Apparently sleeplessness, even if mostly due to a huge dinner and major heartburn, makes me want to get up and write, exercising my demons if you will...

Earlier in the week by daughter said something that kept nagging me. Since the day she was born, I tell her I love her every time I tuck her in. So five plus years later, I figured it was pretty much settled. So when she said but you 'love Mark the most', it hit me hard, despite the giggles with which it was said. At the time I told her that I love her, her brother and yes Mark and that of all three, it is with her I have the longest bond.

Not a fib in anyway. But I love her, because she is my little girl, because she gave my tiger stripes but mostly because of her. How she rather watch me do my hair than watch morning cartoons with Mika. How she gleefully and excitedly jumped for joy when they was finally something under the tree for me. How many hugs and kisses she dolls out on a daily basis. How could I not love her. But the niggling about the most continued to bother me. The Most?

I remember, way before I had kids, seeing a piece about a mom stating that she indeed loved her partner most. Man, the backlash and hateful response but I still remember thinking 'duh, of course'. That never changed, even after becoming a mom myself. Rooted in me is the idea that my relationship should be the best example my kids can have. That it should spill over and carry us all. I never thought differently and that is saying alot after a divorce that was far more painful than angry. I did however feel I could never allow myself to feel that way because it now just wouldn't be fair to them.

How funny is life? My five year old knows. When we have movie night and that means loads of Disney, she looks at us and matter-of-factly stats that we too will get married. Or just simply in the middle of the afternoon, doing nothing in particular, comes 'mama is the queen and Mark is the king'. I usually just giggle it off as the innocent fairy tale dreams of my little princess. But yet that one comment at bedtime made me remember. Forgotten, hidden, unspoken, it is simply lived.

The heart is the most open, soft and large it has ever been.

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