Thirty- something speaks
Kids are rut busters
Mike Maddock

I lead a simple man's life. I roll out of bed, exercise occasionally, take the kids to school, and go to work. After that, I come home, play with the kids, eat, watch a little television and go to bed. My life is uncomplicated, and I like it that way. I survive on routine. Most people worry about getting in a rut. I worry more about the thing that could disrupt my rut. The problem is that something usually does, especially when that rut is at the mercy of three children.

My offspring present the biggest threat to my routine. They can't help it, they're children. While they thrive on routines like bedtime rituals that include a bath and a little reading from Dr. Seuss, they seem to have an instinctual need to make sure their parents' lives are pure anarchy.

Kids are rut busters. If ever someone feels the need to complain his or her life is in a rut, then that person should go out and get one of those kid things, and he or she will never complain again.

My kids are starting to get a little older so the chaos isn't quite as prevalent as it once was, but it still rears its little head on occasion. The other day I managed to wake up early and hop on my exercise torture device known as an elliptical machine. I exercise early because the odds of the rut busters showing up are pretty minimal. I'm not a big fan of exercising before the sun comes up, but if I don't do it early then my odds of running into a rut buster increase significantly, as do the odds that my torture device will end up like Dorothy's friend the Tin Man - rusty and immovable.

So there I am pumping away on this thing at 5:40 am when a little rut buster appears like a fairy out of nowhere.

"Daddy, I threw up beside my bed," my youngest daughter said in the pitiful way only a sick child who should be sound asleep can.

I have to admit my first thought was not about my poor sick kid but about myself. Hopefully, some veteran parents of small children out there can relate, but I was thinking about what I was going to have to clean up…not my kid. I mean she had spaghetti the night before. That can be kind of squirrelly looking on a plate fresh out of a pan. I wasn't looking forward to seeing it on the bedroom floor after it had time to swirl around in my daughter's stomach a few hours.

I was thinking I'd gotten up early for nothing. Had I been asleep in the bed, she probably would have woken her mother up instead of seeking me out. I am confident the thoughtful and loving woman I married would not have wanted me to miss out on the fun and probably would have elbowed me in the ribs to make sure I got a piece of the clean- up action anyway. She says that those types of clean-ups fall under the daddy realm.

Routine is my life, and unfortunately my life is anything but routine. I'm not circling the globe seeking out adventures, but every day is an adventure with kids. I go from pumping iron to pumping carpet cleaner more often than I'd like to admit.

So my rut is routinely interrupted, but maybe that's a good thing. I just hope the rut busters won't be having spaghetti again anytime soon.