Dear Thirty,

You were not nearly what I expected.

After what seemed like a lifetime of being 20-something, along you came and changed the game.

I had another baby and even after a long time my tummy didn't go away. I also wear sleeved tops almost all of the time.
My head sprouted grey hairs and I now take a really long uhmmmm do I have to before I epilate my legs.
I completed my first 5km run - and in Shoops! red socks no less.
Although I can't deny having worn my shoes, I didn't take a single ballet class and instead started doing the Mommy shuffle, much to my family's dismay.
I parted ways with my beautiful road bike.
I cut my hair. Short. And once I'd overcome the shock I realised that it brought me such relief. Who knew that so much happiness could be tied up into a pony tail?

I joined a virtual book club and learnt to read for pleasure again.
I consciously slowed down my social media footprint.
I battled loneliness.
I worked a different job and sold the first car that I ever owned.
I started to seriously consider emigration.

I met some new Moms who didn't know me before this year and therefore don't compare me to any other version of myself.
I spent time with my Grandparents after considering how they have had to adjust to life after losing their spouse and then we reached our 10th wedding anniversary milestone.
I became an Aunty. Again.
I lost some friendships and it hurt,
I uncovered more truths about choices, chances, trust and grace.
I mourned loss with people both in and outside of my personal circle.

So I learnt that it's not always sun, fun, food, shorts and sloffies. It's hard work. There are challenges and even with the best intention, pain is real. I don't know what the next chapter holds. Surely I'm not the youngest in the room anymore? Whatever happens, I have promised myself that the past year's lessons will not go unnoticed.