It hurts to be beautiful

Lawren hates to have her hair done. She has more hair than any of my other kids have at this age, so naturally I have to comb it every once in awhile. Mom says that I deserve it because when I was little I always cried whenever she touched my head. When she was done she would always say, "it hurts to be beautiful"....and I HATED it. I haven't had much opportunity to say it to Lyndi because she usually doesn't say anything if I am hurting her. Lawren, on the other hand, I have said it to several times...except I don't think that she can hear me because she is SCREAMING bloody murder. The other day she was helping me make bread. As you can see she was very helpful. By the time I was done kneading the dough she was covered with a thin layer of flour. I was too lazy to give her a bath so I just tried to brush it all off of her. Later when she was jumping on the tramp with the other kids the rest of it all bounced off -but not the stuff in her hair. I had to run an errand later and tried to brush her hair out before we left to get the dried clumps of flour out....bloody murder. I am surprised the neighbors didn't call the cops on me. Perhaps they were too busy cooking meth in their basements (that is a whole other story). Today I discovered that when I give her my cell phone while I am doing her hair she doesn't scream as loud, so if any of you get a phone call with jibberish and intermittant screaming on the other end it is just my attempt to distract Lawren while I do her hair.