Just wild about Harry...and running, of course!

Ten years ago this month, I was pregnant: large, hot and miserable. Oh, and I had a 2-year-old son to boot.

I decided to pick up this Harry Potter series I had heard so much about. There were three books out so far (I think) and kids were going insane over them. I figured that at some point my toddler and the new baby would want to read them, so maybe I should take a look at them first.

I was hooked. I sped through the ones available and then was upset because I had to wait so long for the next one.

Last night, my now-12-year-old son and I went to the midnight showing of the last Harry Potter movie. I was a bit nervous about the whole thing, I'll admit. Crowds of people make me nervous, and I haven't stayed up past midnight in a while. But I'll do just about anything for my boy, so midnight it was.

We had an absolute blast. We got to the theater around 9:30 p.m., got some popcorn, drinks, and settled down in line to wait. Yeah, we sat down on the impossibly dirty theater lobby floor. Yes, we tossed popcorn back and forth to see who could catch in his or her mouth. We each drank a bucket of our beverage of choice. We took pictures of each other with my cell phone and my camera, hands holding up our bangs so our lightning-bolt scars were visible.

We talked about our favorite books and which movie we liked the best. We made up disgusting names for the movies ("Harry Pooter and the Deathly Farts, Part Toot: The Farting" was our best effort; "Harry Pooter and the Goblet of Farts" was second.). I got Kyle to pick who was hotter, Ginny Weasley or Hermione (he picked Hermione). He tried to get me to pick between Harry and Ron (I picked Neville Longbottom; have you seen the pictures of him at the premieres???).

We practiced our home run calls for when we become the first mother-son anchor team on SportsCenter (it could happen!). We perfected our art of fake fighting.

We got the perfect seats for the movie. We whispered back and forth (mainly me) with questions. We both were grossed out by the same thing (won't spoil it for you).

We left the theater at 2:15 a.m. with huge smiles on our faces. Kyle held my hand without rolling his eyes while we crossed the parking lot. We talked about the movie all the way home.

And once we got home, Kyle did his bedtime routine and then hunted me down in the laundry room.

"Mom, I had such a good time. Thank you for taking me," he said, with a hug that left me breathless (when did that 2-year-old get to be so strong?).

It was worth it. Worth it, worth it, worth it. It always is, for the two of them.

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So I got into bed around 2:45 a.m. I set my alarm for 5:30 a.m.

And I woke up at 5:20 a.m. I didn't give myself a chance. I got right out of bed, put on my running clothes and off I went. Six miles.

I had to do it. I couldn't let myself make any excuses. I couldn't let myself talk me out of it.

I had to do it.