So my ex was/is a huge fan of all things television and cable programming related which in turn has made me the odd-ball-social-misfit who cringes at the idea of multiple televisions on in one house and has assured myself that a life without cable is totally the way to go. This in turn has caused an odd understanding of broadcast media delivery in our house….my toddler now thinks that you watch television on an iPhone via YouTube and that this happens at 5:30 am.

He thinks that episodes of Yo Gabba Gabba are actually presented on a per-song basis rather than a per-episode basis. When recently watching DVR-ed versions of the program at my mother’s house even I found myself fidgeting half way through while waiting for the next musical number. So you tell me – am I creating a social pariah or a child free of the burden of the 30-minute sitcom?

In order to pacify my tiny snow bound tot we made the tedious trek to his MiMi’s house (a.k.a. MY mother’s house) last Friday afternoon. The joy of Mimi’s house for Texas is that although all things are appropriately child proofed  it is a virtual wonderland of normally off-limit activities.

As I typed this last week, Texas was sitting between his MiMi’s legs on the floor wildly swinging a maraca in one hand and some African noise-making-shaker in the other –  beating both of them on a large cookie tin. Earlier that day he was allowed to go down for his nap with a Ekalaka and a 2 lbs fossil (I could not make this stuff up if I tried). He was ‘helping’ his Mimi with a project  in his nursery and emerged with a pair of pliers – when confronted with the contraband my own mother looked at me with the same confused look I see from the 20-month old and said ‘ooooh come on – what could he do with those?!’. Seconds later he inserted them in his mouth and managed to pinch his tongue with them.

He ingested cold pizza, pigs-in-a-blanket and fed the dog some craisins. Could life get any better for a toddler? I submit that is could not. Of course, it is always a challenge bringing him back home to schedules and rules that involve not sleeping with rocks but I guess that is what trips to grandparents houses are all about!

As mentioned before, I travel quite a bit for my job. Texas is still young enough that he happily climbs in and out of my suitcase as I pack it for trips and ‘helps’ me gather items to pack inside of it. In his world during the week we really only spend about an hour and half together in the morning before school/work and about two hours at night before bedtime so my travels don’t have a huge impact. In my world however it means not watching him devour bean and cheese burritos (his current favorite food) for dinner or act like a fishy in the tub before pjs and ‘night night’…it means not cuddling from 4:45 am (when he typically stirs and comes to bed with me) to 5:30 am when we get up.

He is still too young to understand the overarching concept of my time away and phone calls home seem to cause more stress than peace so I don’t usually talk to him while I am gone. I get updates and loads of photos in hotel rooms….some trips are heartbreaking and some are so fast that I have to admit he adult time is refreshing but all in all, I am lucky and happy to have a job!

When he gets a little older technology will allow us to Skype every night I am away which will be wonderful but for now I will rely on quick snap shots from camera phones and bits of information passed on by loving DaDas and MiMis……

So, as with all things parenting-related another moving target of decision making emerges…..do I give my tiny tot juice? The answer for 20-months has been ‘no’ but on a recent play-date the idea of my child becoming a social pariah got me thinking. For years parenting books and even pediatricians have changed their answers on so many questions like this it can be hard to keep up but on this issue I tend to agree with the latest info that encourages water.

I am not judging or preaching I am just saying that from my own experience, mainly Weight Watchers based, a half-cup of juice is a point and a gallon of water has no points. But as I sat slightly terrified and watched a mother (who incidentally I am very in-sync with on parenting choices) pour  juice in sippy cups  for our children I had to make the split second decision….my choice….I let the kid taste it and to my joy he quickly made his ‘ca-ca face’ and tried to wipe it off his tongue. If we get this reaction to juice I assume that a sip of cola would send him into a vomiting spell or some kind of strange trance.

Now before everyone acts like I am torturing him – he gets all the fruit he wants all day – fresh, organic, appropriately sized fruit but he gets it as a food not a drink so the sugar he is ingesting also fills him up.

Texas now strings a series of words together to form ‘sentences’ (insert YEA!)….the awesome part of this is that although he can articulate many words now (ones that even adult humans can understand) when he strings them into what I assume is a sentence they resemble Turkish (insert sigh).

His normal more, mama, moo, no-no, car, bath, light when combined sound like medical conditions or names with 17 constants. Once again irrational parenting thoughts begin to arise – perhaps I am using incomplete sentences with him….maybe more flash cards……what if he is actually regressing? And then I look up and he is calling the dog over to  his high chair (by his name) and trying to feed him banana slices while happily saying ‘Bub-Ber Nana’…so maybe he is getting it after all. Who knows he might be bi-lingual, I should brush up on my Turkish I guess – his Montessori school is very diverse.

It has officially been three days of captivity – and the news recently announced a fourth day of school closures. The pancake making and finger painting have begun to wear thin and longing gazes into the yard have begun to linger. My tiny charge has lost some of his glee and I admittedly have begun to resort to desperate measures to entertain him while also keeping up with my mounting inbox from my ‘day job’.

While trying to decifer post-industrial recycled content for steel products from a manufacturing facility in Mexico today I allowed Texas to empty out a kitchen cabinet and repeatedly pound on metal mixing bowls with a plastic spoon. A spoon I might add that he stole from the pantry and has been hiding in his downstairs toy box as contraband for several months it seems. These are not proud moments but the show must go on. Another shining parenthood moment was chasing him around the living room after he jerked the aircard from my laptop yelling ‘No, it is NOT yours mister…it is MINE!’ UGghHHhHhhHh…..the end is in sight – they say it is supposed to be 50 degrees on Saturday – the downside is that the hot water pipes in two bathrooms in the house seem to be frozen so I guess there is a slight chance that my weekend could be spent dealing with burst pipes.

In the end I cannot think of another place or anyone else in the world I would rather be trapped with. However, I am secretly saying little prayers every day that my Chicago trip next week is not cancelled….there is something very appealing right now about being at a conference with 100+ other adults in a hotel with a spa…does that make me a horrible parent – at the very least it makes me an honest one!

Texas is officially fully immersed in the Uh-Ohs and honestly I could go another six lifetime’s without hearing the phrase again. Uh-Oh – I threw my spoon on the floor for the 6,432nd time during dinner, Uh-Oh I hit the dog again, Uh-Oh I am just standing completely still (I suspect these Uh-Ohs are brought on by thoughts of devilish deeds), Uh-Oh – you served me nachos that I love and immediately begin eating, Uh-Oh – I locked a cat in the linen closet again.

The best part of the Uh-Ohs is how adorable the rest of the world finds them….well isn’t that the most precious thing ever…..did you hear that little boy say Uh-Oh honey?……what a dear boy….

Clearly what the above people and their comments have in common are either recent labotamies, senility or the inability to produce tiny Uh-Oh machines of their own. I love my tiny charge and as my friends and family can attest take constant videos of him and publish them to YouTube endlessly…Texas learns to use his bird whistle, Texas kisses the cat, Texas on a swing for the first time…and I am sure to the outside world these are as droll as I find the Uh-Ohs right now. But I do solemnly swear to all my loved one – you will NEVER see a video entitled Texas Says Uh-Oh.

We all remember the excitement of snow days as children – getting up early and anxiously standing over your mother’s shoulder as she watches for your school to be announced on television. Now that I am a mother (albeit my tiny charge is too young to grasp the whole concept of school closures) I am in the position to enjoy snow days in a whole new light.

Thus far this morning I have enjoyed a parade of tiny plastic animals across my laptop’s keyboard as I attempt to get some work done, watched as Texas giggled with glee at the white blanket of tiny ice balls that have covered our yard and been privy to his first glimpse of ‘yellow snow’ as Buster relieved himself outside.

We have had eggs with cheese melted on hot sourdough bread and will be exploring the world of pancakes this afternoon in fun outer space shapes (great pancake molds from Williams-Sonoma  above – they do take some practice to master however). So everyone stay warm today and enjoy your own version of a snow day with your loved ones!

…anyone with a preschooler is familiar with the Little People videos and toys by Fisher Price. Before Texas was born I was not a huge fan of Mr. Neville by any means but anyone who can harmonize with Linda Ronstadt like he can has his place in the world.

Post the birth and consequent Little People video introduction to my life I would like The Neviller (as we now call him around the house) to go away and leave my brain in peace. I don’t want to discover Sarah or Michael and I most certainly don’t want my brain discovering them while I am holding meetings or giving presentations at work, or while  I am grocery shopping or driving or reading or eating dinner.

With motherhood comes the unexpected longing for ‘The Answer’ to all things. It was in the first few months of Texas’ life that I began to understand the mystical holy-grail of new parenthood, the after-hours pediatric nurse.

She answers the phone 24-hours a day, she helps you identify rashes, walks you through make-shift bandages and helps you mix odd but effective concotions to ease tiny tummies and sore throats all at 2:00 am. I am convinced that she might even be able to guide me through minor surgery with a few well choosen words a flashlight and some gaff tape.

She is always there, she is always calm, she always has an answer, and she is covered by my insurance. Faceless after-hours nurse…I salute you!