Daddy Things

I was walking over to Eli who was playing with his toy cars. I heard the "ppfffffthhhttt," followed closely by a familiar odor.

"Eli, did you pass gas?" I asked.

"Mo (no), baby." He responded.

"Eli, the baby is upstairs in bed, are you sure it was the baby?" I pursued.

"Mo, Mama." He quickly replied.

"So, you are telling me that the sound I heard, and the smell I am smelling is from your mom who is upstairs?"

"Wah (yes)."

Wow Bridget that is some powerful gas. Eli sold you out.

Blogging

I am realatively new to the Blogging Universe and already have noticed a few things.

1. Blogging is awesome. I now have the ability to keep in touch with thousands of people without actually having to talk to them. I now know where all of my cousins, siblings, friends from highschool, Bridget's friends from highschool, and aunts are. Keeping up is SO Easy! I almost feel as if I am eavesdropping or peeping into the lives of all these people! And they don't care!

2. Blogging is awesome. I can now say anything I want, and feel that it must be important because IT IS NOW ON THE INTERNET! I am a PUBLISHED author... (in my own mind!)

3. Blog comments are like Emails that you don't have to respond to!

4. Blog comments really make everyone's day. I have noticed that we are much happiner when Bridget's blog entries recieve multiple comments. It is as if others agree with the assesment: our kids are the cutest.

5. It has been my observation that if an entry is made, people feel obligated to comment if no one else has. When two people have already commented, you no longer feel obligated to. Unless the entry is really good, or one feels very strongly about it, people rarely comment beyond 4-5 comments. (Unless you are Aunt Jane or Carla.)

6. Aunt Jane at neighborjanepayne.blogspot.com has more posts and gets more comments than anyone!

Healthcare

This is not a funny entry, nor is it really worth reading but just some thoughts I had.

First of all, my information today comes from things I have heard on NPR, read in Emergency Medicine articles, and have learned from working in the ER/med school.

NPR locally had a discussion where they said that for every pack of cigarettes one person smokes it costs the state $28. If we want to shave on health care, banning cigarettes, not taxing, seems like a good start.

My "health care costs" class in Medical school quoted the number that "40% of health care costs go to administration, not patient care." This means paperwork, insurance administrators, etc.. This same class taught that 90% of the money spent on health care is in the last year of life.

EPMonthly did a really nice breakdown and said that only 1-2% of cost is in the Emergency room.

I am not sure where I read the statistic that 5% of health care costs go to Trial lawyers/lawsuits.

So my overly simplified thought on saving money in health care is the following:
1. Outlaw smoking/charge WAY higher health insurance premiums.
2. Get rid of med malpractice, and get rid of bad doctors.
3. Implement fee for service, simplify reimbursement to shave money off of the administrative costs.
4. The last year of life is very expensive. Most of it is intensive care. Have the discussion: Quality vs Length of life.
5. Institute a co-pay for anyone, insured or not, medicare/medicaid or not, to disincentives the convenient ER visit. I had a lady ask me how long the wait was in the er, when I told her it was an hour, she said "Oh, then I will just go to my doctor for my medication refill."
Anyway, The last thought I had was this: We are too fat, too unhealthy. We need to be in better shape, lose weight, exercise more, and stop smoking. If we are concerned about the health care crisis we need people to start taking care of themselves. Perhaps instead of taxing the 46 million uninsured. We should tax everyone, then if you exercise, lose weight, don't smoke, you get a tax break...

enough rambling. have a good day

Mine

We have been teaching Eli how to talk. He has known lots of words for some time but has not quite gotten the grasp of how to communicate other than by pointing and crying. But over the last week he has made leaps and bounds, even coming up with his own descriptions of things. For example we were walking by a white pickup and Eli pointed and said, "Dada truck." I was pretty proud my boy could recognize the difference between Ford and a Chevy. What a smart (or lucky) kid!

Well, his new word is 'Mine'. He has gone around the house and pointed at various objects and appropriately named their owners. He knows my sandals, Bridget's shoes, Carla's flip flops, Emma's socks, and Dora's booties. What a smart kid!

He has also learned that if he wants to ask for something he says, "mine ppp-eassse." And for his effort at trying to communicate he usually gets what he wants, be it ice cream, french fries, toy airplanes, or the golf ball on the green outside our hotel room. If he asks politely, (instead of screaming like my recent entry) he usually gets what he wants. What a smart kid!

Today, he took it to a new level and has started naming items and claiming them as his own. Recent Eli acquisitions: my sandwich, Dora's ball toy, Bridget's chap stick, my Ipod, ER season 1, and almost a beach ball at the gift shop.
Eli wanted a ball and carried it up the stairs of the gift shop.
"Mine ppp-ease?" he asked.
"Not this time Eli, you will have to play with your ball at the hotel," was our answer.
He became more insistant.
"MINE PPP-EASSE," he reiterated more loudly.
"Eli, be good please, you can't have that ball today."
"Wah" (yes), he replied.
Then, in what I thought was victory for our side, Eli smiled like he understood. We went back to shopping, looking at alligator teeth and what-not.
When we got just out of arms reach, he said "wah." Then faster than I could react, he ran over to the balcony and threw the ball over the edge.
My heart stopped as we watched the ball go over the edge. That little TWIT!
It landed on a pile of glass dishes and mugs.
Miraculously, nothing broke.
I looked at Eli. He looked back with grin that said "Mine" That little stink knew just what he was doing! And that he could have cost us a thousand times more than the price of a beach ball!

What a smart Kid!

Adventures in Sports

So Bridget is awesome. She got me Karate lessons for Christmas last year.

Now, I love Jackie Chan movies. I loved Mr. Miyagi from the karate kid (though have not watched it in 2 decades). I love watching snippets of Bruce Lee, if there is an action or martial arts film my eyes are glued. And now that I am 32, I am feeling that I need to get my body in shape if I am ever going to be able to defend the defenseless or be sent on special missions to free some form of helpless captive. And, if I am ever going to be ready, I need to start now, so karate seems to be a logical first step.

While in class listening to my sensai I had the following thoughts, which I have decided to share with you.

I love karate, I'm learning how and where to punch to hurt someone without hurting myself. I am also learning the basics of form, how to kick and be more flexible.

One of our exercises is to grab some one's clothes then lift my leg in between us and kick them. Imagine if you can: I am 6'3" and have a femur length of about 2 feet. My arms at full extension are 2'3" from shoulder to closed fist. I can't even touch my toes without help or bending my knees, and even then it hurts. So it is impossible for me to place my foot on some one's chest, while holding their shirt, without dislocating my own hip or knee. So, when I get in my first fight, I guess I am just going to ask my opponent to hold still while I work my foot up to his chest.

Envisioning the ridiculousness of going into a fight and asking my opponent to hold still so I can kick them, I also realize that I have never even been in a fight (siblings don't count), I have never hit anyone under pressure. Somehow I have made it this far, I am probably going to be OK: my tactic of turning tail and running away seems to be working well.

These revelations and visions happen while I am dressed in my Gi, surrounded in the dojo by a bunch of black belts my age and 13 year-olds that seem way more advanced than the white belt we share.

Which brings me to my final thought: I also look around at the 13 year old next to me who could probably kick my butt, literally and figuratively, and realize maybe a 32 year old in Karate isn't as cool as I thought it would be.

Maybe if I learn how to use nun chucks?

ELI

For all the grief he gives us, he is actually a smart kid.

We have been trying to teach him how to talk. He can communicate, mainly by pointing and screaming till we give him anything we figure he was pointing at. (Last night I offered him a can of freeze dried mushrooms, as far as I could tell it was the only thing on the counter. After explaining that they were "yuck, yuck" he said "wah" which means yes. He the proceeded to stack his dinner plate on top of it to make it closer to his face... weird.)

Last night, I was doing some work on the computer (looking at motorcycles) and he was in the other room watching Wallace and Grommit. I noticed that there was no noise and figured he had somehow hit the mute button. When I went in to assess the situation this is what I found:

Eli was standing on top of a toy, taking a disk out of the DVD player and trying to put a new one in!! HE IS BARELY TWO! When I jumped in to help him and asked what he wanted to watch before bed time he pinched his nose (skunk) then said "roar" and then sunk his head to his shoulders (turtle). He wanted to watch the movie with a skunk, turtle, and bear. Hmmmm... either baby Einstein or OVER THE HEDGE. I asked him and he said "wah"(yes)...

So as I am loading the new DVD into the player, I noticed that it was empty.

"Eli, where is the other DVD?"

"eehh da" (there) he says, pointing.

"Where" I asked.

Proud as peaches he walks over and points to the VCR with a smile and says "eehh Da." Then proudly climbs on the couch and excitedly kicks his feet.

I would never have found that disk again! I mean who looks in a VCR player for a DVD?

This is a sad commentary on how frequently we change DVDs for that kid. DON'T JUDGE ME till you have listened to him cry.

Terrorist Demands

So Eli has found my weakness.

Now to be clear, I have many weaknesses: peanutbutter, jackie chan movies, paintball, and of course rice crispie treats. If I get any of those items, I will do about anything I am asked (don't tell Bridget.)

I am trying to be a good dad and teach my kids to be polite, play nice, eat healthy, and bath semi regularly. Eli however has found one of my new weaknesses. He can get whatever he wants. He has learned that if he hits the right octave in right decibel, I turn to putty and cave.

He has me hostage, and I give into his terrorism.

When he screams, he gets what he wants. It typically goes something like this:

ME: Eli, dont eat mama's Plant

ELI: AARRCCCHHHAAAAAAAEEERRRCCCHHH

ME: ok go ahead, I guess it is more fiber.

----

ME: Eli, Please get off the kitchen table, it isn't safe.

ELI: AAAARRCCEEHHHEEEACCCCHHHRRREE WHHAAAA

ME: I guess the table can support your weight

--------

ME: Eli, please stop eating that toothpaste

ELI: MMMMEEEEEE AAAAARRR CCCHHHEEEAAAA

ME: at least your breath will smell good.

----------

ME: Do you want some breakfast

ELI: wah (yes)

ME: do you want nummy nummy eggs and toast like dada?

ELI: Ma (either no or more, I am not sure, definately not a yes)

ME: Here is your Bottle, here are your eggs.

ELI: ADDFSEVAAAACCCRRRRRCCCCCCHHHHEEEAAAA NNNNAAAA NA NA NA NA, MA MA MA MA

(as far as I can tell he wants aunt emma or mama or anyone but dada to come feed him breakfast)

ME: I am gonna go take two excedrin and get your mom.

---------------

I do not have the personal restraint to not cave in and I need help: I have already gone through more excedrin, motrin, and tylenol than my liver or kidneys can handle.

At least he takes good pictures

Married Life

So I lived single for a lot longer than I should have. I say this because of an experience I had recently. And since you have nothing else to do besides read this blog (and I have nothing else to do but write it) it will be told shortly.

Before getting married my opinion on shaving cream and aftershave was pretty simple: unneccessary. I use a razor and would lather up with my shaving cream,bar soap, and after shaving I give a spritz of my aftershave, cold water (and toilet paper as needed).

Well, Just before getting married I had purchased a bag of razors... the kind you get at the dollar store 50 razors for 99cents, you know the kind, they have the yellow handle and single blade. As far as I knew it performed its function. The soap lathered, the razor cut hair, the cold water calmed my aching skin. Life was great.

When that bag of razors ran out, Bridget bought me a Gillet Mach 3 with vibrating head and shaving cream. HOLY COW that was a nice razor (my shaving costs now went up SUBSTANTIALLY but the toilet paper dabbing costs went down so it might be a wash). My face never felt better, or smoother.

I had been using crap razors for 8 years! It felt like shaving with a cheese grator! IN one day my face no longer hurt.

Now when the razor gets dull, like today. Bridget is right there to make me change it.

Clearly the superior gender.

Balding

So, in college I had a roommate that was the nicest guy in the world. You could not have a better roommate or friend than this guy.

He had, however, one flaw: he shed a lot of hair. It found its way into everything... bathroom sinks, floors, the tile, drains, everywhere... It drove me nuts. He never cleaned it up! Seemed like I was always vacuuming and declogging drains.

Then I moved into my own apartment without any roommates and had the same problem. How was Ryan's hair getting into my new place?

Daddy things

So this story goes along the lines of grossness. Do not read if you have a problem with poo.

We recently traveled out to Grants Pass Oregon for a job interview. It was scheduled to be 8 hours of travel and ended up being closer to 20 (not an exaggeration). Well, when you travel with kids, you pack for the unexpected... extra clothes for blow outs/vomit, extra formula for hunger issues, extra wipes, extra toys etc.

I packed Eli's emergency pack which had 6 diapers, usually enough for a full days travels. He had a lot to drink that day and the day had gone longer than we anticipated, doing the math I calculated that we had one hour till we would be with our suitcase and reinforcements. I changed him into his last diaper. Within 6 minuted he pooped in it.

At this point you have three choices:

1. let him sit in it for an hour

2. take it off and let him run around without a diaper

3... clean the poop out and reuse the diaper and hope it is more solid than liquid... also hoping no one checks the trashcan or upsets the diaperwipe-full-of-fresh-poo.

As an MD and not afraid of a little (or lot as it turned out) poo, I chose option 3. And as I finished triumphantly preserving our last diaper, Bridget then informed me that we had one more diaper in her bag.

Clearly the superior gender.

xymd

When I was in Med School, I wrote for our school newspaper. When I say 'wrote for', I really mean 'wrote': I was the editor, publisher, reporter, columnist, intern, and advertiser. It was my way of a release and a part of my responsibility as "class secretary" (an elected office).

Bridget and I decided it might be fun to start my own blog, more as stress release than anything else. Here you will find my latest ELI STORY, RESTAURANT REVIEW, ACTIVITY, and WEIRD DREAM... and some other stuff you probably won't want to waste your time with.

Anyway...

It is titled after my qualifications for dating Bridget. As her mother had raised her, her future spouse needed to have two distinguishing features: genetically XY, and educationally MD. I met both of those criteria and we have been happily married ever since.

Enjoy my ramblings... or not.