Well this post started well and then I went off on a tangent......

Waking up with a butterfly in your brain is a seriously lovely feeling. Thoughts flitter through your mind touching down for a brief second on a colour, a child,  a flower, a dream, a blessing and then moving on....just as a butterfly flutters around my garden. Nothing stressed, nothing rushed. Just brief flashes of what is, what could be, what dreams are made of.

That was how I woke this morning.

We humans have complicated things horribly, haven't we......

Butterflies don't burn out, worry about keeping warm, need bigger and better everything, hoard. They simply go about their business. They are creatures of the moment. Actually, nearly the entire population of living things on earth does that, with one exception - us.

Children still have that magical freedom when they are small, of course. Life is full of adventures, and fun, and love and learning. Our children. Some - thousands, millions - are not so fortunate. I know, and my heart aches for them.

So when and why do we lose that joy of just being? Of life? Is it TV? Is it school? Is it simply watching the adults around?

I was 22 when my son was born. A young Mum. I didn't read books on parenting. I am not sure there were many around back then apart from Dr Spock. What I did have, and it was invaluable, was a truly wonderful antenatal teacher. In those days, you went to antenatal classes for months. Once a week. We learned breathing, and exercises, and all about feeding and I tell you, I can still hear Mrs Sternweiler (who also taught my mother's antenatal classes!) saying "crack ze nut under your coccyx" which was how to tilt your spine to the right position to push that baby out. Every one of my friends graced her classes too, and we all remember her breathing exercises for each stage of labour, which is, of course redundant information now, but back then, it had become effortless.

I digress.

But please tell me how pregnant women are supposed to learn how to breathe through labour with a lesson or two? I have no idea. Ah yes, there is that new-fangled thing called an epidural now. Right. They were just arriving on the scene back in the dark ages (34 years ago)! One more thing - Mrs S taught us post natal classes too. "Get back ze figure!" Well, that never quite worked for me, but we will ignore that. One excellent piece of advice for life was "Every time you go to ze bathroom, you MUST stop ze flow...one two three times - and ze muscles, zey will stay strong." A little too much information maybe, but her voice echoes through the decades. She was not a shy retiring type at all. And she taught well. I can still hear her, bless her cotton socks.

But back to babies. I brought home a little boy and we learned together. I didn't know many other young Mums back then, but I did have my Mum and she was wonderful. Geoff was in Norway, and came home when Andrew was 6 weeks old, so by then, Andrew and I had sort of found out that nappies need to be pinned securely, and colic was hell on earth.

His nursery had a wicker crib and a fancy changing mat. My mother bought us a Sliver Cross pram, and my sister gave us an orange striped Maclaren baby buggy - one of the very first umbrella type of pushchairs. It did not recline. Here is an article about the first buggies, featuring an EXACT copy of my one. We were trend setters, of course.

His toys were like these. Remember them? I have had the most hilarious time looking all over Google images for toys from his childhood. Do you know that these are classed as VINTAGE toys? I must tell Andrew and Diana. They will be absolutely thrilled to have the word vintage associated with their beloved toys from yesteryear. I think a great many of them are somewhere in the attic. I am sure Missy will enjoy playing with them when David finally levers himself up there to search for the hidden treasure.

 Then I started thinking about toys from MY childhood, and all I could remember was the pair of sparkly glittery pink heeled Cinderella shoes Father Christmas brought me when I was about 4. My joy knew no bounds. My sister remembers stealing acquiring them. I love my sister. Now. Back then? Hmmmm.

And my floppy doll when I was a little older. And Barbie. And Skipper, but I wrote about them a while back. Books. Pencil crayons. Those 64 packs of Crayola crayons - oh how I longed for one of them. Tricycles.
I must get Mum to write down the things we played with - the games like bagatelle, card games like Snap, Old Maid, Happy Families. Swings and jungle gyms - we played outdoors a lot. Pools. I can remember the teen years, but the kiddie years are not so clear.

At Christmas, some strange "uncle" , Uncle Harry, always gave us one of those Lifesaver books of sweets. Do you know the ones? They looked like books, but there were loads of rolls of different lifesaver sweets inside. I remember those. I loved the cherry ones. And those Cinderella shoes.What does that say about me, I wonder. I also remember an Easter egg, shaped like Humpty Dumpty sitting on a wall with iced flowers on the wall. Why am I obsessing about sweets?

I have just come back from aquarobics. I am feeling virtuous. And no sugar has been consumed today at all, so that must be why the sweet thing is growing by the minute. Deprivation. Not that I eat many sweets.

So how did I get from butterflies in the brain to babies to sweets, via Cinderella shoes and dolls?

I have no idea, and I can't remember what I meant to say at the start either. Time for coffee, and a nap before the 3 garden watering can party starts again.

I will try to retrieve the brain before the morning.

(All images from Google images)