Another thing that kept me awake at night, that I can't stop perseverating over -- the pediatrician said Felicity has a flat head. I've been obsessed with making sure that she doesn't get a flat head since birth! I've been like the Jillian Michaels for babies drilling Felicity with tummy time every day.

                                           Do not phone this one in!

Eye of the tiger, Felicity. You got this.

                                    Lift that head!

And even when she gives me this:

"Today's my break day, Mom. Imma just lay here."

We do what I call The Lazy Baby's Tummy Time: 

 

Additionally, I make sure she spends ample time in her carrier, instead of more lying back like a baby in the stroller. She hated the baby carrier when she was smaller, but for the past month she's been loving our walks and trips to the grocery store. It's sunny with no shade here, and Felicity is too young for sun screen, so I'm the pale nut walking around the lake carrying my papoose and holding an umbrella, fighting the wind, under the clear blue sky. We look cool, though. 

In one laughing comment, the pediatrician belittled our ardent effort. She didn't seem concerned about it, though. She was just, "Ha! Ha! She has a flat head, " like it was cute. Responding to my despondent look, she added, "It's not as bad as other babies I've seen, where their heads are all lopsided." Then she giggled some more, taking delight at the thought of all the alien headed stupid babies.

"But we've been doing tummy time! And I carry her whenever I can! I've been doing all these things to prevent the flat head and she still has a flat head," I whined.

"You don't want to carry her too much," was her grave response, all laughter gone.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, because then you'll spoil her."

Most would say you can't spoil a baby this young. Such an opinionated comment from a pediatrician might have another parent running for the door, but I've started to find her nutty conversations charming. She's a character. Someone I can write about in my journal instead of the normal what-is-my-life, I'm-such-a-loser rants.

Dr. X is the shortest person who isn't technically a little person whom I've ever seen. Every time I see her she's wearing no smaller than five inch platform heals, and I still tower over her like a basketball player. After a moment or so of her looking up to speak to me, I take a seat to give her neck a rest. I get a funny visual when I try to imagine her picking up a chubby 25 pound baby.

The first time I met her, I was annoyed. She's a bit forgetful. Felicity needed a follow-up ultrasound and she forgot to complete the referral. During that appointment she also kept saying, "I'm going to refer you to a Filipino babysitter." She was very insistent that the babysitter be Filipino, like her. I was all for it. We needed a sitter and I knew not one soul on the prairie. I was looking forward to getting that number. Like the nephrologist referral, she did not follow through, leaving me with the impression that she was someone who said things she did not mean, just to make conversation. Like, "We should get together sometime!" might be something she'd say to be polite to an acquaintance she had no intention of seeing again. Upon leaving she told me, "I hope you like it here. We lose a lot of good doctors because their spouses don't." Well that sounds promising, I thought.

I decided to give her another chance, and I've changed my mind. She keeps me on my toes. I have to look shit up myself to make sure it's sane advice.  Besides, one look at any baby forum and you know, everything is debatable. Just find a doctor who amuses you, that's my philosophy.

So, this funny, small doctor keeps terrorizing my mind all night. "Ha! Ha! She has a flat head."

I'm not so convinced Felicity's head is flat, anyway. Maybe I'm in denial, but it feels normal to me. At any rate, I'm stepping up her training. Baby boot camp is on in this house. There's no crying in tummy time!