I want my mommy!

That's me screaming.

I remember my first summer out here in Arizona. I was sick as a dog with Valley Fever; basically, pneumonia with a nasty body rash. Yes, gross. Blake and I had been married for three months and this was the first time I'd experienced any kind of illness since we'd started dating.

My mom, dad and little brother came to visit and my mother's parental instincts kicked in: she had me tucked into bed, took my temperature regularly, made me soup, brought me water. Poor Blake - he was completely removed from the situation, not that he minded I'm sure.

And now here we are, a day and a half before Christmas, and I am sick as a dog again. I don't even know where that expression came from or why I am using it. So sorry.

I'm dying! I have to make cookies for Santa and I am dying! And Camille is sick, and my eyes hurt and I'm snotty and coughy, and my ears are clogged up, and I've practically finished off all of the chicken broth in this house, and still I'm at death's door. Mommy! Help me!

Make me some tea with some honey and milk, and a bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup with stelline (those sweet little stars), put a blanket over me and tuck me into bed.

What were your mother's remedies for you when you were sick? Share them with me...