barefoot earlier

Every now and again, things get so bad that there is nowhere else to go and, finally, something happens about the anxiety. Awake until 3am, tears at work. That's the point. It's then that I should be thinking about 'barefoot earlier' and what the point of it is. What really is important?

A takes the brunt so often. He may unsympathetically snooze like a baby through the night, but it doesn't mean he isn't affected. The stress spreads and puts pressure where it isn't needed.

Last night we squabbled about Christmas. Christmas excites me (not sure which of J's 'ch' people that makes me). Time with W, time with M and D, T and A. A chance for A to get to know them properly and them him, Christmas shopping in York, Christmas Eve in pubs with memories wondering who from school we'll bump into, Fewston resevoir, chance of snow. It's everything that matters and this year for the first time I get to share it. That matters more than anything.

A cares about his family so much. It's one of the (many) things that I love about him. What was even better about this Christmas was that we got to spend time there too.

So how did we manage to squabble about it? Who knows, but enough is enough. Some things are more important.

Red wine next

Then bed, early