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.