No More Figgy Pudding for Me!

I know this is a regular post topic for me, but I just can't say enough how much I love my husband. He really is the best.

I love Christmas Eve. It just always feels magical to me. This year I spent it with my head over a toilet. I don't know for sure what I ate that disagreed so terribly with my stomach, (although my first go at my Uncle Marc's Coconut Candy is the prime suspect) but it was awful. It started at about 9:00 pm and kept me up on and off until about 5:00 am and in order to fully describe my feelings, I need to supply you with some background. I hate being sick, but I hate being alone when sick even more. My mother, bless her heart, struggled with germs when I was little so she would do all she could to take care of me, but had a hard time just sitting with me. When we were teenagers Chad and I used to take care of each other when sick, but when I moved out I just did it on my own (until my aunts found out I was sick and showed up to take me to the doctor or bring movies and tea).

So, all caught up?

Josh stayed up with me all night. He held my hair, snuggled me when I had the chills, and kept me hydrated. He got up to give me a blessing at 3:00 am and never once even hinted that he was tired. He took care of me all morning and made sure I started with saltines (yuck) and sprite and made me chicken noodle soup so I could still eat with the family.