Obama kisses please!

Does anyone know where I can stand at the Democratic National Convention so Barack Obama can kiss my baby? It's going to be really sad if I don't get up to Denver and stand around outside of a stadium somewhere to see (hopefully) our next future president and have him kiss my baby. He would pick mine, right? She will be the cutest one =). I'm counting on you, Filoli, to find this out for me!

Today just dragged. I was so bored and sleepy. I got a full night's sleep, which is why it was wierd that I was still so tired today. The baby was pretty normal: eat, fuss, play, fuss, sleep, fuss, play, fuss, eat, and so on. My only light was my run with Jack Quinn this afternoon. I SO looked forward to jumping into my car at 5, listening to "All Things Considered" for 25 blessed uninterrupted minutes, then going on my 5K run. My run took me about 45 minutes, 30 of which I didn't think of anything except the person in front of me I wanted to catch, but knew I never would, the person behind me I hoped wouldn't catch me again, and I didn't think a bit about the baby. Then I remembered that my new running book said that running could be a great way to work through issues you have been having. Hmmmm... I thought. What issues? Oh yeah, the baby. I thought about how I had had all of these ideas of what a great mom I would be. I would put the baby on a schedule from the beginning. She would never be addicted to a pacifier. She would sleep through the night at 8 weeks old, just like the babies in all of my baby books. And then I thought of how one by one all of my ideas came tumbling down around me. Schedule? Hah! What's a schedule? You don't need a life! Pacifier? Don't be so prideful, she's addicted to sucking the tag on her sleep sack--can't sleep without it. Sleep through the night? Not quite. She still wakes up several times "Squacking"as a mom in my library group calls it. Then I prayed, "God, help me to let go of all of these ideas I thought makes a good mommy, and help me to just be my own good mommy, whatever that is." I thought of what I would find when I got home: Shane feeding the baby. I held onto this image as I ran the last 5 blocks back to my car. When I got home I got what I really wanted. Shane was feeding the baby her dessert: peaches, and crooning whatever was on the ipod. I loved being a mommy right then, as Carissa gave me a big peachy smile.

Size 7 again!!! (Ok, you caught me out, I'm really a size 6)

I'm so freakin' excited. Today's the day that I slipped on my pre-pregnancy size seven jeans, and they fit like a glove. Not too tight, not too loose, just right. I had tried them on a week or two after having Carissa. It was disgusting--they wouldn't even come up past my knees. A month or two later I tried again, up to my hips this time. This morning I woke up and it was drizzling and 65 degrees in the house. Time to try on the jeans again. Thank you Jack Quinn's Running Club!!!

Who the heck am I?

Today I ran my first ever 5K. I sucked, I admit it. I was closer to the back of the pack than to the front. But I am so freakin proud that I actually got out there and did it. I have wondered my whole life, who the heck am I? And now that I'm a mom, without a "real job" I wonder about it even more. Leaving a full time job and becoming a full time mom can really cause an identity crisis. Am I supposed to be like those 1950's housewives who do all the cleaning, make the dinner, and kiss the husband when he comes home? Why aren't I as happy as other moms? Why am I so bored? Why don't I have a group of mommy friends to do things with? All of this pondering has caused me to try anything and do anything to help me find who I am as a mom. I've even tried running. I joined Jack Quinn's running club. Jack Quinn's is an Irish pub downtown where all sorts of people meet every Tuesday evening to run a 5K route. It turns out that I really like it. Even after feeling like I wanted to hurl after running so hard after my race this morning, this afternoon I was saying, I can't wait to try again.