Tummy Time Can Kiss My Patootie!

If your baby is anything like mine they *hate* tummy time! Since Little Del was a wee one I have grudgingly complied with today’s ubiquitous cries for baby tummy time by giving him his “tummy torture” somewhat sporadically when I happen to think of it. Two hours a day? Not. Two hours a day of tummy time and I might as well start a savings account for his future psychotherapy. In short: he does not like this tummy torture, he does not like it, Sam I am.

A Tummy Time Story

This is basically how tummy time has played out thus far:

I say, “How about some tummy time?” I get out the baby blanket and maybe a nice mirror, perhaps I set him on his Boppy pillow. He attempts to lift his head, with more or less success depending on his age now, and then instantly begins to whimper as if he cannot imagine how such a thus far devoted and loving mother could be suddenly so cruel and unsympathetic.

I get down to his level and smile, coo at him, and attempt encouragement, “Look at you! You can lift your head! That’s right!” He looks back at me with sad puppy dog eyes. His eyes are saying, “Mommy! Rescue me! Someone is torturing me! I love you! Please rescue me!” All the while he is drooling and bobbing his head up and down off the ground, his whimpers turn lower pitched, he begins to anger.

I respond, “It’s ok!” I desperately reach for a distraction — this being my second child I have lightening fast distraction reflexes. “Look! It’s Mr. Petey! Mr. Petey says hi! Hello Little Del!” Now he’s definitely crying. The tears begin to form in his eyes. His legs kick out in frustration, his eyes clenched, his back arching. He is in pain.

My mommy’s heart is too strong for this tummy time! It will not defeat me! I swoop him up valiantly and cuddle him in my arms. “I’m sorry! It’s ok. Your’e ok.”

Safe now, he attempts to recover from his ordeal. He lets out a few more frustrated wails, then quiets as he realizes he is close to the num-nums. His mouth pops open and he roots about against my shirt. “There, there,” I say as I life my shirt and give him the nipple, “It’s ok. All better.”

Tummy Time can kiss my patootie!

I could just ignore the “tummy time prescription” altogether. I’m certainly not above forging my own path. After all I’m babywearing every day and word on the street is that “Sling time counts as tummy time.” But somehow there is something that makes sense to me about this tummy time concept. Not that I’m specifically worried he’ll get flat head syndrome. Just that I figure with all this time on their backs enforced by the SIDS scare gestapo* there must be something that babies are missing. On an intuitive level, I do figure if he hates something, it must not be good for him, but what if he hates tummy time for environmental reasons (he’s not used to spending time on his belly) and not inborn reasons?

My Solution to the Tummy Time Torture Hour

The “attachment parenting” solution may be somewhat obvious, but I only just stumbled upon it a week ago: Momy Tummy Time! There’s no reason Little Del needs to spend his tummy time on the floor. He’s much more content on my belly — all I need to do is lean back on a rocker or on the couch and let him lift his head up and talk to me to his heart’s content.

And so, I believe I may have defeated this foe, terrible tummy torture of modern living. Stand by for the continued adventures of Mommy Tummy Time where I shall report on my continued findings! I’m sure we’ll be having much more fun.

* I apologize. The folks who advocate for SIDS prevention are not bad people. They work hard to save babies’ lives. But I tell you it’s easy to think twice about the “sleep on your back” admonitions when we know very well that millions of babies around the world, myself included, survived their babyhood sleeping on their tummies. Not to mention the fact that increased back sleeping has led to the rise of plagiocephaly (flattened head syndrome) among babies…