On Tuesday nights, I teach composition at a local community college. It's Comp I, and they all admitted on the first day of class that they are only there to fulfill a graduation requirement. Still, it's nice to talk about writing for three hours straight even if your conversation partners are less than enthralled.

Last night, I decided to go out on a limb. We were preparing for a reaction paper essay, which will be due next month. Up until now, they've been writing position and profile essays. However, I think the reaction essay will really be what they use for most of their academic careers. They have no idea how to cite things, no clue about MLA style and no interest in either. So I thought I'd lob them a soft one to start out with - my own work.

I was a little nervous that my short story, "Some Kind of Samson," wouldn't stand up to the tenets of good reaction papers. What if it didn't have an obvious theme? What if the characters weren't developed enough for a position? Egads - what if there were no context clues? I didn't tell them it was mine until after we'd discussed it for about forty-five minutes, after it had actually held up to most of the tests. One student said as soon as she'd finished it that she really liked it. It was the first thing she said she liked all semester.

I floated all the way home. Maybe publication isn't as important as readership. Maybe more people read my story last night than would have had it made the 132nd page of a slick literary magazine. Maybe not, but I like to console myself with that supposition.

This morning when I dropped the little angel off at Oz, I heard what I have been dreading all fall: "We seem to have a flu bug going around."

I., the little angel's morning teacher, was worried. She didn't want to get sick. She didn't want her babies to get sick. But two babies and a teacher were out for the count from Infant II. We are supposed to go out of town this weekend to see my husband's family and cheer on the Iowa Hawkeyes. My beloved will CRY if we can't go. I'm trying to think positive thoughts.

I called my mother on the way to work so that she could talk me off the ledge. She explained the fever-busting power of children's Tylenol and the way pediatricians do tend to call you back if your baby is sick. I had forgotten all these details in my panic. Then she said the best thing, the thing that I had secretly been hoping for: "If she gets REALLY sick, I can always come down to coach you through it."

It's times like these that I really, really wish my parents lived in Kansas City. I jealously listen to those lucky souls whose mothers are only a short car ride away and can be counted on for in-person parenting advice. I see the benefit of having them 2.5 hours away, as well (it is nice to have one's own life, after all), but the first baby can reduce an otherwise bring-home-the-bacon-fry-it-up-in-a-pan modern woman to a sniveling mess when the little angel spikes a fever. The mere thought of that happening really makes me want my mommy.

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.