Sometimes I feel like if I have to hear anybody cry one more time--one wail, one sob, even one half-hearted sniffle--I am going to just lose it. I'm surrounded by little people who cry just as easily and as frequently and as gosh-darn loudly as they laugh. They cry over a lost shoe, a refusal to share, a dropped cup. Sometimes they literally cry over spilt milk.

And every time there's a cry, my radar goes off--what's wrong? Who needs me? Who's hurt? Frequently, after listening for a moment, I decide that it's just a sibling spat, some momentary frustration that I choose not to intervene in, and I manually turn my mental sensors back down to low. And sure enough, it ends as quickly as it started, and all is well. But then five minutes later, there's a wail, a shriek, a cry again, and until I've determined what's going on, everything flashes back up to red-alert status whether I want it to or not.

It's exhausting.

At times I want to throw them all in the dungeon just for the offense of daring to cry in my presence. I want to put big "No Crying Allowed" signs all over the house and plug my ears and hum to myself whenever I hear anything even coming close to a cry.

And then it's the end of the day and the washing machine leaks and I get mad and what do you think I do? Do I take my own good advice that I've been dishing out all day? Do I take a deep breath and put myself in control of my emotions, instead of letting my emotions control me?

No. I cry.