I just read about cortisol in one of those irritating baby books clogging my shelf. Cortisol is a hormone that is released when you are stressed, like when you are overtired--or in my case, when your infant is overtired. Cortisol doesn't play hard to get and it is manifested in noisy, in-your-face kinds of ways. If cortisol had a face, it would be the guy who screeches bible passages from busy street corners. It’s nothing you want to mess with, but I just love having a scapegoat for this little phase we've entered.
It only takes a minute for cortisol to turn my sweet, perfect little cherub into a demon from hell. Nap time is at 9, so we'd better be winding down at 8:30. 8:31 is too late. Before I understood the power of cortisol, we’d start to go down at 9:15, maybe 10. At this point, cortisol would have Lukas in its grip. He’d be screaming and sobbing; I’d be screaming and sobbing.
I’ve learned that I can avoid this unfortunate scene by catching the nap before it’s too late. If naptime is at 9, I probably shouldn’t start hemming a pair of pants or roasting that chicken in the fridge at 8:59. Easy enough, right? Well, if cortisol didn’t present enough of a problem, there’s the other issue to contend with. Lukas will only take a good nap if he goes for a stroller ride. While daily mandatory walks aren’t the worst thing in the world, they don’t always fit into the idealized schedule. But, like death, taxes and a nursing mom's sweet tooth, they are unavoidable right now.
Instead of fighting it, I’m embracing the stroller (for now). Thankfully, I live close to downtown Missoula, a walking venue that never disappoints. I’m noticing the little things around town that I might not ordinarily—like graffiti and other types of word art. From the quirky to the preachy to the practical, there’s some nifty advice on walls, bumpers and sidewalks. Just this morning I was advised by a sidewalk to ‘go fuck myself’, which I have neither the time nor the energy for right now, thank you very much.
I take lots of different routes. Sometimes I go wherever the traffic-crossing ‘walk’ signs direct me. Other times, I go along the side of the road where the sun is shining or the wind is not blowing. I visit coffee shops. I’ve learned which routes are the most hospitable for my wide ride. If Lukas is having a cat-nap kind of day, I make lots of stops, breaking when he’s down and walking if he gets up. We walk and walk until he’s sufficiently rested and cortisol is no longer a threat. Regardless of my route, I’m having lots of fun. I get to gaze at my perfect little boy as he dozes in and out of consciousness and remember that he’s what’s important right now, whether he fits in the schedule or not. I suppose I have cortisol to thank for reminding me of that.
It only takes a minute for cortisol to turn my sweet, perfect little cherub into a demon from hell. Nap time is at 9, so we'd better be winding down at 8:30. 8:31 is too late. Before I understood the power of cortisol, we’d start to go down at 9:15, maybe 10. At this point, cortisol would have Lukas in its grip. He’d be screaming and sobbing; I’d be screaming and sobbing.
I’ve learned that I can avoid this unfortunate scene by catching the nap before it’s too late. If naptime is at 9, I probably shouldn’t start hemming a pair of pants or roasting that chicken in the fridge at 8:59. Easy enough, right? Well, if cortisol didn’t present enough of a problem, there’s the other issue to contend with. Lukas will only take a good nap if he goes for a stroller ride. While daily mandatory walks aren’t the worst thing in the world, they don’t always fit into the idealized schedule. But, like death, taxes and a nursing mom's sweet tooth, they are unavoidable right now.
Instead of fighting it, I’m embracing the stroller (for now). Thankfully, I live close to downtown Missoula, a walking venue that never disappoints. I’m noticing the little things around town that I might not ordinarily—like graffiti and other types of word art. From the quirky to the preachy to the practical, there’s some nifty advice on walls, bumpers and sidewalks. Just this morning I was advised by a sidewalk to ‘go fuck myself’, which I have neither the time nor the energy for right now, thank you very much.
I take lots of different routes. Sometimes I go wherever the traffic-crossing ‘walk’ signs direct me. Other times, I go along the side of the road where the sun is shining or the wind is not blowing. I visit coffee shops. I’ve learned which routes are the most hospitable for my wide ride. If Lukas is having a cat-nap kind of day, I make lots of stops, breaking when he’s down and walking if he gets up. We walk and walk until he’s sufficiently rested and cortisol is no longer a threat. Regardless of my route, I’m having lots of fun. I get to gaze at my perfect little boy as he dozes in and out of consciousness and remember that he’s what’s important right now, whether he fits in the schedule or not. I suppose I have cortisol to thank for reminding me of that.
No comments:
Post a Comment