Ever changing

We have had a great few days and I'm back in her good graces. *Sigh* Guess this is what motherhood is all about.
The Bun has come to me for both fun and comfort. How easily she fills my heart! Her affection is addicting. I can't get enough of it. And it's so nice that she loves going to the both of us. And my parents! She adores her Nana & Papa.
Easter was so much fun. I honestly haven't cared much about Easter since I was a little girl. This year, because she can walk pretty well, was like a first Easter for her even though it was her second. It was very cute to watch her at her first and second Easter Egg Hunts. Yes, I even went stereotypical Asian girl and bought her a Hello Kitty basket;)
It was a very good weekend. And this when I wonder if I'm ready for another one. Ooooooh, so this is how they sucker a mama into having another baby!
(In all seriousness, I'm not ready. But it's a huge deal that I'm even considering the idea since I was certain I wouldn't do it again. But it's something I've been thinking about for a few months now, even during the rough times. But that's a whole post altogether, isn't it?)

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She's back to breaking my heart again.

Is it because I put it out in the universe? The Bun has gone back to favoring her Dad. In face, she snubbed me pretty bad tonight.
I cried.
Ah, the joys of motherhood.
I feel so silly and unreasonable. But my heart aches.
I don’t need to be the favorite, I just want to be one of them.

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The end of a chapter in her baby book

Yup, I'm about to get even more MAMA on you and I bet you didn't think it that was possible!
Tonight marks the night The Bun officially stopped breastfeeding.
Sure, she has been eating baby food, some soft regular food and cow's milk since she was one year old. But this entire time she has has breast milk before she went to bed. It was part of her night time routine - bath, book, b-milk, and bed.
I figured that she would be weened when I visit Tel for four days in July. But nope, it happened this weekend. I suppose it was a succession of events. Thursday was my good friend's last day at work so I went to her going away party and came home after The Bun went to bed. On Friday, she slept over my folks' house so yet another night of no b-milk. On Saturday, she latched on but it didn't make her sleepy like it normally does. Same for Sunday. And then tonight, when she signed, "milk", I got ready to breastfeed her. But she shook her head and pointed to her bottle of milk.
Ah, I see.
So there it is. I had been so excited for this day. Especially when I was in so much pain from being engorged. But as time went by and her feedings lessened, the pain went away. And now here I am, getting the wish I made probably over a year ago.
No, I didn't cry. But the cliches people say are true. Like, they really do grow too fast. And time really does fly. And yes, I sometimes wonder where the time goes.
Guess I can't tell The Man anymore, "Hey! These aren't just fun bags. These are working boobs."

Randomly putting together an update

The Bun looks like a toddler now. I think she has to be two years old to be officially labeled a toddler so she's got 6 months to go. But she is walking, talking gibberish and looks nothing like the newborn baby that was residing in our home a year and a half ago. When I think back to college or even high school, it doesn't seem that far away even though we're talking 10+ years ago. But now that I have this growing being to benchmark time against, my gosh, time really does fly!
For a few months, she was breaking my heart. I kind of alluded to it before but I was so embarrassed that I didn't feel comfortable talking about it to the masses. Most moms I know have babies/kids that can't shake off w/ a stick!! And The Bun was like that for a good long time. Then, it seemed suddenly, her Daddy was her favorite. I tried not to have my feelings hurt because she means no harm. But my heart just broke. How can I not be her favorite? Didn't I carry her, then birth her and then exclusively fed her for six months? Where's the loyalty?! And what was also hard was that I knew I was being irrational. But I couldn't help it. When I held her and she would twist to her daddy giving the "Pick me up!" sign, I was so hurt. I'd like to say I got over it. But I didn't. She hardly does it anymore which is probably the only reason I can write about it now. My mom says it's because The Man carried The Bun everywhere whereas I would carry her but also make her walk and hold her hand. And how can I fault her for thinking The Man is awesome? He is! But the preference of her Daddy over me made me all emotional. Thankfully, I think we're tied again. And I'm happy with that.
Want to know something funny/awful? A coworker had asked me a couple months back how The Bun was doing. I begun to explain to her my dilemma and I started to cry! I felt so silly. She patted my arm and said, "Don't worry about it. I understand. My daughter is 23 years old and she still breaks my heart." I exclaimed, "That's not at all comforting!!!" Ah, the complicated relationship between mothers and daughters.
Onto something completely different and even more embarrassing, yesterday was our wedding anniversary. We decided we were going to look at cars in the morning and then go wine tasting afterwards. The car browsing was a bust so we were at the winery by 10:30 AM. We wine tasted once they opened at 11:00 AM and then followed it by a lunch. 20 something, I am not. And, according to The Man, I have never been able to hold my liquor. I disagree but as of right now, I don't exactly have a leg to stand on. The lady gave us additional tastes on top of the flight we payed for. I'm telling you, I have drank more wine before but I suppose all those little sips fooled me into thinking the whole was smaller than it's sum parts.
I was a very un-hot mess.
I ended up vomiting in the car into The Man's favorite jacket. I blame it on the cheese platter the waiter proposed to us at the restaurant but The Man said it was because I can't hold my liquor. To be fair, I hardly drink anymore! Of course I have little tolerance. But, again, 20 something I am not. I should have known better. I should know my tolerance level. I used to but that's when I drank on a somewhat regular basis. What a very disgusting way to end our anniversary.
But before you start thinking, "Oh, poor The Man, he has to put up with this sloppy drinker" (yes, I am going to throw him under the bus because he was teasing me and talking as if this always happens to me) I would like to remind folks of my grad school party in which he drank BOTTLES of Two-Buck Chuck because he didn't feel anything. And then he was later found kissing the porcelain thrown for hours and I had to get him after we were done cleaning and locking up. On a sweet note, my parents took pity on him and said he could sleep over our home so he wouldn't have to drive home. These are the same parents who were extremely strict and have never allowed a boy into their 25 year old daughter's room up until this point! My dad, feeling bad, said, "Make sure you put a trash can next to your bed. I don't think he will make it to the bathroom."
Mean of me to bring up? Maybe just a little. But it's also a fond memory for me because I feel like that was the point my folks truly accepted The Man into our family. They didn't even tease him the next day! Hmm, maybe we're better off as a dry couple.