There is nothing worse than being sick on a regular basis, knowing that it's coming, and not being able to do a thing about it. Ugh.
There used to be a pattern to my "morning sickness." If I didn't take an antihistamine before going to bed, I would get sick first thing in the morning. Always. Now I am getting sick anytime of day with no warning. I've had no nausea, just vomiting. This pregnancy is really taking a toil on my body. Maybe it's all the stress of being a mom. The really sad part is that every time I throw up, Eric starts crying. Poor thing. And if John's not here, there's nothing I can do about it except hear him cry from his little play-yard and feel guilty. It really sucks.
Tonight we met friends at a Moroccan restaurant near our house. It was the first time I have ever tried Moroccan food. Our friend C is going to be working in the Democratic Republic of the Congo for the next two months, so this dinner with all of her friends was a good-bye of sorts. C has lived in Morocco and is familiar with good Moroccan food the way I can tell the difference between good Japanese cuisine and faux garbage. And this restaurant was awesome. The food was amazing. And the best part was that Eric was incredibly good the entire night. We were there for two hours, and the little guy never cried or fussed. He ate his dinner well, played with the spoons, and only needed to be held towards the end (when it took eight highly intelligent people with graduate degrees from public Ivy League schools fifteen minutes to figure out how to pay the bill!). And the people in the restaurant actually served Eric water (which we had to ration) and a menu (which Eric gnawed on for about an hour, particularly the wine list- he's the son of two UVA pep-banders, so what can I say?) and silverware as if he were a paying customer. It was so sweet, especially for a romantic restaurant to be so family-friendly. I never knew how much I would really appreciate something like that until I had kids.