The Treadmill Phenomenon

Today is a SNOW DAY. The kids are ecstatic (and ecstatically fighting) and it's still snowing. Hard.

If you're a parent, you are aware of the Telephone Phenomenon. And for those without children: It's when you get on the telephone and everyone in the house all of a sudden needs something.

I had forgotten, until today, that this attention-hoarding behavior also applies to the treadmill.

Today's Treadmill Phenomenon movie: Child#2 (Screech) thumps down the stairs from her room and across the floor above my head. She thumps down the basement stairs and begins to scream, "Mom! Mom!" While she is in the process of telling me her room is flooded, Child#3 (Dozer) thumps across my head in hot pursuit. He doesn't even wait until he's downstairs before he's screaming, "I did not! I did not!"

At about this time, two smaller elfin children clop down the stairs carrying between them what is left of an air rocket launcher. (J--- and L---. These two children are neighbors. They are very small and quiet compared to my screaming heathens. They are welcome here at anytime, mainly because they give me hope of a quieter, calmer, saner universe.) There is a long clear tube with a round accordion type bellows that is supposed to be stepped on in order to push air through the tube and into the rocket launching pad which is a flat plastic platform with a hollow, rigid plastic tube that points straight up into the air. A styrofoam rocket sits on top of this and can be launched into the air about 50 feet if a child jumps onto the accordion. Or at least it would launch if the dog hadn't eaten the rocket last week.

I am just now feeling nice and warm and moving easily. I'm watching the little stick man on the treadmill display run around the imaginary track at an amazing speed (alright, amazing might be stretching the truth a little bit). Over top of two screaming, arguing children I hear an elephant coming down the stairs and the house shakes (I'm not kidding about the house shaking). Child#1 (Grunt) stumble/thump/bang/wallop/whacks his way into the basement in the teenage sprawling way he has of taking over the entire house and comes to stand behind the four younger children. His hands are shoved in his pockets and he looks bored. (How the hell can you look bored when the decibel level is enough to break eardrums and the small people are jumping around like a herd of kangaroos?)

"Mom, can I go over to S---'s house?" Grunt asks. He can't be serious, can he? Dozer now has hold of the rocket launcher by the hose and begins to whip it around. The children scatter and Grunt ducks. Screech moves in closer to shove a wet monkey (evidence) in Grunt's face and he pushes her back. She stumbles and falls against J--- and L--- and tumbles these two small children like bowling pins. More screeching ensues.

I push the red 'Stop' button.

I calmly inform everyone that I am in the middle of my workout and they cannot -must not- interrupt me.

"Go clean it up," I say to the girls.

"Leave that here," I say to the rocket launcher.

"What are you going to do at S---'s?" I ask Grunt who towers above the younger children and parts them like the Red Sea as they scuttle back towards the stairs.

"Sled," is the one word answer. It sounds rather like a 'grunt.'

I push the green button and begin to walk, slowly moving back up to speed.

"Wait until I'm done and we'll talk about it," I answer. He grunts in reply and shuffles away.

*** Okay- here's the reality: 1. I might not have been quite as calm as this account makes me appear to be and 2. the last time Grunt went sledding over at S---'s house (February 2007), he broke his arm.

Really, I was not calm at all. At all. I yelled something like, "Why is it that as soon as I get on the treadmill everyone needs something?" And I yelled the "Go clean it up" line, too. "Leave that here" was somewhat quieter, but they were already scuttling by that time.

"Wait until I'm done..." was spoken in a quiet, calm voice. And he didn't argue (write that on the calendar).

Last year, in February, Grunt asked me to take him over to S---'s to go sledding. He and all his friends are HUGE. Nearly full-grown, but they still play like a rolling, tumbling pack of puppies. In other words: They are Dangerous. So, I agreed to drive him over there, but I requested that he find his wrist protectors to wear underneath his gloves. I believe his response was something like, "That's stupid. Nobody has to wear wrist protection for sledding. That's stupid. What? Do you think I'm gonna break my arm? That's stupid. I'm not gonna break my arm. What? I could slip and fall just walking out the back door. Do you think I should wear them all the time? That's stupid."

Note the abundance of, "That's stupid." The previous winter he'd gone snowboarding in Colorado and broke his arm on his first run. He was not wearing wrist protection.

So, last winter, I agreed to let him go if he had his wrist protection on. Assuring me that it was very stupid, I dropped him off and came back home (it's about two miles over there). Ten minutes (yes, just ten minutes) after I got back, the phone rang. It was Grunt telling me that he hurt his arm and it was bad enough that I should come and get him.

How stupid am I?