Loren transitioning to a big boy toddler bed; Ruthie only waking up once a night for several nights in a row; We’re on the receiving end of the single biggest check I expect to see in my entire life; And I’ve been contacted by a production company in LA about starring in a new reality TV series about modern stay-at-home dads.
Needless to say, my head is buzzing with excitement today. Any one of these is a singular event worthy of my total focus. Combined, I am almost completely overwhelmed to the point of being at a loss for words (which is saying something if you’ve been following this blog for any amount of time).
I’ll get to the others later this week, but for now I’ll just try to tackle the biggest, most absurd and least likely to actually happen of these developments (so I have to assume, or the world is just crazy and I don’t get it anymore): The reality show. I was contacted last week by the casting folks for an upcoming show that intends to follow around “modern” stay-at-home dads. They found me via my SlowMama posts. We spoke for a half-hour about what I’m like and “why America might fall in love with Jimmy” (I kid you not, that was part of the interview, and my head now requires lubrication to fit through most standard door frames). Things seemed to go pretty well, and despite having never actually considered such a possibility for even a second, I am now convinced that this is probably my life’s calling. It’s funny how quickly I can get my hopes into something without previously knowing that it existed.
The chances of this actually happening are so small that I’m ok laying the jinx on it – because seriously, I am or hope to be many things, but reality TV sensation/pin-up DILF was never really one of them. If it doesn’t happen, I’ll just say I was honored to be considered, cry myself to sleep and go back to speaking to Natalie on equal terms, no longer referring to myself in the third person or refusing to do household chores.
Of course, if it does happen….lvnekjvw;vbwjvbq. It’s so ridiculous to even consider what it would mean or how things would be. You can bet your bottom that I’d live-blog the whole thing (which probably wouldn’t make for the best television now that I think about it).
The big question, of course, is whether America is ready to invite my perpetually un-showered, borderline hermit, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants parenting into their households. You’ll know as soon as I do.
In the meantime, I’m kicking into hyper-drive dreamer mode. The extended family Davis Clan spin-off is already working its way around my brain. I just need to figure out whether we’ll be liable for giving the language censorship guy carpal tunnel syndrome after they film the big all-siblings-on-deck family dinners. George Carlin would blush. And my dad would bang on the table, attempting (unsuccessfully) to bring us to order, while only rattling the silverware instead.by