in ancient times

As any parent will warn you, it's not recommended to spend too much time post-kids reminiscing about life pre-kids.
Firstly, after all the hormones and emotions and sleep-deprivation you can't really rely on your memory, even once your kids are a manageable age.
Secondly, in so many ways you're simply not those people any more.

Both reasons probably sound pretty scary to anyone who's not a parent.

One of the anxieties I had to deal with in my 2 and a half therapy sessions while pregnant with Frieda (yes folks, it seems I'm so shallow and my psyche so rose-tinted that not even a paid therapist could eke more material from me, halfway through my 3rd session she basically told me we were done and showed me the door. I still think given a bit more time I could have dredged up some more dirt to talk about), was a genuine concern that having a baby would be like having a permanent house-guest.
Like having someone to stay who you liked very much and got on well with, but around whom you still felt you needed to get dressed at a decent time and serve 3 balanced meals a day and not belch too loudly. Like you couldn't be your normal sloth-ful, toast-eating belcher.
My therapist (can I call her 'mine' after so few sessions?) kind of guffawed (are they allowed to do that?) and asked me what my husband thought of this theory. I confessed I'd not discussed it with him and she sent me home to do just that.
He laughed long and loud.
'Hell no,' he said, 'this is our kid. She will fit into our lifestyle, she will do/dress/eat/live how we choose.'

Okay so he was wrong in a lot of ways. But right in that becoming a parent doesn't feel like one day you were living one life and then the next another. It's all part of the same life, your life, it just gets more interesting ...

But sometimes you can't help but hanker back to those ancient times. And never is this more tempting then on weekend mornings.
What did we do with our long Saturday mornings we asked ourselves at 7.30 am today.

We used to lie in 'til shamefully late. Now we lie in between 2 little girls 'til latest 9 am and then someone needs to wee, or be fed or get changed into a dry baby-gro.
We used to read books, novels. Now we read Mog goes to the V-E-T, Winnie the Witch and, if we're lucky, How the Elephant Got His Trunk.
We used to doze off again. Now we only close our eyes to play peek-a-boo.
We used to cuddle. Now we tickle and roll and squish-like-a-bug and try to shield the baby from various flailing limbs.
We used to finally drag ourselves up and into the quiet house and bumble around filling our day.

I guess we still bumble, but now at rapid speed. And although our days are that much longer the hours seem to fly by and there's certainly very little time to wonder how we're going to fill them.
But we're still very likely to be in our pyjamas 'til shamefully late in the day, we're still the same people after all.