This weekend the little angel finally sat for a long time unassisted. She used this newfound skill to find that by sitting, she could reach far more items to put in her mouth, including the cat. She may have been inspired by her friend, the little boy, who came over for our first babysitting exchange on Friday night. I was unprepared for such a mobile baby. I went to change his diaper, and he immediately flipped over and crawled away, tiny little penis flopping in the breeze. I yelled for my beloved to help me with this new sort of baby. My beloved was unimpressed. "That'll be her in a few months," he said, and handed me the diaper. "Better cover him up before it blows." Yeah, right.

What having the little boy over did teach me was that babies just get more and more fun as time goes on. Even though he is only five weeks older than the little angel, the little boy has always been more ambitious in the mobility department. He was so curious and interested in everything.

After all of that inspiration, we then had an extremely busy day on Saturday, including a shrimp boil party up north and an Oktoberfest party out west. The first party went pretty well, but by the second party, the little angel had decided her social calendar needed to be cleared, PRONTO. Strangely enough, once we had been in the car for a few minutes, she was yodelling again, happy as a clam. I think she is channeling Julie from the Love Boat...our new social planner.

Then today, she decided it was time to assert her advanced self. We were playing with the train and the piano, and she sat up for about a half hour with no help. Now, I consider sitting up in a meeting and concentrating on one topic for a half hour to be a major feat of concentration (although tax prep is not quite as interesting as a piano or a train), so I was shocked at her intense, Buddha focus. My little girl, growing up so fast. Next thing you know she'll be twirling a baton.

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Today is the first day of my work-from-home experiment. In an attempt to quell my continuing guilt and anxiety over leaving the little angel at Oz every day of the workweek, I have negotiated a temporary experiment to see if I can remain productive and valuable while sitting on the floor with my baby.

First off, YEAH FOR WIRELESS INTERNET. I am logged into my work network and have already Accomplished Things that would take me an hour at work because I would have to do them after I have first 1) driven there 2) filled water bottle with water located all the way across the floor 3) talked to my co-workers for at least ten minutes 4) fielded three questions or complaints from roving developers and 5) stared longingly at photos of the little angel while silently berating myself for our current need for dual incomes.

The experiment has also made me realize I will have to return to the office having completed at least one major project to which I can point if anyone complains about my physical absence. That will require extreme focus of which I am really not so capable of in my prarie dog village.

Finally, the best benefit today for working from home: escaping the fire drill. We're on the 32nd floor. HA!!!

Ah, so much to observe. Since I am having some trouble with focus these past few days, I'll just list my thoughts like the bumbling hodgepodge that they are.

My friends C. and J. brought their sweet baby J. to visit Kansas City from Chicago this past weekend. He is six weeks old. He made all the same noises the little angel made when she was six weeks old, and he also did the same RANDOM, UNEXPLAINED CRYING that she did then and really no longer does. Ah parenthood, the great equalizer. I imagine even little Apple could be reduced to sauce rather quickly when she was six weeks old. Also, I realized HOW HAPPY I AM that she no longer does much a) random crying or b) nighttime partying. She now is much like my beloved and I, content to sit on the couch and eat, bless her heart.

On Saturday morning, friends from Columbia and NYC were also in to run the SMA 5k. I had never even heard of Spinal Muscular Atrophy, but it turns out that my friend K's niece has it and is in a wheelchair. Now, it's a snazzy, red, motorized wheelchair, but a wheelchair nonethless. They had all these photos of little smiling babies on posts stuck around by the start of the 5k. I thought about the little angel, and how so far she appears to be normal (if fat), and how horrible I would feel if she had a terrible disease. Then, of course, I started bawling right there at the starting line. I think I effectively hid most of it, but this brings me to another subject: I am one of those mothers that cries. I did not used to be. This is rather disturbing to me. I'm sure it will embarrass the little angel quite a bit when she is twelve.

I got bitten by a spider sometime this weekend. I'm going to the doctor today, because my friend K. told me this weekend he has LYME DISEASE. I also know someone who actually has WEST NILE. As my father likes to say, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get you. Hopefully it's nothing. Last night I went looking for the offender under the bed and found an ICKY SPIDER NEST. I slayed the beast, but I'm telling you people, spiders are rampant this season - hit under the bed with a broom and some RAID before you retire again. EW!

Finally, now that we are downtown, it takes a LONG WALK to get from one's car to one's cube. It probably takes me around eight minutes to do the job. But please - this morning I saw a woman actually carrying a carved, wooden walking stick. Was she joking?

That's it for today. I will now pause to let my head fill with random observations for tomorrow.

Yesterday, we had an "all-hands" meeting at the Kansas City Zoological Gardens, which is a fancy-schmancy name for the zoo. Apparently earlier that morning, someone (presumably not the animals) had stolen the continental breakfast, resulting in a near breakdown for the meeting organizer. Luckily, the goods showed up before I arrived.

After about three mind-numbing hours of PowerPoint presentations, we were allowed outside for more "teambuilding," which is an adult term for recess. After about thirty seconds outside in the 70-degree September air and sunshine, my soul was salved of all corporate BS. I felt like a million dollars. Which brought about the realization that I almost never go outside during the workday. If I do, it's for five seconds on my way to some other silo of recycled air.

Adults need recess! I hadn't realized how much I miss it. Despite the fact that it now takes me 15 minutes to get from my desk to the outside air, I am going to try very hard to take recess at least once a day from now on. Notes next week on whether or not I am just full of my own hot air. Hopefully the other penned animals in the 32nd floor zoo will join me.

Yesterday, the idiots at Oz decided to start my baby on solids. She has never eaten solids before, primarily because I was allergic to everything on God's green earth as a child. Her pediatrician recommended we wait until she is six months old, which is not for another week.

Okay, so she was going to start them soon anyway.

Okay, so very few babies are allergic to rice cereal.

I still want someone's ass in a sling. Here's why:

Having to go back to work and putting the little angel at Oz made me feel a) like a bad mother and b) very helpless, like I had lost control. I am a control freak - ask anyone. Turning her care over to any other unrelated human being (or even some who are related) makes my skin crawl. Finding out they decided to make parenting decisions while I unknowningly toiled at my stupid cube makes me furious.

I chose Oz over in-home daycare because I assumed the director was IN CHARGE. That there were POLICIES AND PROCEDURES. When my beloved dropped the little angel off this morning - OVER MY DEAD BODY, OOPS I HAVE TO EARN - the director was beside herself with concern. She apparently called the offender at home and asked why she gave the little angel cereal. "Because she was fussy" was the answer. What's next? Little Jack's Ridalin?

Okay, I can hear all the counterarguments already. I can't control everything that happens in her life. This is just the first step in a long series of disappointments as a mother. I can always give her her second first taste of cereal this weekend. What's done is done.

It doesn't make me not want to cry if I think too hard about what happened yesterday. It doesn't make me feel like a better mama. I never realized I could love another person this much, and I never realized I could feel so utterly and totally deflated when she has a big moment without me. This mama thing sure is hard.

My company decided that it needed the space where my department sits to house other, more important people, so this weekend, we are moving downtown. I am happy and sad about this. I'm happy because I will get to sit next to a window on the 32nd floor of a mostly glass building. I'm sad because it will destroy the beautious nine-minute commute I have been enjoying for the past few years.

To prepare for this move, we had a scheduled tour earlier this week. Unbeknownst to me, the tour included PHONE TRAINING. Few phrases, other than maybe "freezing drizzle," can inspire more dread in me than "{insert HR phrase here} training." I HATE being trained. It reminds me of high school.

The woman in charge of our phone training informed us right off the bat that she wasn't the REAL trainer, but a substitute who had been called in at the last minute. I wondered if she was like my mom, who is an elementary school substitute teacher, who trains herself to answer the phone at 6 a.m. on one ring and always irons clothes the night before JUST IN CASE. Had this woman been eagerly sitting by the phone in the wee hours before dawn, hoping against hope for the chance to do our phone training? Based on her attitude, I think not.

We began the training. There were about ten of us. The other side of the room came from the financial department. Ever notice how financial analysts regress faster than other adults during phone training? I wouldn't have suspected it either, but those bean counters really know how to party down when released from their calculators. They thought it would be really funny to conference everyone in on their phones, then hang up REALLY FAST. I grew weary of the whole encounter rather quickly and began whispering my envy of my co-worker's cookie, and the teacher actually CLAPPED HER HANDS at me. I couldn't believe it! I, dedicated phone learnee, reprimanded by the reluctant phone sub. The injustice of the world stung. It just stung.

Forty minutes later, phone training was over, and we were out of the building. It was kind of like a bad dream. I'm afraid to see the phone on Monday morning.

I think playing Peek-a-Boo makes me feel about as stupid as anything I have done as a new parent. Really, you CAN'T look cool playing that game. Especially in public. I'm not sure what about it is so hilarious, either, but it does have one redeeming quality: It taught the little angel how to laugh.

I have been playing Peek-a-Boo now for about a month, at the bequest of all the early-childhood literature. Something about object permanence, oh, I forget. Anyway, tickle and play Peek-a-Boo. So I have been, with no real interest on the little angel's part. Until last night. Last night, she decided it was about the best thing she'd seen since Reno 911 and started laughing, LAUGHING OUT LOUD when I did it. My beloved actually came rushing out of the kitchen. "What's that sound?" he asked, wielding canned chili. We were both shocked. It is a little disconcerting to have your squishy blob baby suddenly start acting like a human being overnight, holding her head up and MOVING and LAUGHING and things. Totally weird. And totally wonderful. ha ha ha ha

I think playing Peek-a-Boo makes me feel about as stupid as anything I have done as a new parent. Really, you CAN'T look cool playing that game. Especially in public. I'm not sure what about it is so hilarious, either, but it does have one redeeming quality: It taught the little angel how to laugh.

I have been playing Peek-a-Boo now for about a month, at the bequest of all the early-childhood literature. Something about object permanence, oh, I forget. Anyway, tickle and play Peek-a-Boo. So I have been, with no real interest on the little angel's part. Until last night. Last night, she decided it was about the best thing she'd seen since Reno 911 and started laughing, LAUGHING OUT LOUD when I did it. My beloved actually came rushing out of the kitchen. "What's that sound?" he asked, wielding canned chili. We were both shocked. It is a little disconcerting to have your squishy blob baby suddenly start acting like a human being overnight, holding her head up and MOVING and LAUGHING and things. Totally weird. And totally wonderful. ha ha ha ha