MaDnEsS!

Alex keeps walking around yelling, "You're driving me crazy!"

Wonder where he's heard that all day.

It's funny how I wanted to be one of those cute moms that never didn't like my kids (how's that for a double negative?)...or at least didn't let them know. Then I realized there aren't those moms, only pre-moms who have no idea what's coming.

Sorry Mom, but it had to be done!

I know, I know, I'm going to be in trouble. I know my parents have this dream of indirectly raising head-banging, drug-dealing, foul-mouthing, ear-piercing, leather-wearing, electric guitar-playing, rock star grandchildren, but I couldn't do it any longer. Yes, I'll admit, Alex's hair was cute (in an ugly sort of way) and did attract lots of attention from the creepy people at the grocery store, but it was a horrible mess each and every day. I have this problem with not wanting to do my kids' hair if we're not doing anything but sitting home all day. What's the point? So I'd get the same disgusted look from Tanner every day as he walked through the door to see our trailer trash children running toward him. The days we actually had somewhere to go, it was an enormous fight to get Alex to sit still while we doused his hair with buckets of water in order to saturate everything underneath. This kid has some thick, coarse, wiry hair that is almost impossible to do anything with. When he'd wake up, it would be an all-out mess (refer to the "before" picture below). As my dad would say, "It looks like you combed your hair with a firecracker!" Bathing was another struggle because it took about 36 cupfuls to get any soap out, and he is a complete SPAZ when it comes to getting water dumped on his head. Well, I couldn't handle it anymore, so it looks like I've failed and will now be raising clean-cut, wholesome, LDS missionaries instead.

*Before*

*After*

(I still think he looks kinda cute!)

He's absolutely convinced that he has black or brown hair. Mom has black hair. Nana Suz has white hair (blonde). Alex, Ella, and Daddy have black hair, until I tell him it isn't that dark, then he says brown. When I tell him it's red or orange, he acts like I'm crazy. I guess it probably doesn't really look red or orange to a kid, though. At least today he admitted it was pink. I think we're making progress.

On another note, the other day he scraped his finger (no blood) and yelled, "I broke myself!!"

GO AGGIES!

It's sad/funny/ironic that we always try to show off cute pictures of our kids smiling and looking at the camera (or at least in the same general direction) and not closing their eyes or putting their hands in their mouth, nose, ears, pants, air, or on each other, and standing so we can see what their clothes look like and so there isn't a huge gap between them and not messing up their hair or pulling any weirdo faces, but, really, in the other 50 pictures we took, we're frustrated and yelling and wondering why even try to take pictures in the first place. Hmmm, Go Aggies!