My Ladies

We got some good pics of Caroline today, while Jack is spending some quality time at Camp Sparty. While I am sure he is enjoying playing with "Activities Director" Bud, I sure am enjoying getting to hang out with my girls.

More pics to follow.

Updated 5:15pm! Album is here.

I call this one "Princess Spread Eagle" of the noble Saxapawhaw Nation

Peaceful beginnings

Thanks to the amazing photography of my old coach, Joel Furtek, I have been reminiscing on a part of my life that is long since past but that I still treasure dearly.  It just isn't possible to put into words all that my days rowing for UNC did to shape who I have become, but suffice it to say that it has probably been the most pivotal experience of my life.  Even compared to becoming a doctor, a wife, and a mother, rowing very literally unzipped the infant version of the person I am still becoming.  It led me to my lifelong friends, my husband, and my career, but I think most importantly, it taught me that no matter how isolatingly painful the work at hand may be, I am never going it alone and there are always people with me that depend on my ability to hold it together and find the humor and joy in the world that is rushing by not 6 inches from the gunnel.  There is just nothing more peaceful or re-energizing than skimming across a flat body of water, cutting through a cool misty fog with the pink glow of morning just beginning its dance across the horizon, and listening to the heartbeat of eight separate oars move the shell like one single organism. And to walk away one day, with the 'thunk' of the oarlocks and the splash of the catch still echoing in your mind, even years and years down the road.

My best accessory

Jackson likes to be involved.

Very involved.

Tradition!

Who, day and night, must scramble for a living,
Feed a wife and children, say his daily prayers?
And who has the right, as master of the house,
To have the final word at home?

The Papa, the Papa! Tradition.
The Papa, the Papa! Tradition.

Who must know the way to make a proper home,
A quiet home, a kosher home?
Who must raise the family and run the home,
So Papa's free to read the holy books?

The Mama, the Mama! Tradition!
The Mama, the Mama! Tradition!

I had to laugh a bit tonight when Doc raised her eyebrows at my invocation tonight of "The Papa, the Papa! - Tradition!" Of course I didn't realize she hadn't seen the movie. L'll be the first to admit that my comments were a little (ok, a lot) tongue-in-cheek, since there is only one person in this house with a job and it ain't Good Ol' Matilda. But it is the very fact that we have our own very wonderful traditions - partnership, equality, appreciation - that makes this sort of exchange something we can really laugh at. Kaynahorah!

Weekend with Mom

Stephen spent this beautiful snowy weekend in Washington DC so Jack and I got to have two entire days all to ourselves. My, what one can learn in a weekend...

I don't know if it's just that Jack is growing at lightning speeds or I haven't really had the chance lately to spend 48 straight hours completely dedicated to being with him, but I swear I learned so much about him this weekend that I didn't know.

For starters, he can walk. Well, sort of. He can take a few unassisted steps before lunging at his stuffed animals...or me. He can sing. We were watching Faith Hill's Christmas Special and I realized as I was humming along that he was too. He can spin in circles on his bum. For hours. He loves, and I mean loves, to hear me make animal noises. Quack quack is his favorite. Arf arf is second. He smiles

with all of his teeth, now, and he gives of that smile freely. He will never go outside a 20 foot radius from me although he likes to get just out of sight long enough for me to say, "Where's Jack?" and he comes flying around the corner and into my lap. He needs periodic and regular hugs, about every 5-1o minutes. When upset, he has to be sitting in my lap. Not just touching me or sitting next to me, but on my lap squarely. If he's really upset, whilst on my lap, he needs to suck his thumb and hold his monkey at the same time for at least 1 minute.

He giggles at himself (or something that none of the rest of us can see) all the time. When he concentrates, he breathes very loudly and deliberately out of his nose and then laughs about it. He can say "Ma-ma" "Dad-dee" "Da-da" "Dean-Da" and "neh neh" (which is "more"). He loves to look out the window and watch birds or people or just the wind blow through the trees. He is very tenderhearted and likes constant reassurance. He understands "no no" and will almost always obey it after the 2nd (and sometimes 3rd) "did you really mean no, exactly?"

attempt. And when he goes back to said "no no" object after a few minutes, he always looks at me first to be sure I still mean it.

He loves my cell phone and now when I say, "Can you call Daddy?" he will put it up to his ear and smile. He will throw a ball back and forth for upwards of 5 minutes, which is an eternity for a 10 month old. He will even add Dean into the throwing party and Dean will very politely sit and roll it back. Speaking of Dean, he likes to share his food with him, either by handing it to him or letting Dean eat it out of his mouth. He likes to get my attention by saying, "Aya ya ya!" and

laughing when I look over at him and say, "Is that so?" He loves bath time but isn't a big fan of teeth-brushing time. He will take a nap without a fuss as long as I put two books in his crib with him. He likes to flirt with ladies at the store, especially the large ones.

I know he is only 10 months old, but I can already see the kind of person he is going to become and it is exactly like his father. His heart is big and soft. He thrives on affection and sweet conversation. He does not like to have someone cross with him. He will be funny and love to laugh. He will be awkward at first and because of that he will need some help to be as confident as he can be. He will never be arrogant. He will always need my hugs. At least I hope so.

I love you, Jackson. More today than yesterday and more tomorrow than ever before. Thank you for such a wonderful weekend.

My Baby's a Winner

So its a boys weekend in the Matilda household - just me, Jack and Dean-o. I think we'll survive, but we sure do miss our girl. Guess we'll just have to watch a lot of basketball on TV.

Doc took off to Asheville NC for the NC Academy of Family Physicians Winter Conference. Besides getting to spend this weekend at the Grove Park Inn drooling over all of the yummy gingerbread houses, she's fixin' to get honorificated for all of her good works. That's right, loyal readers - Doc has been awarded the Most Outstanding Resident of the Year by the NCAFP for Moses Cone. That's pretty sweet, and definitely an honor she deserves.

Doc, first day on the job in July 2007. She was

the Most Outstanding from the very beginning.

Reconstituted

I met them in 1997. Some of us weren't even 18 yet. We were tall, excited, diverse freshmen propelled by our height to try something new. We had no clue what going out to that faithful lake on the outskirts of Carrboro would mean for our lives, both in the few short years at UNC and for the lifetime that lay on the other side of graduation.

I'm not sure exactly when in that first year these girls became an indelible part of my firmament. Perhaps it was in Pam's van at 4:45am or at the bridge with Ports to row and Starboards to back or maybe in the kitchen at Vance Street. At any rate, it happened and we've somehow managed to see each other almost semi-annually since graduation, despite being on opposite coasts with insanely busy work schedules. Through showers and weddings and graduations and now babies, we just pick right up where we left off and the hours fly by unnoticed.

This weekend was just such an occasion. The stars aligned and we were all able to meet at Lake Lure for a very brief but amazingly soul-soothing and much-needed weekend.

We've grown a bit since we met 12 years ago. There were nine of us this weekend...well ten if you count the newest and still-forming addition to our happy menagerie. Between us we have a photographer, an SF medic, a paleontologist, two engineers, a pediatrician, a family practitioner, an (almost) attorney, two insanely energetic but amazingly well behaved canines, two very quirky felines, and a snaggle-toothed 9-month old fondly referred to as 'Green 11.'

The topic of blessings came up this weekend, as it so often does when we four get together. We do a very good job of appreciating the momentous gifts we've been given and enjoying the love and laughter and happiness we all share. But, sometimes, one does have to wonder why some seem to have it so exceptionally good. Have we been given all of this to serve a higher purpose or is this a reward from past lives well lived? Have we unknowingly cultivated the foundation and are now reaping the harvest or were we just lucky enough to be born at the right place in the right time? Does one get a blessings limit, so to speak, or does one beget another like a glorious snowball?

My mother used to say "Things turn out best for people who make the best of the way things turn out." And while I think this is a brilliant observation, it does seem like the four of us have been bestowed an incredibly well-stacked hand. The purpose of this I have yet to identify, but I figure as long as I enjoy the heck out of my life now, it will all become clear at some point.

In the mean time, blessed I am and grateful I will always be.

Thank you Heather, Steph, and Rae (and Andras, Dan, and Matt).

Time with you always recharges me.

Turning the corner...literally.

It happened so fast. One day he was inch-worming and the next day he pushed up on all fours and took off and he has not been stationary since. The kid loves to crawl. In fact, he loves to do anything non-baby, like stand and cruise and chew adult foods. Forget baby food, he wants spaghetti and crackers and real whole veggies. Heaven forbid I try to give him mush. He gives me one chance where he fake chews it as if to say, "No Momma, chew. I want to chew. See?" If I persist with the puree, he slobbers it all onto the highchair tray and then swirls it around with his hands just to reiterate the point.

Getting ready in the morning before work has become like trying to put a hat on a monkey hanging upside down in a snowstorm. Stephen and I are doing well if we manage to get clothes on that match. Oh it'd be super easy if we let him have the electrical cords or the laptop or let him crawl into the bathtub unassisted. But alas, we do care about the little man's safety and so we corral and redirect and entertain with Stephen's old cell phone or my sunglasses or, when it really gets difficult to entertain him, my new leopard print slippers that now have drool stains on them.

Despite how different our lives have become in one short week, there's just not anything more heartwarming than watching Jackson crawl around to find me and smile up with the biggest "I found you, Momma!" grin when he does.



Welcome to mobility, my little one. May you always be able to find everything you want just right around the corner.

Three Years

Three years seems like such a long time, but while some hours are longer than others, the days fly by into weeks and months like the whitecaps rolling in off the ocean, and soon where you started is but a speck on the horizon. And yet, every morning that horizon serves its intended purpose, welcoming the sunrise and parting sea from sky as it will all the days to come.

Three years ago today we wed. And so much fun we've had since then, degrees and homes and jobs and dogs and Jack and twice as much family as ever before and all this is still just a drop in the bucket of happiness that awaits the decades to come. At twenty years, will we remember what three felt like? Maybe, maybe not. But I guarantee I'll remember h-hour, d-day. Who could forget that smile?

Three years ago, we passed a little poem out among our friends and family. Legend has it that Robert Frost penned this gem, The Master Speed, for his daughter's wedding.1 And yes, we shamelessly stole it for our own wedding programs' epigraph. And I'll steal it again, year after year. Because, and this will always be the truth: we may not be as fast as we once were, in days of yore / but we are still together, wing to wing and oar to oar.

The Master Speed by Robert Frost

No speed of wind or water rushing by
But you have speed far greater. You can climb
Back up a stream of radiance to the sky,
And back through history up the stream of time.
And you were given this swiftness, not for haste
Nor chiefly that you may go where you will,
But in the rush of everything to waste,
That you may have the power of standing still—
Off any still or moving thing you say.
Two such as you with such a master speed
Cannot be parted nor be swept away
From one another once you are agreed
That life is only life forevermore
Together wing to wing and oar to oar.

I love you, Kim. Happy Anniversary.

1. "The Master Speed," an epithalamium celebrating the marriage of Frost's daughter Irma to John Cone in 1926, was first published in the Yale Review in 1936 and appeared in A Further Range later that same year. See Nancy Tuten and John Zubizarreta, The Robert Frost Encyclopedia (Greenwood, 2000). An interesting explication of this poem can be found here.

David Gerald Dilda Sr

He would have been 63 years old today.

Wherever you are, I hope you're getting to watch your namesake grow up. He looks just like you and I have a feeling he's got a lot of your personality in him, too.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

Waltzing Matilda, redux

I recently asked my wife (Doc) to join me on this blog. I mean, she is the primary breadwinner in the family. (I learned in class last week that if you factor in my amount of student debt, I am technically insolvent!) Anyway, I thought I would comment on the blog's original title in light of the past few weeks' activities.

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.