Okay. The Boy keeps coming up with new projects to keep him from understanding Movable Type...and I'm starting to feel that if I have to wrestle with a plain-text entry template one more day, I'm going to lose my goddamned mind. So here we are. As the description says, it's the quick-n-dirty middle ground between being a strong, pioneering webwomyn & being a big pussy. This, in case you're wondering, is the big pussy stage. Movable Type is actually harder to understand than plain text coding - or at least, that's how it seemed to me when I gave the hell up last summer. I thought, gee, the Boy likes to fool around with esoteric computer stuff! He'd LOVE to learn MT! But it got hard for him too.

So here we are instead.

(The Boy would like to interject at this point to underline the fact that at the moment he is completing 6 university courses and "learning how to be a parent." We now return you to my regularly scheduled selfishness.)

Hmm. For some reason, this is bringing back strong memories of my very first year online. Just me, a bunch of words in my head, a free website (for now), a series of entries that proceed backwards in chronological order (how the "old-timers" yelled at me for that!) and a huge dearth of experience.

* * *

A quick story from today:

Today was our big baby supply shopping trip morning. We'd been putting off the expedition until after I finished school, because, well, I was too stressed out with the effort of going on maternity leave to include one more thing in my brain or in my filthy apartment.

(Teachers will understand; it's like trying to leave notes for 60 consecutive days of substitute teaching. For any non-teachers, know simply what teachers learn very early on, i.e. that the effort of leaving enough material for one full day is usually more stressful than suffering through an entire teaching day with a mild illness.)

But my last day of teaching was yesterday, neatly coinciding with my first day at full-term (i.e. the baby could be born at any minute). So I kind of had to push the stress aside for one morning and go shopping. We did really well, too - we spent a car load of money, but we got a lot of needed stuff. We now have 2 dozen flat cloth diapers; 1 dozen plastic, cotton-lined covers (one with frogs that wear wizard hats!); 2 nursing bras and a dozen cloth nursing pads; a nursing nightgown with a matching baby sleeper; lanolin (I was a bit iffy about this, but it's lanolin. I can always give it to a dairy farmer or something); two tricksy lenses for our clunky old camera; black and white film; 30 bed pads; feminine hygiene products for the labour & olive oil (ditto).

What does all of this mean? Well, it means that I can stop worrying about diapers every time I plunge into a Braxton-Hicks contraction. Other than that, not much to a non-parent. Except that we're almost there. Now that my belly button has reversed itself, completing this kind of shopping is a Very Good Thing.

On the way to my parents, we drove through one of Toronto's Jewish neighbourhoods. The Boy was just agog at all the men in wide-brimmed hats and little ones in yarmulkes.

"You need to get out more," I said.

* * *

Our crib is together! Now we need a mattress...

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 11/08/2003 04:19:00 p.m.