I'm living in a time warp. While the majority of you are getting a solid seven or better yet, eight hours of sleep a night, those dark hours for me are comprised of vivid, sometimes troubling dreams interrupted by a small whimper that takes me from REM to a robot-feeding mama in seconds.
When one doesn't get enough sleep, weird things happen. You start to feel like you're on the rim of reality looking in but you're not actively participating in every day events. You see life unfolding as it should but you're not 100% there to a: enjoy it and b: remember it.
It struck me the other day that since Skylar was born I've gained a gorgeous, healthy, smiling bundle of coos but simultaneously lost my life as it once was. I gave up my shifts at the restaurant - and how I miss the staff, the comraderie and the money - I've lost my Sunday yoga class, my book group, my bunco buddies, my tennis matches, my physique (though I'm now back in to two pairs of pre-pregnancy jeans) my one-on-one adventures with sweet Daxie, and like I said at the start of this blog, my head. That's a lot to give up.
When it hit me the other day that so many of my favorite things were being put on hold, I had a momentary freak out. I frantically shot off emails at 11pm one evening to those friends and acquaintances I knew could help pull me back in. I wrote the book club chair and said I was committing to being there for the December meeting. She wrote back and said my vote would break the tie on which night to meet on. I felt empowered. I can't wait to discuss the tawdry prose of Wifey by Judy Blume.
Next I wrote my mom's group president and said I'd be at the next play date. We went and had a terrific time. I got to talk to moms about mom's stuff and Dax got to make a turkey out of construction paper and play with Tonka toys. And when I asked a new acquaintance of mine from Dax's school about the cardio class she was taking at the Rec Center, it inspired me to commit to going too. While we sculpt our bodies, our kids get to play together in the center's daycare space. They have a crush on each other. It's perfect.
And I know that what is going to finally make me feel like I'm back in sync with the rest of the world is re-entering the work force. I have zero regrets about being home with my children. I feel lucky to not have missed out on one minute of these early years. Every day is an adventure with them. Today, for example, I watched as Dax bravely took the water slide at the local indoor pool and each time he waded out of the water, he'd look to me for approval and a smile. I felt so happy I could be there to do that and to cheer him on.
What I'm wrestling with still is figuring out what work is going to utilize my skills and leave me feeling sated and ultimately happy.
It feels good to be slowly emerging from this weird, alternative universe. I like the real world a whole lot better.

Here are a few of my favorite things (and some products to stay far away from):

LOVE the new Aveeno Fig & Shea Butter moisturizing body wash - the heavenly smell lingers on my skin long after a hot shower.

HATE the Aveeno Clear Complexion Cream Cleanser (the micro beads are too small and too few and they do nothing to help exfoliate the skin. It's also very drying which causes the face to produce more oil and thus the purpose of "fighting pimples" is defeated.)

LOVE Bumble and Bumble Seaweed Shampoo - this moisturizing shampoo is light enough to use every day - it does not weigh my hair down. A superior product.

HATE Garnier Fructis - these products are heavily marketed and come in beautiful packaging but I think they are sub-par at best. It's amazing how many negative blogs there are on-line discussing the high price point and disappointing results. I would get a rash on my neck whenever I used the shampoo or conditioner. Yuck.

LOVE any Mustela products for my kids - fantastic scents, no parabens, amazing lather and zero tears. Gotta love it.

This entry is about body image.
I was one of those rare teenage girls who actually liked the way her body looked. I was 5'4" and 110 pounds and I never worried about fat and calories. I could polish off an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's Super Fudge Chunk after field hockey or downhill ski racing practice and then, always to my mother's surprise, sit down to dinner and finish my plate. I burned calories faster than a hummingbird. One friend described my quick movements as "flittering". He said I didn't know how to walk from one place to the next, rather I ran.
In college, there was no freshman 15 found on this lean frame. My cranked-up metabolism allowed me to drink keg beer, eat gravy fries, and even spend a semester abroad in Spain where fried churros and thick, hot chocolate that had to be eaten with a spoon were my go-to midday snacks. And still, a large butt, belly rolls, and back fat stayed far, far away.
My mom warned me that once I hit my 30's, the pounds would start to pack on. She said it happened to her. On deaf ears, she was trying to tell me that a woman's body changes. Well, she was right to some extent. My boyish figure morphed into one with curves and breasts which made me like my figure more, especially in a bikini or cut-off jean shorts.
Then in my late 30's I hit a depressive low with my divorce and gained some extra weight. It came from making myself elaborate dinners for one and drinking more red wine than I should have. But trail running in Santa Fe before work with friends and sticking to the Atkins Diet for a few weeks had me back to my ideal weight again. I lost 11 pounds just like that. Piece of cake.
And then it happened. I had my second child this past July and even the breast feeding isn't melting the pregnancy weight gain away as fast as I'd like it to. You mean, I'm going to have to actually work at losing weight? Currently, I'm looking at having to lose 15 pounds to get back to my "cosmopolitan self" as my OB/GYN describes it. For me, this is almost an insurmountable amount of weight to have to lose. I mean, this is what Skylar weighs himself and I have to shed that from my body?
To all the women out there who have always struggled with their weight, I now have the utmost empathy for you. I get it. It sucks to have a friend or family member look you up and down from head to toe with a bit of disgust in their eyes. Suddenly, I feel like the fat girl sitting on the gym bleachers not being asked to slow dance.
In order to get back to my ideal weight, I'm taking my (fat) ass to the Rec Center every week and hitting the treadmill, hiking steep trails with Skylar in the Bjorn, cleaning my house with a frenzy (this burns some serious calories)and trying to eat a more Mediterranean diet of salads with feta, tomatoes, olives, red onion and always a lean protein on top. With breast feeding, I'm not looking to cut out a ton of calories. But I am committed to exercising more, eating well, and doing my 60 sit-ups a day to get my body back to beautiful. I've never been so ready for a challenge. Pretty soon those disdainful stares will turn in to ones of admiration and envy.

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.

Skylar turned five weeks this past Sunday and amazingly, he is already showing his personality. He squeaks, squawks, coos, whimpers, meows, sneezes, hiccups, and best of all, he now smiles these big circle smiles while squinting up his eyes. He always wants to be held - vibrate seats, swings, and play gym mats don't cut it - he wants the warmth of a body and a beating heartbeat. With a little head or back rub, Skylar can fall asleep in anyone's arms. When he's hungry, he brings his little fists up to his mouth and he looks like a squirrel nibbling on a handful of acorns. He excitedly starts kicking and waving his arms when Dax comes near and doesn't protest too much when his big brother plants a wet one on his lips or lays his hands on his cheeks. He's a light sleeper and prefers sleeping on his belly to his back just like the rest of his family. He hates being swaddled (I thought ALL babies like being swaddled!) and if a noise is more sudden than it is even loud, he jumps out of his skin. He gives his daddy a big sideways grin in the mornings when he first lays eyes on him and is ticklish everywhere, especially the neck and behind his meaty thighs. He's already growing out of newborn onesies and even 0-3 month clothing is fitting snug. His wave machine knocks him in to a deep sleep and he's learning how to push the binki (he ONLY likes the green hospital "soothies") back in to his mouth by using his fist. He's starting to rock on to his side and back and he can follow a voice or a face across the room. Of course I'm going to sound like a proud mother when I say this, but I swear he already knows his name and Dax's name and when he looks at me with those dark blue eyes, I'm sensing he understands a lot more than he's able to articulate! I can't wait to see what the next five weeks brings.

Both my sweet boys are sleeping so I thought I'd finally update my blog for the first time since giving birth to Skylar Drake Murrell.
I can't believe our second son is finally here and he's healthy, robust, and just bursting with cuteness from his fingers to his tiny toes. I gained just about 40 pounds in my pregnancy and when the labor and delivery nurse noted what a big baby he was as he was entering in to this fine world, I realized where a lot of this weight had gone. He was 8 1/2 pounds at birth and when given his first taste of milk, he latched on with a powerful clamp. Ah, now I've witnessed with my own eyes how much easier full term babies are than early babies. Skylar latched right away, sleeps well, has nice fat on him for warmth and has a very congenial disposition. Dax was three weeks early and didn't have the muscles in his mouth to latch properly (it took him two months to breastfeed), his tear ducts weren't fully developed and so his eyes clogged easily, he needed to eat ALL the time because he was making up for his small stature and he had breast milk allergies to my dairy intake. And it goes on and on. I am so thankful that Skylar made it to 40 weeks and one day - the time incubating has helped him enormously. And unlike going totally natural with Dax during the delivery, I opted for the epidural this time and I've never been so happy with such a decision. I was able to enjoy and remember Skylar's birth and I feel like as a result, he came out less stressed and healthier because of it. I earned my badge of honor going au natural with Daxie - but this time, I knew I needed my pain to be mitigated. I made a promise to myself that I was not going to end up on the floor on all fours trying to rock away the overwhelming waves of intense contractions - ones that had me moaning but speechless and worrying Tim to no end.
Now we are a family of four. How silly of me to think that I wouldn't be able to love a second boy as much as my first. Oh, how wrong I was. They are so uniquely different that I'm already loving them each for all their differences and of course, similarities too. And having Skylar has made me appreciate Dax even more. I adore Dax for lavishing wet kisses all over Skylar's silky dark brown head of hair, for helping with bottle feedings (yes, I'm having to supplement with formula because I'm not making quite enough breast milk but my supply gets better each day!), for propping Skylar up in his lap in the big leather recliner and watching as Skylar slips in to a restful sleep in Daxie's arms and for climbing in to my bed every morning saying he wants to see "baby Skylar". The brotherly love is already there. For the first two weeks home with Skylar, I would silently weep as I fed him in the rocker. And my tears were always tears of gratefulness. I'm so incredibly grateful that at the age of 41, I could give birth for the second time to such a healthy, gorgeous baby boy. It makes me believe that there is a god or presence out there and that this spirit is closely watching over my family. I hold Skylar close and repeat over and over, "thank you thank you thank you" to whoever is listening to this teary-eyed mama.