Drive Time

I started a fitness class last week because (a) I still have 25 pounds to lose, post-Weston and (b) I suck at going to the gym unless I have a commitment like a class. (Could I just take a moment here? 25 pounds?! What on earth?! I need it to go away. Now.)

It's twice a week and the first day, I was all mopey because I didn't like the thought of leaving Weston. Not so much because I didn't want to, you know, LEAVE Weston, but because I'm afraid of baby bottles. Yes, afraid.

See, Luke LOVED bottles. So much so that when he got a bottle every once in a while, he would refuse to nurse for an unhealthy amount of time, in the hopes that he'd get another one. In fact, I remember one particularly harrowing experience which started as a nursing strike because he got a bottle and ended as a full-out hunger strike, where he was refusing solids, bottles, nursing, everything. Instead, he rolled under the coffee table and lay there and moaned FOR HOURS. (I don't know why he needed to be under the coffee table. Or why he needed to refuse to eat. Or why he needed to moan. But then, there was a lot about baby-Luke that I didn't understand.) In the end, we pretty much stopped giving him bottles at all because the occasional convenience just wasn't worth all the drama.

So I was worried that Weston might follow in his brother's footsteps. I worried that he might love bottles so much that I'd either have to wean him or never leave him again. As it turns out, I didn't have much to worry about because the kid is not at all pleased with the idea of deriving nutrition from a piece of silicone. He took a sum total of an ounce, let most of that run out of his mouth, and was more than happy to see me when I got home so he could eat. And since then, I've gone to the class two more times and McMoose hasn't even had to heat up a bottle because Weston just eats before I leave and after I get back.

Which means that twice a week, I get to drive in my car BY MYSELF, pick my own radio stations, and not have to point out every truck we pass. And really? The alone-in-the-car time is way more valuable than the time I actually spend in class.