Pickles, Please

As I mentioned before, one of my best friends is expecting a baby. Actually, three of my closest friends from growing up are all expecting. So naturally part of me is feeling sentimental about pregnancy. However, I already have a time line planned out in my mind for when I want it to happen again. (God may be laughing right now.) And it's not really soon.

Yesterday we had lunch with some friends at a Mexican restaurant. I went nuts and had a burrito. It was wonderful. But a few hours after we got home I started feeling weird. That same weird feeling I always try to ignore and deny. I knew I was in trouble when I started thinking about pickles, which was the only thing that helped my nausea during pregnancy.

One night in my first trimester Curtis took me to the movies. Suddenly the pungent smell of vinegar pierced the air as a boy behind us began eating his treat. Curtis and I made simultaneous comments.
HIS: Do you smell that nasty pickle? That's so disgusting!
MINE: Oh my gosh, that smells AMAZING! Honey, can you please go get me a pickle?
Thus began a long dependence on dill pickles to keep the nausea at bay.

Last night my weird feeling progressed into full-on sick. And y'all, Mexican food is not the thing to be sick on. Sadly, our refrigerator held nary a pickle. I hardly slept last night for feeling bad. My sweet hubby tended to The Monkey while I laid in bed until 9:40 this morning. At that time I looked at the clock and realized my child would be going down for his nap in twenty minutes and he might want to see his mom's face at some point in the day. I made an appearance in the living room, and what an appearance it was. My hair looked like the bride of Frankenstein. Bless my heart. I don't think I'm going to get sick again, but my body feels like it was hit by something large and in charge.

Needless to say, I am no longer feeling even the teensiest bit sentimental about pregnancy. Eleven weeks of bonding with the porcelain throne? I think I can wait.