Crying...and crying...

I remember when I was just getting used to having three children.  This was when I had three children under the age of five.  It's called 'extreme parenting'.  At least it seemed like it at the time; now having three children seems great and perfectly manageable.  In fact, I'd recommend it highly.  But when a newborn is involved plus two other small ones, it's definitely a challenge.  I had come to accept that, at any given time, one of us would be crying.  As long as it wasn't me, I figured we were doing okay. 

One moment stands out above the others, though.  I had just pulled the van into the driveway, and Ryan started crying because he didn't want to get out of his car seat.  (Although earlier he had started crying because he didn't want to get IN the car seat.  When he was smaller we called him 'Cryin' Ryan' but that's another post.)  Anyway, so Ryan was crying very loudly.  Then Ella started crying, out of solidarity with her brother I suppose because I couldn't see any other reason.  I was taking a deep breath while putting Ella into the front baby carrier, and thinking, 'Okay, well, two out of three children are crying but look at me, I am handling it very well.'  Then Colin shut his hand in the door of the van.  And he began shrieking, and I mean shrieking.  And instead of shocking his siblings into silence it just made them cry louder, so now I had all three children screaming and I didn't know what to do!  I considered crying myself but quickly rejected that idea, although it was tempting.  Ella still wasn't buckled into her carrier and of course the van doors had locked automatically and I had already zipped the keys in my backpack.  I finally got the keys out and unlocked the door, and luckily Colin's hand was completely fine.  However, the whole episode took years off my life, I tell you.  I still haven't fully relaxed!