Woohoo! We're going to be on TV.
A local production company shot the footage this morning; whether or not they use it remains to be seen. Basically, the company wanted to film a family as they professed their love for Connecticut.
(Nothing contrived about that.)
They chose us.
Saying I loved Connecticut proved to be more difficult than I'd thought it would be. I don't love this state. The director had to remind me several times not to scowl/grimace/vomit after my "I love Connecticut" line.
Ok, every time.
As part of the shoot, the director also asked me to wax poetic about my early mornings with Diddly. He asked what it was like to watch the town of Mulletville wake up. Before this morning I hadn't really thought about it, except in that Oh-my-gawd-it's-fucking-5:30-am-and-I'm-awake kind of way.
But it's true. For the last month, I've watched Mulletville come to life. Our bedroom window overlooks Main Street, and sometimes as I'm shoving my bosom or a bottle in Diddly's face I look out and see Mulletheads making their way home from the bars. The sky brightens. Church bells ring. School buses rumble by. Neighbors shovel.
It's quaint. It's peaceful. It's magically delicious.
My step-sister once told me that she missed the late night feedings with her children because the world was silent and it was just her and her baby. It felt like they were the only two in the world. She'd even called it blissful. At the time I'd scoffed.
I get it now.
And possibly, the dark canyons under my eyes will mean that Connecticut television viewers get it too.
(Anyone else humming "I Got You Babe"?) Yah, me too.