I had originally thought that Waltzing Matilda would be a clever and obscure allusion to the supposed violence and mayhem of my past, and I could post all sorts of neat man-things here about guns and chicks and hiking and COIN and pirates, and all other sorts of neat topcs that people with only one X-chromosome seem to enjoy.
However, I found that having a kid suddenly limits your interests to Boppys, diaper changing and breast-feeding (on second thought - that last one probably qualified for the earlier incarnation). And to tell the truth, I am so insanely proud of my little boy that he's pretty much all I ever think to write about.
Take last night, for instance - there I was, pacing the floor at 2am with Jack nestled in my arms. And by 4am, I had a giant cramp in my back and shoulder and he still hadn't stopped crying, and I was still walking back and forth between the kitchen, the den, and the living room, praying that Kim was at least getting some sleep. And I had the thought that my new favorite nocturnal activity (N.B.: favorite = most frequent, not most enjoyable) could very well be described as a sort of "Waltzing Matilda." I mean, I do have this little package of goodness to take care of, and the only thing that seems to make him happy in the dark of the night is the weird little stumbling two-step that I do across the shadowy kitchen floor.
So for now, there are TWO Waltzing Matildas. Enjoy.