My children often ask who I love most. Them? Their father? Their grandparents?
It’s a hard question to answer. "YOU!" is what I always tell them, but then they are shocked to hear that I could possibly love them more than I love my parents. In their ever-growing minds and worlds, their parents are at the very centre. It’s hard for them to understand that they may go on to love someone else more than they love us.
"What about Daddy?" they screech, giggling. "Do you love him more, or us more?"
The thing is, I never realised that I would one day be torn between my children and my husband. It never occurred to me while I was pregnant, or even in the early days of motherhood. I think it happened the first time my husband said he needed to get away, "Just the two of us".
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I agreed that we desperately needed it. I too was raring to regain some of what felt like my lost self, or our lost selves in the case of our relationship. As all parents know, life with young children can easily fall into a constant procession of chores and logistics. Unless you really make the effort, relationships, sex, and quality time together often get thrown aside.