Showing posts with label #Funny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #Funny. Show all posts

Apr 25, 2014

10 Things I Wanted to Tweet: Part 2

1
If you aren't willing to OBEY it, it doesn't do much good to PRAY it.

2
Why walk when you've got Daddy? #RidinInStyle

3
There are very few things Sour Patch Kids can't heal

4
"Your life follows your words. What you say and listen to matters." @vickiyohe @tocmc #DiamondsConference

5
Real men send flowers #realman #ImGrateful

6
This girl. #ImGrateful @saraeshields

7
I double dog pound dare you to listen to #Happy and not dance. @pharrell #YouCantDoIt #ClapAlong

8
Most of us are already educated far beyond our level of obedience. We just need to DO what we already KNOW. @stevenfurtick #CrashTheChatterbox

9
He's hungry #ThatsAWholeChicken #happyplate @HavenHouston

10
I feel like there was a better way to do this...

Apr 23, 2014

10 Things I Wanted to Tweet: Part 1

So I gave up social media for Lent, and I have to say...it was hard. But it was also life changing. That sounds crazy to say, but it was. I won't be the same after this 40+ days without the endless stream of information we've come to think we need. I learned a lot. I learned the things we all do when we unplug from the noise and see what's really important. I realized who and what is most important to me. But I also had a few revelations that surprised me. One was that social media has really great, redeeming qualities. There are friends and family I love who don't live nearby and our schedules rarely allow us to connect face-to-face. I missed those people deeply. I missed seeing their kids do silly things and all the other stuff we post day-to-day that allows us to have a window into each other's lives. And I missed sharing those things. And CLEARLY, you missed me. Right? (Smile and nod.)

I know that for over a month you have been sitting sadly in front of your screen wishing you knew what I was doing that day. I know you couldn't sleep wondering what crazy thing Brynna said or I did in response to something crazy Brynna said.

Alas! Take heart, dear ones. I took notes!

Things I wanted to tweet:

1
Me: aren't you supposed to be cleaning up? BG: I got distracted looking at how pretty I am #AtLeastShesHonest #GottaWorkOnHumility

2
Silly Sock Day (I have no other words)

3
Kids should come with earplugs #Seriously #NotKidding

4
Fake lips are always funny

5
Everything you say must be true. But everything true doesn't need to be said. #TrueThat

6
What you permit, you promote. #WhatAreYouPermitting?

7
Yep, this is church. Yep, it's Texan Day. #IDontEvenKnowWhatThatMeans #OnlyInTexas

8
I've worn cowboy boots more in a month in Houston than...well...ever.

9
"OUTCOME is God's responsibility. OBEDIENCE is mine." @craiggroeschel

10
Me: Uncle Parker and Brittney are engaged. They are going to get married. BG: Quick. Take a picture of me like this and send it to them. #excitedface

Apr 1, 2014

Dressing Room Decorum

I explained yesterday that before we went to the ballet last month, I let Brynna get a new dress. While I did tell you the steps of choosing the dress (Try on dress. Twirl. Repeat.), I really gave you the abridged version. The cliff notes, if you will. There's so much more that goes into proper dressing room decorum.

Normally, if we are in a dressing room it's because I'm trying something on, not Brynna. In this instance, the protocol is different. In the event that she's "visiting" the dressing room, Brynna firmly believes it exists as a staging area for her performances. While I try on clothes, she tries on my clothes. Don't get me started on how many times I've been ready to go but couldn't because a three-year old was dancing on the alteration platform, claiming my shirt was a princess dress. The alteration platform. That's what most of us call it. You know...it's the place where you step up and allow a seamstress to mark the dress or pants to be properly altered. Brynna refers to this as The Stage. (In her defense, it's elevated, there are mirrors and usually a pair or two of high heels laying around...?) Many a performance has taken place on The Stage - with or without an audience. In the event that an audience is not present, the show has been known to go on the road. A few weeks ago, I came out to ask the salesperson her opinion and found Brynna doing twirls, kicks and grand jetes for all the girls working at Nordstrom. When she did stop, she turned, grabbed her heels and told me she was going to change for her next show.

Sidenote: I know you think I make this stuff up. I promise I do not.

But the day before the ballet we weren't in a dressing room for me. We were in the children's department. So this time, I put on a show on the alterations platform, and I strutted around Dillard's in Brynna's shoes. No. No, I didn't. What I did was manage the crazy. As I said yesterday, the entire focus of our shopping experience was to find maximum twirl capability. If the dress wasn't flowy on the hanger, it didn't make the cut. We covered what's necessary to find the twirl rating of each dress (Try on. Twirl. Repeat.). What we didn't get to was what you do in between dresses. See, there are a few moments after I get one dress over her head and the next on. There are precious seconds that it takes me to get one dress back on the hanger and another one off. These are the moments where decorum is necessary. This is the free time begging to be filled.

There are your standard choices for how to fill time in a dressing room:
Make faces at yourself in the mirror
Pose and smile at yourself in the mirror
Compliment yourself while talking to yourself in the mirror
Dance in front of the mirror
Curtsy to yourself in the mirror

But if you're an overachiever, there are other activities totally normal and acceptable in a dressing room:
Teach yourself to do a back walkover
Twirl naked "to see what it looks like under your dress"
Talk to the dresses
Calisthenics - jumping jacks, sit ups, running in place
Handstands
Close your eyes and dramatically act out scenes from an imaginary movie playing in your head

Two important notes:
If you aren't sweating, you're doing it wrong
If your hair isn't falling down, you're doing it wrong

I must caution you. While Brynna did all of these in the span of an hour, I would take it slowly. She's a professional.

Mar 31, 2014

Sunday at the ballet

My in-laws are the hardest people to buy gifts for. They have everything. Literally. Maybe even two. So last year for Christmas we came to the same point on the list we come to every year.
"What are we going to get your parents?"
"I don't know."
It's a good thing he's cute because that's not helpful AT ALL.

As we discussed what they like, the thing we kept coming back to was Brynna. She is their only grandchild, and we lived on the other side of the country for most of her life up to this point. So we decided to give the gift of time with her. We started looking for things we could all do together. David found info that the Houston Ballet was doing a production of Aladdin. Uh...dancing and a princess? Brynna is hooked. If she's happy, Pops and Honey K are happy. Done and done.
The man gets stuff done! All is forgiven.

So a few weeks ago we all 5 went to the ballet. A few days before "the big day" I took Brynna to the mall and let her get a new "fancy" dress (her favorite kind). This was a multi-faceted move. Allow me to explain:
1) Fancy dress means you can't do cartwheels
2) To wear a fancy dress, you must be on your best behavior
3) Being allowed to wear said fancy dress is an EXCELLENT bargaining tool if consequences are needed for compliance
4) Fancy dress means I shouldn't see your panties. Ever. (I know we covered cartwheels, but thoroughness is necessary)

I'll spare you the details of how many dresses we had to try on to find "just the right one" but I will tell you how to go about finding the right one (in the event you are in need of a fancy dress in the near future).
Step 1: Try on a dress.
Step 2: Twirl.
Step 3: Repeat as many times as necessary until maximum twirling height is attained.

The day of the ballet, she twirled to the car, twirled in to church and twirled back out. She twirled at the restaurant and twirled for a man in the elevator of the theatre parking garage. But when the curtain went up, the twirling ceased and my little person who can't sit still the length of a Berenstain Bears book sat enthralled. For two and a half hours, she watched some of the most intricate choreography and story-telling I've ever seen. At the end of the day she even got to meet some of the dancers.

I know what you're thinking. You're remembering that I started this post about a gift for my in-laws and you're right. That was the intent. But as they do, kids have a way of turning anything into more of an event than you planned. We went to spend the afternoon together. We went to see a performance by phenomenal dancers of award-winning choreography. We got that but what we will all remember is the way Brynna's face lit up every time she twirled. We still talk about how she danced and curtsied through each intermission and had dance teachers applauding her in the hall. We remember how she sat so still and took in story elements I assumed were over her head. We laugh at how Brynna stole the show from some of the greatest talent we've ever seen.


 




Mar 27, 2014

Confessions

I don't want to watch Barbie. Like, ever. Like, you know?

It's easier to go along with Brynna's belief that she is "the real Elsa" than it is to explain that Frozen is a movie, and animated and even Elsa is not "the real" Elsa.

I'm seriously considering leaving all the laundry that needs to be folded because my mom's coming this evening, and moms like laundry, right? Wait...I'm a mom...that logic might be faulty.

Most annoying thing about yesterday (and the day before that and the day before that):
"Mommy. Mommy? Mommy. Mommy... Mommy... Mommy?"

I drank 3 Dr. Peppers yesterday. Even I know that's not okay. And when the dentist asks today I already plan, hours in advance, to lie straight through my sugar-coated teeth.

I don't want to wait 2 hours to finish the last half of Criminal Minds.


But I will. I will wait because it's not something Brynna needs to see, even in passing. It's not the language she needs to hear or the pictures she needs in her mind. Because what she needs is more important than what's convenient or comfortable.

And that's why I'll answer every time I hear "Mommy. Mommy? Mommy..."

And why I'll watch another Barbie movie. Like, maybe today.

Mar 17, 2014

Rain, Rain, Go...Oh Forget It

I am a planner. I'm very logistical. You know that mom who always seem to be calm? She stands on the playground watching her 18-month old roll in the sandbox and smiles at how cute he is. (Meanwhile I'm about to hyperventilate calculating how long it's going to take her to get sand out of her car, the clothes and anything else he breathes near.) You know her. Maybe you are her.

I'm not that mom.

That doesn't mean I'm not up for being carefree and fun. I love that, too. That's why I call myself an "organized free-spirit." Both of those things usually operate side-by-side in harmony in my head. Keyword: usuallyUsually I am one or the other. Usually I am working OR playing. I am writing OR dominating at Candy Land. I am in impromptu mode OR strategic mode. Usually I switch pretty seamlessly from one to the other.

But then it rains.
And all hell breaks lose.

So let me go back...
Brynna went to her grandparents' house for spring break last week, and I was in Dallas Monday-Thursday working on some writing projects. When I returned, I spent all day Friday cramming a weeks' worth of "stuff" into 8 hours. You know...birthday stuff. Party favors, cookies, food, where will things go, what all the kids will do. Stuff. This would have been a walk in the park if it had been any other year. Every other year Brynna's birthday has been inside - at home or a gymnastics gym. This year, though, I had to get tricky and have a bounce house. Outside.

While doing all that running Friday, I checked the weather app on my phone approximately 1,796 times. And do you know what that app had the nerve to tell me? Rain. Every time I checked.

When it started sprinkling Saturday morning, David assured me the showers were isolated and this was probably the end. (God bless him for trying. I'm sure he could see the panic visibly manifesting on my face.) A mom called to see if we were still planning on the party, and I calmly joked and said, "the bounce house is here. It may just be a water slide!" We laughed, ha ha! and she hung up. (All an act. I should win an Academy Award. Cue me silently freaking out in my head.)

When the rain started about 10 minutes before party time, my mom and Janay went in to "control the crazy" mode. (The crazy being me. Praise God for family who know you best and love you still.) My mom said it was no biggie, we would just bring the food in to the kitchen. Janay said there was plenty we could do with the kids inside, so I gathered up a stack of puzzles. As people started arriving, Janay took umbrellas while I greeted people. A couple of boys arrived first, so they went out to play hockey with Brynna and her dad in the garage. As more people arrived, they headed to the garage, too. I thought it had to be getting crowded and wondered what they could all be doing out there.

I walked outside to find a garage full of adults laughing at a bounce house full of soaking wet kids. Did you know that water pools at the end of a bounce house slide? Did you know if you slide down into the puddle, you make a "really cool splash"? Me neither. But I do now.

Those kids jumped for hours. And those parents were the sweetest things ever. After a couple of hours and lots of sugar, they carried their little soaked people to the car, smiling as the kids talked about how fun the water slide was. Not one of them complained. Even the family headed to another party simply asked where the nearest kids' store was to go buy a change of clothes for their deliriously happy 4 year old.

The rain was not my plan. At all. I would much rather report that it was a fun, sunny day and I took lots of pictures of happy faces. Instead, I spent the day laughing with parents about how much fun the kids were having playing in the rain. I dried off little feet and cheered for the on-going hockey game in the back half of the garage. In what has become Brynna's tradition, I handed out cookies and watched them all blow out their candles. (She loves to blow out candles, so in her mind, it stands to reason her friends do to. Makes perfect sense to me.)

The rain wasn't my plan. I didn't have time to mentally prepare myself for "impromptu" mode but I guess that's kind of the point. (literally...that's the definition of impromptu)

I only have 3 pictures from Brynna's 5th birthday party. But I have memories that can't be replaced. And I had the happiest little girl on the block as she bounced and played with her friends in the rain. And while I still don't like being outside in the rain, I'll never forget the day I said "oh, forget it."



The only thing more fun than bouncing in the rain is frosting on your face!

Feb 11, 2014

What I Learned At Dinner

One of the first friends I made in Houston was Mallory. I tell people she was God's special way of giving me a hug. See, Mallory isn't married. Mallory doesn't have kids. I don't hang out with her because our kids are in the same class. I don't have to make small talk because we don't really have much in common. I hang out with her because she's fun, and we usually talk so long one of us is late for wherever we're going. When I moved to a new place yet again and needed a friend to just be silly with, God gave me Mallory.

There's one minor hiccup in our friendship. Mallory is 25. Well, 26 now. She had a birthday this week, and Friday night 8 of her friends and I went out to dinner to celebrate her. If you are over the age of 33, when was the last time you hung out with 25 year old girls? Let me tell you this: You are missing out. You're missing out on knowing the newest online shops for cute jewelry and how to do a smoky eye and a dozen other life lessons you long forgot. Here's my list. Here's what I learned from one evening with nine 20-something girls...

1. I'm not 20-something
2. When the bridesmaid dress is coral and the wedding colors are spring but it's a more formal evening wedding, you should do a smokey eye with shades of brown. (Please note: I have never done a "smokey eye" nor would I know how to do it regardless of the shades you provide me.)
3. I am SO glad I don't have to date. Like, more glad than I can put it into words.
4. My phone can do about 176,000 things I don't know about or understand
5. My fingers don't move that fast. These girls go from website to photo to send a text to check an email to respond to Facebook...my brain about exploded just looking over Alexa's shoulder. I'm pretty sure there was smoke coming off the screen.
6. I can't keep up. With any of it.
7. I'm fairly certain I don't want to keep up.
9. The sorority pose is exhausting! You know the one...the girls in front bend forward so their butts are out and their hands rest on their knees while the girls in back hug in close. If it requires that you squat in that position until your thighs burn or you stand on one foot to get the best picture, that's what you do, darn it! And if it requires 13 takes, you better smile as big in the 12th as the first because it's going on 10 different Instagram accounts.
10. I'm sleepy at 9:30. (Long before the aforementioned photo op, mind you) I don't have to be in bed before 10:00, but I need to be in comfy clothes on somebody's sofa. I almost turned into a pumpkin!
11. Hugs make you smile no matter how many you get. (And I got a lot. They are huggers and I love that about them!)

I also learned:
12. There are blessings in being the oldest. My school loans have been paid off longer than they've been out of high school, so I picked up all the extras.
13. There is so much joy in freedom. There is so much to smile about in life - a cute font, a new lip color, a fun new piece of jewelry or a pen that writes really well. It's there if you look and let yourself smile.

We get so caught up in the stuff of life that sometimes we forget to breathe. We forget to laugh just because we can. We forget to hug. We take ourselves and our jobs and our spouses and our kids and our plans so seriously.

God gave me a special hug when He gave me Mallory because every time I spend time with her He reminds me who He made me to be. Before I was a wife or a writer or a mom or a teacher I was a girl. And it's fun to just be a girl. I'm so glad these sweet girls reminded me of that.

Don't miss the irony of my closed eyes. I SAID I was sleepy!


Jan 30, 2014

Let's Get Together Yeah, Yeah, Yeah

Four year olds are notorious for a lot of things; one of them is imitation. They will remember and repeat whole sentences and conversations - usually at the times you least prefer it. Brynna is no exception. One of her favorite words is apparently. "Apparently Miles needs to go outside." "Well, apparently I can't find my Barbie's shoes." "Mom, apparently I'm almost as tall as you." Good, bad or ugly, the eyes of a child are the most truthful mirror about yourself. And apparently I use the word apparently a lot.

In addition to things she hears, Brynna also imitates things she sees. She wants to wear high heels because I do. She wants to hunt deer because Daddy and Papa do. She thinks she's half mermaid because Merliah is in her Barbie movie. It was this raw belief that she can recreate anything that led her to leave her friend naked in a cape last week.

After gymnastics, Brynna's friend Kaitlin came over to play. They had tea parties, took care of babies, cooked food, played games and tried on every princess and dance dress in a 10 mile radius. About 5 minutes before Kaitlin's mom was to pick her up, I gave the girls a warning. I poked my head in the play room to find each of them in a different tutu, spinning in circles. I told them they didn't need to stop playing, but just to be aware Kaitlin would need to leave soon. Not long after that, I heard what happens regularly when girls play. "I'm telling your mom." Then footsteps toward my office followed by, "No, here, you can have it. You can have it!" Not the best way to handle a conflict, but that's part of learning. I assumed it was over, so imagine my surprise when Kaitlin comes walking into my office wearing nothing but panties and a pink princess cape. I couldn't stifle the laugh. I'm sorry. You shouldn't laugh at children, but that's funny.

Kaitlin proceeded to tell me that Brynna wanted to go to her house. Call me crazy, but I had no idea what that had to do with the little naked blonde person in front of me. About that time, Brynna came slowly around the corner and into my office - dressed entirely in Kaitlin's clothes. Head to toe, she had stripped of her dress up clothes, and before Kaitlin could put them on, Brynna had donned the sweatsuit Kaitlin had been wearing. What I had overheard was Kaitlin threatening to tell me and Brynna saying no, she could have her clothes back. But the plan was foiled when Brynna couldn't get the sweatshirt off by herself. The cape and panties were making a bit more sense. Kaitlin had been trying to get dressed when her clothes were stolen. But why on earth Brynna had the clothes on at all was still a mystery. As Brynna began sheepishly explaining that she wanted to go to Kaitlin's house, it all started making sense. Well, 4-year-old sense.

Brynna recently saw The Parent Trap. And by saw, I mean watched on repeat for 4 days straight while she and her daddy were sick. She wanted to go to Kaitlin's house, so it made perfect sense to her that she could change clothes and they'd just switch. I'd never notice that one little blonde person had been exchanged for the other. I asked if she wanted Kaitlin to live here with me and she said, "Well, only until I get done playing with her toys. Then we can go back."

Makes perfect sense. Well, 4-year-old sense.

Jan 23, 2014

Pillow Problem

My name is Regina, and I have a pillow problem. My last pillow purchase was 2 days ago.

Like most addictions, it's easy to explain to just yourself. But when you see it through someone else's eyes, you begin to get some perspective. My parents, brother and his wife came to visit this weekend. The first thing my dad said when putting luggage in the guest room was, "Can I get a pillow? I just don't think I have enough pillows." He was kidding, of course, but I did have more in the closet waiting for just such a request - begging to be called in off the bench. We hosted a Christmas party last month, and when everyone gathered in the living room to exchange presents, we pulled in extra chairs and found seats on sofas, etc. As 3 girls started to sit on the sofa, they awkwardly perched on the side until I suggested they throw the pillows on the floor, giving them more room. Of course minus the pillows, 2 more people had room to join them.

I'm not necessarily a pillow snob. I mean, I have standards. I prefer a down insert with a cover over a stuffed pillow. But I'm an equal opportunity purchaser. I'll take a Home Goods sale just as quickly (probably faster) than a Pottery Barn limited edition. (You didn't know there's such a thing as a limited edition pillow, did you? See, I'm using my problem for educational purposes!) I've got Target pillows right next to Peacock Alley shams. I love them. I can't help it. You can transform a room by changing the colors of the pillows. You can make a femininely shaped chair look more masculine; you can make an uncomfortable chair suddenly plush and comfy.

The problem is that pillows are the starter - the warm up. They are soft and comfortable. They are small and inexpensive (if purchased singularly. That logic is not as accurate when you go on a binge. Not that I know from experience. I'm just saying. It stands to reason.) They are pretty and unassuming. They add character without breaking the bank. But. They are a gateway drug. You start out with a cute pillow from Home Goods that matches your bedding. Next thing you know you're buying new furniture because you need color in one corner of the room and there's no chair to put a pillow on. (I'm speaking hypothetically, of course.)

They say admitting the problem is the first step. I'm not sure what Step 2 is in this case but I'm 2 days sober, and I plan to stay that way. Promise. Scouts honor.

(Until Spring. You have to change up the colors with holidays and seasons. That's necessary...right?)

Jan 8, 2014

Why Green Beans Are A Big Deal

Why do they hate the very things we crave? Food and sleep. I'd give anything for a nice, warm meal and a long night's sleep. My child, however, sees no benefit in slowing down to eat and finds that sleep interrupts her very important plans to take over the world. It's no wonder we're wandering the grocery store aisles in yoga pants and a t-shirt from college with hair that hasn't been combed for a day (maybe 2?). We're exhausted. A friend posted on Facebook yesterday how tired she is and the problems she's having with her 2 year old eating and sleeping. I am by no means an expert. None of us are. (I firmly believe annyone who says they are is a liar.) But I do know about 3 things - food, sleep and strong wills. I know because I've been in a 24/7 battle with one or all of them for the past 4 years, 9 months and 20 days.

While I can't fix it for you, I can tell you what helped and encourage you to keep going. Here's my overly simplified input...
(that's not overly short. sorry!)

It seems to have nothing to do with food or sleep, but bear with me:
Think of a kid's mind like large yard. An open space sounds freeing at first, but with no perimeter, it's more scary than good. Your job is to be the fence - to let her know that it's safe to run and play and be free - within that space. That fence provides security only if it's strong. So she goes about trying to figure out what's allowed, what's safe and most importantly, who she can trust. That means she has to try every inch of that fence to make sure she can feel safe in the yard. She will push every slat when it comes to food. She will poke every hole when it comes to bedtime. The best thing you can do is establish as early as possible that you built the fence, you are there to keep her safe and it's strong enough for her to trust. If she finds that the fence is sturdy in one area (maybe you're very strict about bedtime) but she gets away with more another time (when you're watching tv), she thinks that you aren't strong enough to trust all the time, so she needs to be in control.

I know it sounds A) like psycho babble or B) hard to do consistently. And you're right. It's hard. But there's more going on than food or bedtime. If you don't believe that, ask a runaway who never felt safe at home what would be different if someone had given them something to trust.

So here's my fence-keeping advice:

1. You matter - What you say, how you say it, what you do... This is more a mom thing than a kid thing. Eventually, the kid will grow out of whatever specific phase she is in. The issue is what your relationship will look like. Will she have learned to obey? Will she have learned to trust you? Or will she have figured out exactly how much it takes to wear you down before she gets her way? Because if she will wear you down about going to bed...imagine high school.

2. Consistency is key - You have to say the same thing every time and DO the same thing every time. If the answer is no on Tuesday, the answer is no on Friday. If the answer is no when we are playing, the answer is no when I'm on the phone. If the answer is no at home, the answer is no at church.

Every. Fence. Slat.

3. Enforce consequences - If you aren't willing to turn the car around, don't say you will. If you aren't really able to leave the restaurant in the middle of the meal, don't make that the consequence. Explain what the expectation is (eat your dinner), the reward for doing so (dessert) and the consequence if not (lose a favorite toy). And when she eats, you better be waiting with ice cream! If she doesn't, you better be willing to take away the toy no matter how much it cost or how bad she whines or how hard you just worked to put it together.

Every. Fence. Slat.

4. Make sure you win - If you said she has to eat 4 green beans, she has to eat them. Don't say she has to eat 4 more and then make the consequence going to bed. If she goes to bed as punishment, she didn't eat them. And in her mind, she won. Make the hurdles small at first to ensure you win. She has to take one more bite, only 2 green beans - just structure it, so you create a habit of "what mom says is what happens." I'm not trying to be mean or funny. You are in a battle for who that kid will be when she grows up. You can win and help her be a contributing member of society or you can let her win and watch her life spin sadly out of control.

It feels like green beans aren't that big of a deal. But every fence slat is. So if green beans is the issue at hand, green beans are a big deal.

5. Speak softly - If she learns that you'll ask nicely 6 times before you raise your voice and yell, how many times do you think she'll ask? If you count to 3, why would she obey on #1, she knows she has more time. On the other hand, if you ask nicely once, give a warning and then enforce the consequence, she'll learn to obey on your time frame instead of hers.

6. Take a Time Out - You. If you are about to yell, go step outside. If you are angry, take a minute before you respond. If you can't be in control of you, you are showing her that you can't be strong enough for her either. And she's found not only a weak spot in the fence about the issue at hand, but your weak spot in general - which she will gladly attempt to enflame at next opportunity.

7. Pick your battles - Don't try to tackle everything at once. If you haven't built a strong fence up to now, it's ok. You have time. But take it a step at a time. If she ate her lunch but wants to wear something crazy to the grocery store, let it go. If she picked up the toys but not perfectly, consider it good. If she's in her room but not in her bed, let it ride, Mom. One thing at a time. Brynna sometimes talks to herself for an hour before going to sleep. We'll tackle quiet later, for today, she's in there!

Practically in regards to food and sleep:

1. The nap/rest/bedtime battle is so different for every kid. Maybe you have one that will nap 3 hours but then struggles at bedtime. While that 3 hours is awesome in the afternoon, it's torture at night. So, maybe shorten the nap. If you have a kid, like mine, who decides at the ripe age of 2 that naps are not for her, create a rest time that works for her. For some, that means reading on their bed for the same amount of time as a nap. For some (mine), it means choosing 3 toys and quiet play in her room. (If I don't force her to stop, she never stops. But if I force it too much, it's more than she can do and I've entered into a battle I can't win. Been there. Done that. No thanks.) Whatever changes you make, start small. Try a new nap routine and see if it affects bedtime. Or make the bedtime routine more strict and see how it works first. Don't change everything at once - that's hard on everyone.

2. While it is true that a kid won't let himself starve, he still needs food. And you still need sanity. If your doctor thinks its appropriate, maybe a supplement will help her get more calories and ease your mind. If the doc thinks she's perfectly healthy, choose your battles. Let her have a choice if she likes to feel a part of the decision. Make the portions smaller if finishing is the issue. I've used a timer when dinner dragged on for hours. When time was up, so was dinner and nothing else to eat that night. (Side note: Nothing else to eat means you, too. Don't tell her no dessert and then make yourself a snack and give in to letting her taste a bite of yours.) The point is that you make the goal achievable to establish a routine.

3. The Ok to Wake Clock saved my life. You set bedtime and wake time, so it gives the child a visual cue. This helps especially when it's light out at bedtime. For whatever reason, she doesn't believe me, but if the clock is yellow, it must be true. It glows yellow all night long (both a nightlight and reminder) and then turns green when it's time to get up. I have no idea what time Brynna wakes up, but I hear her feet hit the floor at exactly 7:30 am when the clock turns green.

4. Rewards are just as important as consequences as long as they don't become bribes. When you're "paying" for her to go to bed, you are no longer winning. Sticker charts have worked for us, but for short seasons. If it becomes every week without change, she loses interest. The same thing won't always work, but often being allowed something "new" is reward. If she usually can't have books in bed, allow it for good behavior. Letting a special toy/friend sleep with her can sometimes work. The more good behavior you reward, the fewer bad behaviors there are that need consequences.

5. Consequences are necessary. Life is full of them. And the key is to make them as insignificant as you can. Sometimes simply their preferences can be used as consequences. Brynna doesn't like the door closed, so the rule is that if she yells once we've put her to bed, we close the door. If yours sleep with a closed door but keep opening it, sit outside the door with consequence ready. Is that fun? No. But neither is the alternative. I've taken away books before bed, a toy she wanted to sleep with, etc. Kids are little; little things matter. The point is to start small. If you start with a spanking, you don't have much further to go. If you start with a closed door, removing toys from the room, etc, you are actually speaking more on their level of understanding. They want the toy, you took the toy, you'll give the toy back if they behave...easy logic to follow. (If it's consistent!!) The other major this is that they must be immediate. Tomorrow feels like 3 weeks to a 2 year old. A consequence of what they can do the next day bears no meaning to them. Immediate and tangible are the way their minds work, so consequences must follow suit.

I think the hardest part of being a mom and the part least understood is that you're tired! Tired like you've never felt before. Dear Lord! So tired! But I can tell you this. If you're that tired, you're doing it right. If it hurts, you're making progress. I once kicked a trainer for telling me that the burn I felt in my arms was good because it meant my form was correct. Don't kick me. But it's true. Yes, you need a nap, but more than that, you need to know you're doing something. You need to know that the hours and tears and pain are worth it. You need to see a glimmer of hope, a light at the end of the toddler tunnel. This is me, holding a flashlight, cheering you on. You ARE doing something. It IS worth it. I know that doesn't make the circles under your eyes less dark, but I hope it helps your heart.

You are not working in vain. You are not tired for no reason. You are a mom. A good one. You are the best mom your kid could ever have because God entrusted her to you.

Keep going. You can do it.

If you want more info, leave a comment. Let's chat. Or if you have a question or different suggestion, tell us. The only thing that makes being a mom any harder is trying to do it alone. Please share! What have you done that worked? What tips can you share? What routine are you struggling with at this stage?

Jan 7, 2014

Confessions

Even though she's watched it 375 times, I don't mind The Parent Trap. It gets worse...by Parent Trap I mean the Lindsey Lohan remake. (In my defense, it may just be that it's not Barbie. I can't watch another Barbie movie. I can't.)

I don't want to say the picture is pretty 12 times. Once, at the end...that's one thing. But every 5 seconds drives me nuts. "Isn't this so pretty?" "Do you like how I colored her hair?" "Now look..."

While BG was sick, I held or sat with her while also watching Big Love on the iPad with one ear bud in. The show's not even good. And I can't get that time or brain space back!

I don't let anyone else feed Miles (the dog) people food but I do it.

I didn't help Brynna make cupcakes because it was a fun activity. I wanted to eat cupcakes.

I want to sit in a room by myself. Just quietly by myself.

I want one whole day where I'm not followed, crawled on, hugged, kissed or touched.

I miss having only myself to consider.

I miss going to work.

I want to work on something until I finish or choose to stop rather than working until someone needs something so I have to come back to it later.

I just want to think about what I want without first thinking about how everyone else's schedule or feelings will be affected.

I hate the "mom guilt" that comes with wanting those thing.

Dec 17, 2013

7 Rules of Being Playground Best Friends

BFF = Best Friends Forever
BFFFM = Best Friends For Fifteen Minutes (or until someone's Mom says its time to go)

There are a lot of intelligent quotes about friendship. Friendships are born in the midst of tragedy. Friendship is forged over long distance rather than close proximity. Friendship is the product of similar personality and interests.

The very sophisticated people who researched and wrote those quotes have obviously never spent time at the mall play area. The rules of being playground besties are simple:

1. Ask - There's this unspoken code. One child asks "Do you want to play with me?" and another responds. If he says no, it's not cause for tears. He wanted to do something else; on to the next potential friend. If he says "sure," GAME ON.

2. Names are unnecessary - Everytime I ask Brynna the name of the kid she was playing with, I get a look like she's really trying to figure out if I'm mentally stable. It makes no sense to her. Why would you need a name to play with someone?

3. Age doesn't matter - You don't pick who will be at the play area at the same time. You choose from the friend pool you're given. If she's 2 years younger than you, you crawl through tunnels. If he's older than you, you're going to have to run faster because Tag is his middle name.

4. It lasts as long as allowed - The length of friendship is dependent solely on when someone's mom says it's time to go. In a good scenario, you get the "two more minutes" warning. Other times, it's more abrupt.

5. No dress code - You can be friends whether you just came from pictures with Santa in a fancy dress or you came from school and your uniform pants are dirty and falling off because they don't fit right.

6. Help each other - If someone falls down, friends help them up so you can keep going. Making fun serves no purpose. There's a game in process.

7. It doesn't matter that you smell like feet - And they do. They all do.

What matters is you're there, and you're willing to be a friend. It's that simple.

Dec 13, 2013

Gag Reel

I made a Gag Reel a few months ago and had so many people say how funny it was. Apparently I'm not the only person who opens my phone's cameral roll to discover all sorts of treasures. It's been a few months and a few more hundred photos and time for another reel. (Sidenote: Can you believe that we have hundreds of pictures just lying around on our PHONES? Remember those commercials and movies we used to think were crazy because someone talked on a phone without a cord? You don't remember? Well, you're 12. What do you know?)


Train a child in the way she should go...and you won't have to take the trash out anymore.

If I had to sum Brynna up in a photo, it would look like this.

...or this
...or this.


I'm not sure why I needed to save it as a picture. But I did.

This is the shirt I brought Brynna from the So You Think You Can Dance tour.

This is what she did when I gave it to her.


My mother-in-law and I have the same breed of dog. Mine ate his twin.

When in doubt, put ALL THE STICKERS ON YOUR FACE!

My view at Kumon
"Mom. We have to take a picture and send it to Daddy so he can see we have the same necklace."
"Mom! Take a picture! I'm on a rock!"
"Mom! Take a picture! I'm on a bench!"
"Mom! Take a picture! I'm with this metal kid!"

Dec 12, 2013

My Grown Up Christmas List

An assistant (yes, I stay at home. what of it?)

shoes (no, I don't neeeeeed them. when has that mattered?)

massage

ear plugs

part time child - like one I can borrow when BG is climbing the walls but I don't have to send to college

yellow cupcakes with chocolate icing (I feel like fudge should be a given, but just to be clear. Fudge icing.)

a nap

3 plane tickets to Australia (or 4 plane tickets from AUS to the US. I'm not picky)

a pen that won't run out of ink (#writerproblems)

people to show up in January and offer to take down, organize and store all the Christmas decorations

iPhone5


oh...world peace



Your turn. What's on your list?

Dec 10, 2013

Dinner Diversions

Eating a meal with Brynna is always...an event. We used to think that when she got to school, it would help alleviate some of her "quirks." Instead, however, she is completely unaffected by peer pressure. It doesn't bother her at all that she brings a sandwich, fruit and vegetable everyday. It doesn't hurt her feelings not to have the chip or cookie someone else's mom packed. On the day they had a pizza party she told me she would try one bite - just one. In a moment of disbelief I encouraged her, "Great job, Brynna! That's all we ask!" She replied, "Ok. I'll try one bite of pizza for you Mama. When I'm 17."

Awesome. I packed a sandwich, fruit and vegetable.

I love her spunk. I am proud beyond words that she doesn't mind being different and isn't swayed or persuaded by other kids. I just want her to eat. One meal without having to force the issue. One dinner without drama. I'm sure some of you are thinking that I'm just not strict enough and if she won't eat what I make, she doesn't eat. Brynna comes by her will naturally. Hers is strong because mine is too. We've had knock-down drag-out wait-all-night-if-it-takes-that-long meals. We've repeated the same food at multiple meals until it's eaten. We've tried forcing the issue. We've tried minimizing it to not reward attention-seeking. And when she was 1, she underwent gastroscopic surgery because doctors thought she may have a tear in her esophagus causing pain BECAUSE SHE DIDN'T EAT FOR A MONTH.

Needless to say, food is something we deal with. It's not a battle as much anymore. She's learning who's in charge (me) and who's not (her). She's learning that I will allow her room to be herself but she has to do so within the boundaries we set. She's learning that I will only make her try new things at certain times but when I do, we're not leaving until it's done. She's stubborn. She's not dumb. She knows that when we sit down to eat, that's what we are doing. But that doesn't keep her from trying every excuse in the book. As proof, I give you last night's attempted dinner diversions.

I'm cold.
My food is too hot.
My dress is dirty.
The food is spicy.
I need a new fork for my green beans; this one touched my oranges.
My food isn't good.
I'm not 5 years old.
This food is so good (that I want to stop and talk about it, therefore, still not eating it).
I can blink my eyes really fast.
I need to tell you a story about Kaitlin on the playground today.
Hot pink is my favorite color but my plate is purple.
I'm hot.
My food is too cold.
Michael (my imaginary brother) wants a bite.
Miles (the dog) wants a bite.
If I eat all the food, my plate will be lonely.
The butterflies (bow tie pasta) want to dance.
I hear something outside.
It's not snowing.
I need to count how many green beans there are.
Zoe likes ice cream like I do.
AJ's Spider Man shoes light up.
I lost count. I need to count the green beans again.
I need to count how many butterflies are left so the green beans aren't lonely.

I'M NOT KIDDING. This is not a fabrication for the sake of a good story or to prove a point. I literally had my phone beside me and typed as she rambled.

And then I stabbed myself with my fork.


Does your kid have any quirks? Or am I the only one?

Dec 6, 2013

Facebook is NOT

Before we commence with the list of things Facebook is not, let me say that Facebook IS a lot of things. Facebook is a way to connect with people you would have lost touch with otherwise. Facebook allows you to share life with those who live far away. Facebook lets you go back and see a history of where you've been, what you've seen and how you felt. Facebook gets a message or product in front of a maximum amount of people. Facebook is a tool that, when used properly, can be of great value personally, professionally and individually.

That being said...Facebook is NOT...

Confidential - What you say can AND WILL be used against you.

Neutral - Everyone doesn't agree with your opinion, nor are they obligated to remain an unbiased observer. When you clicked "post" you invited the opinions, critiques and rants of others. If you need to vent without response, may I recommend you get a dog?

Always Kind - There are times, yes, that comments are to encourage or uplift. More often, though, what others have to say creates more harm than help. Their suggestions make you doubt your ability to decide. Their disagreements further your insecurities.

Therapy - The point of voicing your hurts and fears in a counseling session is to shed light on a problem and receive valuable (trained) advice on what steps need to be taken to better the situation. The release of pain does not come from merely saying the words but doing the suggested work alongside a professional. Airing your deepest feelings on Facebook accomplishes none of that. You may say it, but that's not where the healing comes from and the feedback you get will rarely be advisable and often more painful.

Private - EVERYONE CAN SEE THAT. Yes, you wanted to share the picture of your kid on the toilet with all the grandparents and your friend in another state. Yes, it may have been faster to post it than send it privately. Yes, I'm sure it was hilarious. But EVERYONE CAN SEE THAT. No matter how strong your security or privacy settings, Facebook is on the internet. Unless you can write computer code faster than Mark Zuckerberg, you just shared a naked picture of your child where people who have less than admirable intentions have access to it.

That brings me to...Facebook is NOT...

Temporary - Once you post it, you can't unpost it. Once it's said, you can't unsay it. Those pictures will be there for anyone to see - FOREVER - including your child who won't always be 2 and at 17 might not feel as strongly about how hilarious he looked sitting on the toilet.

Pretend - It's REAL. REAL people with REAL feelings are REALLY hurt when you say something unkind. I'm not speaking metaphorically; your kids REALLY will see those pictures. She REALLY will wonder why you tell her to dress modestly but let people she's never met see pictures of her without a shirt on. He REALLY will question if it's better to act respectfully when, to get a laugh, you tell the world every time he misbehaves. Protecting our kids is a full time job and they need us to keep them safe in cyberspace just as diligently as we inspect carseats and food labels.

Necessary - Am I saying we should all go delete our accounts? No. What I'm saying is that if no one comments on your post it doesn't make your thought less valid or your feeling less real. If someone disagrees it doesn't make you wrong. If someone agrees it doesn't make you right.

I hope it goes without saying, but I don't just mean Facebook. I mean Twitter and Instagram and Pinterest and whatever else there is that I don't even know the name of. 
So what did I miss? What else is social media NOT?

Dec 2, 2013

Observations in OK

I spent last week in Oklahoma with family for Thanksgiving. My parents live on acreage outside of Tulsa. (For my city friends, that means there are no buildings taller than 2 stories and there are cows. Lots of them.) While I grew up in Oklahoma, we lived in the city limits, so the country still surprises me sometimes. And while I visit often, every now and then I see the good old plains state through the eyes of someone who has experienced so much of the world outside of the flatlands.

Some observations from Oklahoma...

Camouflage is acceptable daily wear. I was under the impression that camo was designed to blend in to the surroundings of the woods to conceal hunters from their prey. I was wrong. It is apparently appropriate at the movies, while shopping or out for a nice dinner. 

I had no idea camo came in so many styles and shades of pink.

Wifi is not necessary for life. If this confuses you, you are not alone. I, too, was confused. It would appear, however, that when your nearest neighbor is a mile away, fiber optics are out of the question. (If you're wondering, this is also the reason this blog is 4 days late. At a certain point, you give up and just go drink a glass of iced tea.)

Country is not the same as Southern. In the South, people speak with an accent and may have different words for common terms. (For example, "ya'll" means "you all" and a buggy is a shopping cart.) In the Country, people speak another language. Just like visiting any other foreign environment, you can get real lost, real quick. Dark thirty is not a movie - that's just after sunset. You might say "no worries." They say "don't give it no never mind." Food is kept in the icebox and yesterday Wal-Mart was busier "than who laid the chunk." (That one may be less Country and more just my dad. When frustrated he also claims you are "overcooking his grits.")

My dad didn't write this book. But he could have.

You see more when you slow down. There is a rule when you turn onto my parents' drive. You slow down and creep around the corner (with brights on if it's after dark thirty) and you scan the horizon for whatever may be waiting - whether its the cows at the fence or deer in the field. You can't see what you don't slow down and look for.

You see more when there's less to see. When surrounded by lights and sounds and cars and phones and tweets and texts...things can get lost in the noise. When you stand in the middle of a field, you see the way the wind blows the grass. You see the shape of a snake in a fallen tree limb. (Which Brynna affectionately named Princess.) You see animals in the clouds. You hear birds and feel the peace that comes with silence.

These town names are not normal. I thought they were, but I now realize I just never knew differently. Oklahoma is the heart of Native America, so Talequah, Sapulpa, Checotah, Atoka, Wapenucka and Nowata are just stops along the way - as is Quapaw (where we drove through on the way to Thanksgiving dinner).

If I hadn't taken a picture you wouldn't have believed me, would you?

Gravy goes with (and on) everything. We met my grandparents for dinner at the home of the world famous hot hamburger. (I'm still trying to understand what you'd do with a cold hamburger.)

To answer your obvious question...no, I didn't have the famous burger.
I stuck to chicken tenders. Seemed safer.

It's so dry! I realize I live in Houston (ie.e: the inside of a cloud), but Oh My Gosh! My dad's temperature gauge says there's 24% humidity. My skin has sucked up every drop of moisture in the air and it's still cracked.

"News" is relative. Traffic was backed up a whole mile after an accident. We watched a helicopter shot of an intersection with a water main break for 30 minutes. The weatherman who asked viewers to send in Twitter updates read them from his phone (which he struggled to see). Better to have no news than bad news, I guess...

Kids don't need half the stuff they (or we) think they need. Brynna doesn't need Barbies or castles or movies or electronics when she's in the country. She feeds horses and dogs. She climbs trees and runs and counts stars until the rest of us are too cold to stay outside any longer. 



Sunsets have more colors than Crayola could fit in any box of crayons.


Nov 18, 2013

What matters matters

This weekend's challenge was to focus on the question: Does it matter? I'm not going to say that I brought it on myself, but....I may have brought it on myself. I practically begged the craziness out of the corners. And by "craziness" I, of course, mean Brynna Grace. Who, this weekend, I affectionally (not really) referred to as GoGo the dancing monkey.

GoGo has been asking to set up the Christmas tree since October. I held her off as long as I could but decided we would decorate before we leave for Thanksgiving so it's done when we return. I made the comment that we would ask Daddy to get the boxes down from the attic over the weekend. Apparently my child's understanding of a week is defined similarly to a college student, and the weekend now starts Thursday night. David didn't get his work clothes changed before she was dragging him up the attic ladder. They retrieved the few bins in that part of the attic, but he told her he would get the rest above the garage the next night. People. She sat on the tubs "to be close to them." Friday was the same song different verse. You'd think she was at the circus with the squeals and excitement, but no. Just going up and down the attic ladder. It was around this time that GoGo lost complete control of her senses. We started opening the boxes of Snow Village figurines, and she tore into them so quickly we had to take them away. She was allowed to look as we removed them from the packaging but that turned into talking to them, which led to them talking to each other, which led to them saying hi to each other, which meant glass and ceramic family heirlooms were banging into each other in the hands of a madwoman. Have I mentioned my OCD issues? Have we discussed that I need things to be done in order? DOES ANYTHING SOUND ORDERLY ABOUT THIS? No. I had to walk away. We all had to walk away. Fast forward to Saturday morning when I'm greeted with "Mommy, I don't need breakfast or milk today. Can we just set up the Christmas tree?"

I want it to be fun and exciting; I do. I want to take advantage of her excitement and celebrate her joy. But Oh. My. Gosh. We first had to finish Snow Village after abandoning ship the night before. A note about Snow Village for those uneducated as I was: these are hand-crafted ceramic buildings, people, etc that when set up together, form a village. They light up, you add "snow" and a winter wonderland forms in your living room. (Or in our case, David's office that will be out of use for the next month and a half. Sorry, babe.) David's family started collecting them when he was little. The boys got to pick buildings to add, and when we got married, David's mom split the collection between David and his brother. Not only are they expensive, but they've been a part of most every Christmas of David's life.

As "snow" was flying through the air (literally - she wanted it to snow in the room so she didn't just place the batting on the table, but threw it), I had to stop. One...Two...Breathe. Does it matter that we have to vacuum this room (again). No. Does it matter that Snow Village doesn't look the way I would have arranged and decorated it on my own? No.

After the Snow Village fiasco, we moved on to the tree. But before you can put ornaments on a tree, you have to put tinsel/ribbon/SOMETHING around it. Before you can do that, you have to place the star on top. Even after those things are done, you have to carefully unpack the ornaments. The past several years, I've done a "pretty" tree (matching ornaments, ribbon, etc) vs. one with sentimental ornaments. Before I could decide the theme/plan for the tree, Brynna had half the family ornaments spread on the coffee table. Does it matter what the tree looks like? No. Does it matter that I didn't get to plan a "vision" in my head before being in the midst of doing it? No. Does it matter there are no fancy bows, flowers or accessories? No.

While I was finishing the ribbon on the tree, Brynna moved on to looking through tubs and found the stockings. We have 4 stockings - David, me, Brynna, Miles (the dog). When I say she put them up for 45 minutes, I'm being conservative. She would hang them, step back and admire her work (out loud, of course), then she would taken them all down and repeat. Over and over and over. She tells me she was practicing. I have no idea for what. Is there a stocking hanging competition I don't know about? Is there a meet? Do you get a medal? I'm so confused. And so annoyed. I said it - annoyed. If you need state secrets from me, no need to get drastic. Just have someone do the same thing over and over in front of me. I'll crack like an egg. But when I took a step back (and away. I had to leave the room for a minute), I asked: does it matter? Is she hurting anything? No. Is it damaging the stockings, mantle or step ladder? No.

We eventually got ornaments on the tree, and that's about it. It goes against everything in me to post this for the world to see, but this is my living room currently. It's looked that way all weekend. When I posted the challenge to concentrate on ONE thing for TWO days, I meant theoretically. I didn't know I would be walking through the middle of chaos. (It's always easier to SAY you'll do it than actually DO it, huh?)

The question you're all wondering...did GoGo the monkey ever stop dancing? No. Does it matter? Yes. THAT does matter to me. Greatly. More than a tree or a messy house or family heirlooms, it matters that Brynna is excited for Christmas. It matters that she is free to express her excitement and joy. It matters that she knows I am willing to let her. It matters that she's so proud of the tree and Snow Village and tells everyone that "Mommy and I did it together!"

She doesn't look at this weekend and think it was hectic or irritating. She thinks it was fun. She thinks she created something beautiful. And she did.

That matters.

What matters to you? And/or what doesn't? 

Nov 11, 2013

Confessions

Sometimes the answer is no. No, I don't really want to stop what I'm doing to see the coloring page for the 12th time. No, I don't want to hear the song again. No, I don't want to glitter paint right now.

After giving BG a riveting speech about how bad it is to eat sweets before bed and cutting off her Oreo habit, I promptly put her to bed, poured a glass of milk and ate 3 chocolate chip cookies.

I've been adding minutes to the Ok to Wake clock (i.e.: the greatest invention ever made). It now turns green at 7:36. (Don't hate. You know 6 minutes can save a life. It can be the difference between a shower or not, peeing in private vs. with an audience, sanity or...the alternative.)

Of all the kids in all the world, sometimes I just stare at her and can't believe God lets me be her mom.

I don't care what you do in your room as long as you're in your room. And I'm not.

I wouldn't be mad if BG punched ***** on the playground. I'd teach her about appropriate behaviors and responses, but I wouldn't be mad. (*****'s name removed to protect the bratty 4 year old child who won't let kids play, is rude and encourages other kids to be rude, talks back to adults, pushes kids and is generally not a joy to be around. Also to protect me. I could explain Brynna punching someone on the playground, me - probably not.)


I realize my confessions run the gambit from sweet and loving to...well...threatening to punch a 4 year old. Welcome to motherhood. Welcome to being a girl, for that matter! Will you leave a comment and share some confessions of your own? No one is grading on eloquent words or justifiable feelings. It's ok to be real. If you can't be real, you'll go real crazy! (Been there, done that, have the meds to prove it!)

ps: I'm serious. Leave a comment. Or I may begin to feel like I'm the only one. Either that, or I'll know you're all leaving me high and dry, and I'll have to come find you on a playground!

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