Love me tender.
My little monkey-girl climbs up on the couch, sprawls across my lap interrupting whatever I am doing, and assumes her nursing position.
She won't keep a shirt on. And I am gentle and I let her run around the house without one until I can catch her.
But some days I don't want to be gentle. I need to be firm. I am In Charge. And [feel like I] am always barking orders at the bigs and letting the littles get away with everything.
Hard - soft - Hard - soft - Hard - soft
I sometimes forget which role I am, the love? Or the correct? The love-ing corrector. Or the steel-shelled love-r.
It's hard to put on and take off in time. I love, always love. But the outside repels the bullets and arrows.
Sometimes they poke through my armour.
Stephanie- Adventures In Babywearing