By the time I started to have kids in my late 30's, I was 100 percent ready to be a mom. Once it finally happened with Dax, it was rare for anyone to hear me complain about not "having time for myself". I had wanted children for so long that when it finally happened, I found turning the focus from myself to another human being didn't feel like a sacrifice at all, it felt good and it felt right. And now the second bundle of cooing bubbles is here and again, I'm ready.
But there has been a shift in me and that shift has to do with making myself a priority again because if I don't, my emotional and physical health will suffer. I can't have motherhood be the only thing that defines this once very complex human being, ME! (I know Dax wouldn't believe it but I do have passions and interests outside of potty training, playgrounds, and Rec Center pools.)
I'm making a commitment to myself to set aside a few minutes to a few hours a day to inching my way back to the old Ki. I need my kids to know who I was before they came on board and who I still am today: a B&B manager (I miss this challenging work), an avid backpacker and camper, a gourmet cook, a yoga student and once teacher, a writer and a big-time reader, a loyal friend, a tennis player (I was actually getting good before I got pregnant!), a trail runner (oh, how I miss the obstacle course of roots and rocks), a more stylish chica (the overhaul of the closet has begun!), a Spanish speaker and a decent editor. Where did I disappear to?
So now, when I wake up in the morning, I'm setting my intention for the day to find little ways to nourish my soul. I want to merge my old self with my new self as mother-of-two.
A few days ago, the nourishment came from baking Toll House cookies with Dax and letting him stir the batter, crumble the walnuts and lick the mixer spoon. Yesterday, it came from a stroller jog with Skylar preceded by a telephone conversation with my best friend and a hot chai in my hand. And it always feels great to write. I must keep it up.
I think that by taking care of Ki, great things will happen. And loved ones around me will be happier because I'm ultimately happier.

Right before Skylar was born, my life felt out of control. We had no renters for our Santa Fe home which meant going in to debt by $1,300 every month - something we could not afford to do, Dax had decided that pooping on the floor instead of his toddler potty was where he wanted to conduct his "business", and I was worried that as a couple we weren't going to be able to handle another addition to the family. As a way to comfort myself, I started to do one very simple thing: I began to sing Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds" to Dax before his daytime nap and before bedtime. The lyric, "singin' don't worry about a thing 'cause every little thing, gonna be alright' became my new mantra - if I sang it enough times, then I'd have to start believing that every little and big trouble I had would right itself. And you know what? They did. It all worked out. Repeating a mantra, saying a prayer, thinking positive thoughts are all ways to keep the irrational and terrifying fears at bay. Every time I'd start slipping in to that dark place, I'd begin to sing Marley's uplifting words. We have renters now and even better, they wire the money each month to our Wells Fargo account, Dax prefers the potty to the parquet floor and Tim and I are finally finding our rhythm in raising two boys.