about the estate tax problems presented by the intestate succession of Hepburn's mansion in Westport, CT - 423 F.3d 235.)

Brooklyn sleeping after a busy evening of filling her diaper.

Brooklyn striking a boudoir pose. Speaking of boudoir, hey Dad, i found a great site for your Halloween cotume: http://www.theboudoironline.com/whatsnew.htm

Nonny loves her Brookers - they even dress the same.

Weekly Parenting E-mails...

2005-10-16T21:28:00.000-04:00

So courtesy of the Yale New Haven Hospital we receive these monthly updates on what we're doing wrong as parents. Here's the most recent edition's Q & A:

Q: “Our baby cries a lot, unless she is being held. She is 10 weeks old. Why does she cry so often, and what can my Husband and I do?”

A: While it can seem as if your baby is crying for no apparent reason, determining the cause of your baby’s distress can help you figure out how to soothe her. At 10 weeks your baby's eyesight has probably sharpened just enough that she can recognize both you and your husband: this is the apparent root of her constant crying. Your baby is crying incessantly because she has probably never seen something so objectionable as the two of you. She may also have figured out that you're her parents. This no doubt added to her infantile despair. Do your kid a favor: find her a good therapist now.

Q: "Our baby has very smelly poopies. Is this a cause for concern?"

A: Are you being freaking serious? Your child just bombed in her pants and you're asking me if it's okay that it doesn't smell good? What the fetch did you expect it to smell like? How 'bout you do an experiment: blast a dukie in some adult diapers, then take a big ol' wiff... surprised that it doesn't smell like White Diamonds?... Okay, well maybe it does smell like White Diamonds, but the point is that baby diapers smell awful.

Okay, that's about all... first Pic is of Brooklyn and me. This is how we spend the first few hours of every Saturday - these are my favorite times.. Eventually she wakes up, realizes that I don't lactate and then cries for Mommy.

This next Pic is Brittiny and Brooklyn using the Baby Bjorn (Brooklyn is the one in the Bjorn). This thing is awesome. Brittiny can haul our cute bug around anywhere from the park to Park Avenue as Brooklyn loves the ride.

Brooklyn's reaction to one of my lame jokes. I think the look on her face aptly expresses her embarrassment:

More pics to come...

Is there life after a Baby?...

2005-10-01T17:05:00.000-04:00

Short answer: "Yes, but it now revolves around the baby." But she's so cute and cuddly that I can't even remember what I used to do before we had her. Oh, that's right... those cobweb covered, rusty Mizunos in the corner of our bedroom.. well, at least I wasn't that good to begin with.

This past week the Albright clan was visiting us in our wee shanty. We had a great time with Mark, Sheree, Tiffiny, Gerrett, Jason, Jake, Brooke, Kayle and Jaxen. We didn't have enough couch/air mattress space, so the adults all had to sleep standing up - (thankfully for those involved, being raised in the LDS church sort of pre-conditions you for such odd somnolence). We think everyone had a good time and enjoyed getting to know the East coast.

On Wednesday morning it was so sad for us to have an empty house again (sniff, sniff). It was especially sad to not see the smiling faces of Jaxen, Gerrett and Jake as I entered the kitchen door after work that night. Thanks for the good times, nephews! I'll pour a Mtn Dew out on the curb for y'all...

And now the pics:

Mystic Seaport/Aquarium with Brooklyn (in the Bjorn) and Jake Albright waving to the camera.

Grandma Sheree fussing Brooklyn in her beautiful blessing dress. Seriously, this thing had more lace than a gay tea party.... which would have a lot of lace around because of the excessive doilies:

Grandpa Mark holding Brooklyn and no doubt telling her a joke she's probably too young to be listening to ;o)

Brooklyn, Brittiny and me a couple of minutes before the blessing. Brooklyn was wonderful the whole time @ church, and especially during the blessing. I got more than a little choked up holding this little angel in my arms to tell her all that was in my heart at that moment. There just aren't enough occasions this memorable or this sweet in our short mortal sojourn...

Aunt Brooke holding li'l Brooklyn @ Mystic Pizza in Mystic, CT. This place was made famous by the movie filmed there with Julie Roberts. I think it was Erin Brockovich, or Goodfellas... I really can't remember:

Brooklyn as "The Thinker"...

2005-09-16T22:53:00.000-04:00

"What makes my Thinker think is that he thinks not only with the brain, with his knitted brow, his destended nostrils, and compressed lips, but with every muscle of his arms, back, and legs, with his clenched fist and gripping toes" - AUGUSTE RODIN

"What makes my Brooklyn think is that she thinks not only with her baby brain, with her furrowed brow, her flared nostrils as she adroitly fills her bulging diaper, and rooting lips, but with every fat roll of her neck, 3 AM feeding, and diaper blowout, with her clenched fist and smiling blue eyes" - BRITTINY EPPERSON

Here is Baby Brooklyn enjoying a nice sit in her boppy

Our little bug sleeping al fresco, or is it al dente?... (note her well defined baby biceps - we took her with us to the gym today)

Country Music bites...

2005-09-03T17:57:00.000-04:00

So the wife and I are at something of an impasse: Brittiny wants li'l Brooklyn to listen to country music while I would prefer she be exposed solely to good music, ie, Jack Johnson or O.A.R. On the one hand perhaps Brooklyn should get a taste of what the whiny Bible Belt has to offer in order that she recognize and appreciate truly good music. On the other, the Child Protective Services will probably have sufficient legal standing in any court to take our child from us if we expose her to more than 30 mins of hick music in any given day. There's always this delicate balance when raising a child between exposing them to something that can stunt their self-actualization (ie, Country Music) and sheltering them from what the world has to offer to the point that they are unable to cope with daily life (see Ricky Schroeder).

Anyway, to bolster my point that Country Music (or Western Whine, as some like to call it) is depressing, sappy and chock full of trite lyrics, let's examine a popular Country song, Austin, by Blake Shelton:

She left without leaving a number
Said she needed to clear her mind
He figured she'd gone back to Austin
She talked about it all the time
The chick left without leaving her number because you're a lose-bag, Blake. She probably got fed up with you because @ 37 years of age you still think it's cool to jump into your '85 Dodge Aires wagon through the opened driver side window (ala Dukes of Hazzard) and insist that every single sentence out of your mouth be prefaced with, "I tell you what..." Or maybe one day as she sat at home watching Jerry Springer reruns and gnawing on pork rinds she realized there are plenty of eligible bachelors in the greater Waco area, thus no reason for her to be saddled with a toolbag such as yourself.

It was almost a year before she called him up
Three rings and an answering machine is what she got:
Nice, Mr. Shelton, I really like the way you rhymed "up" with "got". That's brilliant. Seriously, I hope you're proud of yourself for finding some random 7 year old kid and cajoling him into attempting a rhyme out of those crap lyrics.

If you're callin' 'bout the car I sold it
If this is Tuesday night I'm bowling
Rhyming "sold it" with "bowling"? Whatever you're paying that 7 year old kid - it's too much. Next time make sure you don't pick someone from the remedial class to do your lyrical work, okay?

If you got somethin' to sell, you're wastin' your time
I ain't buyin'
Actually, this line would more properly be "I ain't buying because I'm still in debt from the lift kit I put on my Bronco II. That plus Copenhagen just went up 75 cents."

If it's anybody else, wait for the tone
You know what to do
And PS, if this is Austin, I still love you
I could go on an on with this song... it's horrible. But Wifey reminds me that "not all Country Music is garbage". So let's take a look at a few selected hits from the Country Music Billboard top 25:

#5 - Do You Want Fries With That?: by Tim McGraw - No thanks, Tim, I'll pass. But that's a handy phrase to teach your faithful fans as they will spend the majority of their adult years bouncing from one fine fast food employer to the next. Maybe a followup album could include the songs My First Trailer Park and I Financed Your Cubic Zirconia Down at the Pawn Shop.
#6 - Alcohol: Brad Paisley - I remember Mr. Gentry (my 10th grade English teacher) telling me that all good writers must stick to what they know. George F. Will writes about politics rather than whether Brittany Spears is "frumpy" as a pregnant woman. Well, Country Music singer Brad Paisley has followed this axiom and chose to write about getting liquored up - touche.
#12 - Redneck Yacht Club: Craig Morgan - Well, the premise of this song is pretty much a farse. Rednecks on yachts? The title should be Rednecks on pontoon boats or swampers. In the Redneck vernacular a yacht is something you should be engaged in doing - ie, "Yacht could wear these to your job interview, Brandine."
#16 - Hicktown: Jason Aldean - his song rhymes "Bronco" with "truck pull"... but the best lines have to be: "Well you can see the neighbors butt crack nailing on his shingles; And his woman's smokin Pall Mall's watchin' Laura Ingles". Wow, that is some talented butt crack to be up there roofing - I wish my butt crack could do that. These lyrics add credence to the unofficial Yankee custom of deducting IQ points immediately upon hearing a Southern accent.

Anyway, I hope not to offend anyone who fancies the Southern twang, rather, I hope to help them help themselves. Remember, friends don't let friends listen to Billy Ray Cyrus.

And now the obligatory shots o' Baby Brooklyn...

Baby got back...

2005-09-02T23:12:00.000-04:00

Brooklyn is now 12 days old and getting more chubba every day. Apparently most newborns lose weight at first and don't regain their birth weight until about 2 weeks. Brooklyn had already gained 4 oz. @ her one week Dr.'s appointment, prompting her Pediatrician to say "She's obviously taken very well to breastfeeding."

Brittiny and I are adjusting to life w/our too cute and cuddly baby- as you can tell from some of the pics, we've had some help. Thank you's to Mark, Sheree, Brent and Buffy for helping us welcome Brooklyn into the family. Brittiny and I certainly didn't do anything to deserve such a wonderful daughter, but no complaints. We're learning little lessons daily about what she likes and dislikes - she lets us know either way. For now we're just happy to be spending time together w/our new addition.

"No Sleep 'til Brooklyn..."

2005-08-30T22:40:00.000-04:00

Brittiny and I are pleased to announce the arrival of our beautiful daughter, Brooklyn Margo Epperson. Brittiny was scheduled for an induction at 8:00am Monday morning. However, Brooklyn surprised Mom & Dad (and all of the OB/GYN staff at the Yale New Haven Hospital) by arriving @ 5:59am Monday morning, born @ the top stair landing of their Maltby Gardens apartment. ;)

Brittiny was amazing throughout the entire pregnancy and certainly did not disappoint with her surprise delivery to a couple of scared Paramedics in the apartment hallway. She even helped them out with suggestive comments such as "AREN'T YOU SUPPOSED TO BE SUPPORTING MY PERINEUM?!". Thankfully the delivery went well and now both Mom and baby are home, in excellent shape and enjoying each other's company. Already it's impossible for us to imagine life w/o our beautiful little girl!

With the arrival of our little angel has come the understanding that our lives are to change dramatically and forever. Brittiny is coping with the sorest of nips. I'm coping with the realization that in the not-too-distant future Brooklyn will start dating. I'll postpone thoughts that this precious little creature will someday be a surly teenager, pleading with her mom to buy her some pair of jeans that cost more than my first car. For now she is beautiful, perfect, and ever so welcome in our home. We love you Baby Brooklyn and welcome to the family! - sorry we're not better-looking ;)

Bathing, Diapering and Dressing...

2005-08-20T18:48:00.000-04:00

So here Brittiny and I sit here on the couch timing her contractions (45 secs) and watching a video on caring for a newborn child. Yeah, seeing that Brittiny might now be actually going in to labor we thought it was time to end the procrastination and watch the "Newborn Child" video courtesy of Yale New Haven hospital. Here are some of the highlights from the video that was filmed circa 1972...

Chapter 1: Your baby's appearance... your baby will obviously be a baby, so there will really no way that you'll confuse her with, say, your bookshelf or an air conditioner. (I'm not even sure what purpose this chapter of the video served).

Chapter 2: Breastfeeding... okay, so this isn't as simple as one might suspect. A nursing mother can't just unleash a breast and expect her baby to navigate her own way to milky satisfaction. There's a lot of technique involved. As with a solid, repeatable golf swing, sound mechanics go a long way with breastfeeding. There are even breastfeeding coaches, or 'Lactation Consultants', that specialize in breast maintenance for maximum milk production. Also, after a baby has drunk her fill, you have to whack her on the back until she yaks all over you... man, this baby thing is sounding better every minute.

Chapter 3: Sleeping... about all I got out of this segment is that newborns never sleep. All of the parents in the video looked like hell. Don't drive around in your car to put your kid to sleep. If you baby is very fussy, anxious and difficult to comfort, you should either read her some Garrison Keillor or give her a cigarette, as both tend to soothe frazzled nerves.

Chapter 4: Baths... you should wash your baby with water and baby soap. Be sure to wash in between all of the folds of your baby's chubby bod. You should next rub alcohol around the umbilical cord area (Heineken works best). Rinse, dry and immediately dress your baby in a clean, pressed shirt.

Chapter 5: Diapering... most babies are unable to use a toilet for at least a few months. The solution to this messy problem is apparently to make your baby wear a "diaper". For those of you who have never seen one, their design is similar to a feedbag that you strap to a horse, but trust me, that's not hay in there! Seriously, though, the baby's 1st BM looks like tar, called meconium. My buddy Tim told me that he spent a whole box of wet wipes on Avery's first poopie. He later used this self-same poopie to patch some holes in his fishing boat.

Chapter 6: Crib Safety... every baby should be able to go home and chill in her crib. There should be no pillows in the crib. Also no posers should be allowed near the crib, thus maintaining the crib's chill nature.

Well, that's about all the Yale New Haven educational video had to offer, but it was perfect for expectant mothers/fathers like Brittiny and me. Although Brittiny is a 4th yr medical student, she is clueless when it comes to Motherhood. Fair enough, since she s never been a mother. Anyhow, we are both so excited to welcome Baby Brooklyn into the world!

The Final Days

2005-08-18T21:49:00.000-04:00

So here I am, just about 2 weeks "overdue". Doctors should not tell pregnant women that they are "due". We live in a fast-food, instant coffee, 1-hr photo world where we can anticipate everything that happens in life. When it comes to pregnancy it's just not anything you can schedule, and thus, the due date means nothing. A "due timeframe" would make more sense. I get phone calls all day long, peeps wondering why I never called them with the big news. News flash for all of you: no baby = no phone call, so enough already! Baby Brooklyn will just come when she comes.

On Monday my mom and I went to my appt with the OB/Gyn. She did an ultrasound and we got a really good look @ Brooklyn. Brandon says that looking at an ultrasound is just like checking on brownies by peering through the glass front of an oven, you can't really tell if they're done. If only we could stick a toothpick in her. Brooklyn's face was all smashed up against my uterus. If I were her, there's no way I would keep on keeping on in there - I'd come right out. The most unsettling news of the ultrasound is that our baby will unfortunately have ugly feet. Our biggest concern since we conceived was that Brooklyn have cute feet. It now appears that she has my high arch and Brandon's nappy Hobbit toes. This is a bad, bad combination, but we'll just be sure to keep her in socks in mixed company.

Not a whole lot else going on in our household. I've finished decorating Brooklyn's room with the help of my mom who's been out here for the past few weeks. We bought a lot of stuff that has really made our second bedroom cute and cozy for the baby. Brandon points out to me as I spend money that she won't notice any of this stuff, but I pretend I can't hear him.

That's all folks! With the next post hopefully we'll have our baby!

(To the right you can see Brandon testing out our Baby Bjorn)

"I want my baby back, baby back, baby back..."

2005-07-09T20:20:00.000-04:00

So in a period of about 17 hours my sweet wife asked twice to hit up Chili's for some baby back ribs. I didn't even think she liked Chili's, but we went there yesterday and again today. Can you say 'cravings?' Brittiny has not really had any other cravings. She eats healthy stuff for the most part. But lately she's been in this weird rib craze. Personally, I'm not a fan of MSG laden BBQ, but my wife can't seem to get enough of it. I hope that MSG is not teratogenic (that's a fancy medical word for harmful to the fetus).

We had an ultrasound on Friday. The ultrasound went well, except for the sticky gel that the Tech lathered all over Brittiny's clothes. Seriously, I didn't see the point of smearing that stuff on every inch of her shirt, unless of course you were trying for some kind of wet t-shirt ultrasound thingy... But everything went really well. Brooklyn currently packs a walloping 5.3 lbs. That's pretty good. On the ultrasound we could see the fat rolls on her neck. Brittiny and I had been really concerned that Brittiny's tummy hadn't gotten big enough. Actually, we weren't concerned until her appointment a week ago where the OB measured her tummy and said "Hmmmm, I think that you should be bigger." Brittiny was dismayed because, to her, she looked like she ate an airplane flotation raft and then pulled the ripcord. To say the least, we're both relieved.

There was some cause for concern with the ultrasound, however. Brooklyn is obviously a very hot baby. All the other guy babies are sure to be "Who is that hot baby? How bout like you come on over and chill at my crib?" Jared Olson (see JaredandHolly.blogspot.com) can surely attest to the dangers of having a hot chick baby. I'm simply not prepared for this.

Oh, we also noticed on the ultrasound that Brooklyn has Brittiny's high-arched feed, and my hobbit-toes. This is a tremendously bad combination. Brittiny had said while looking at our bare feet at the beach last week, "There's no chance in hell she's getting attractive feet." Yesterday's ultrasound confirmed our fears.

Everyone give a shout out to the Buffmeister who had a birthday today. Yes, she received her "Happy Birthday Mr. President" phone call, all the way from CT.

That's all for us this week...

the Eppersons

Coming soon...

2005-06-30T13:27:00.000-04:00

So Brittiny and I are about to put together a Blog. We figured this would be the easiest way to update all y'all on the goings on of our little family.

We have a long weekend coming up, so hopefully we'll get some postings on the way. Brittiny's belly gets a little bigger every day, and Brooklyn appears to be training in there for some pre-natal gymnastics meet or something. A typical evening goes like this for us:

Enter Brandon, home from school. He walks up the Maltby Gardens apt. stairs and greets his wife in the kitchen.

Brandon: Hi babe (kiss). How's Brooklyn been today?

Brittiny: Gosh, she's moving around a TON today. I don't know what she's doing in there.

So that's pretty much it for us. Will update soon.

Out like parachute pants,
Brandon