In the early 1990's, the American Pediatrics Association recommended that babies sleep on their stomachs to reduce the risk of horrible things that Mike and I dare not speak of. We simply do as we've been told, dutifully placing Celie on her back, kissing her head goodnight and watching as she settles in. For the most part, she doesn't fight going down, as she takes after her parents who've always loved naptime. Still, we always enjoy that magical moment when her resistance fades and that truly peaceful state takes over. Sometimes we don't even reach her crib before she's well on her way...
"Tummy time," however, is a whole different story. You see, what the ADA discovered after their proclamation was that babies weren't spending
any time on their stomachs, and therefore, they weren't learning how to crawl. Instead, they were just pulling themselves along the floor in a kind of crab-like slither, an image that I must admit gives me the creeps. (I can't help but picture a tiny army of non-verbal beings feverishly inching along toward my ankles.) But apparently, there is an entire generation of kids out there who simply skipped this developmental milestone--something that doctors say has proven detrimental to their ability to master coordinated motor skills.
In response, the ADA called out what is affectionately known as "Tummy Time." You can imagine that the baby-products industry has had a field day with this one, inventing all sorts of gadgets for what is essentially very simple: placing your baby on her stomach each day for whatever length of time she'll allow before she screams bloody murder.
Because one thing's for certain: Celie HATES tummy time. Now this girl has lungs and a strong sense of what she does and doesn't like and she does NOT like being placed on her stomach. She’ll squirm, kick and fight, all the time while I’m rubbing her back, urging her on with words of encouragement. “You’re doing a great job!” I’ll say. “Keep on going!” I’ll coo. But always, she wins as I eventually give up under the pressure of her “You’re torturing me!” response. Who knew thirty seconds could seem like such an eternity?
Now, depending on her mood and the surface upon which she’s placed, we’ve been able to stretch these intervals. Put her on a plain white sheet and there’s no hope. But try a brightly striped blanket? You just might have a chance. After all, what’s more fun than staring at stripes up close? This has been my most recent strategy and it seems to have worked. Or perhaps, she’s just outsmarted me--because yesterday Celie found her ticket out of Tummy Time: rolling over.
Here's a play by play (if you click on the photo, you can enlarge the image for a real treat):
Thinkin' about it.
Lookin' around to make sure the coast is clear.
Giving a nice strong kick with those plump little legs just for emphasis.
Knee down, arm out, ready for the big the push.
Going, going...
Making the critical turn of the head.
And voila! She's out.
Houdini's got nothin' on this one. Yes sir, it was yet another amazing moment in a week full of firsts. It just keeps getting better all the time.
"Tummy time," however, is a whole different story. You see, what the ADA discovered after their proclamation was that babies weren't spending any time on their stomachs, and therefore, they weren't learning how to crawl. Instead, they were just pulling themselves along the floor in a kind of crab-like slither, an image that I must admit gives me the creeps. (I can't help but picture a tiny army of non-verbal beings feverishly inching along toward my ankles.) But apparently, there is an entire generation of kids out there who simply skipped this developmental milestone--something that doctors say has proven detrimental to their ability to master coordinated motor skills.
Houdini's got nothin' on this one. Yes sir, it was yet another amazing moment in a week full of firsts. It just keeps getting better all the time.
