“Mother, I'll see you at the supermarket, I'll see you at the playground. I see you at school, I see you on the train and in children's restaurants. Sometimes you see me too, and we exchange a small smile, an eye, an "I get it" moment. More often you don't see me anymore – you're chasing your toddler down the halls, watching your preschooler like a hawk as he climbs higher than you'd like, admonishing your kid for pinching his brother, reaching out for him. with a quick stroke, clean it with a cloth. Cleaning up a spilled drink.

A few days ago I was at our public pool, and if there was ever a stark metaphor for life as a mom in your 30s, the public pool has to be it. There we all are – the stereotypes we swore we would never be – knee-deep in the kiddie pool with our eyes fixed on our little ones – and genuinely charmed by their antics. Although we may be there in pairs or groups, our conversations are fragmentary, we cannot relax. Our focus is entirely on our children. We are tired. We are distracted. Our tankini-clad bodies are battle-scarred and not what they used to be.

At the top of the hill are the brilliant twenty-somethings. They are flipping through magazines, chatting with their friends, Facebooking and selfie-snapping on their iPhones. They are rested. They are toned. They are magnificently unaware of what is coming their way in the future. They don't even see us. Or if they do, they swear they will never be us.

It's okay, mother. We were there once, and we know better that they will be offended if we try.

You see, the truth is that at thirty-something years old we have let ourselves go. No. We have let go of our “I”. We have small children and for the next little while, our “selves” will not come first. We will sleep (or not) according to our children's and/or newborn's schedules and/or a combination of the above. Our hair will not be washed as often as we would like. ABS? What are abs? We'll be cleaning noses and bottoms and messes off walls. We will cook what feels like a continuum from breakfast to dinner time and not leave the table until at least a forkful of peas have been eaten. We'll spend hours a week kneeling next to the bathroom and then reading "just one" more bedtime story until we pass out on the edge of the toddler bed. We'll be fluent in the language of Paw Patrol, Princess Sofia, Peppa Peg, and Ladybug, and we'll shamelessly use said characters as threats, bribes, or as digital babysitters so we can jump into our bathrooms to take a shower. We will find ourselves negotiating with terrorists even though we swore we never would. We will respond to “Súbeme!” and more!" and "I don't want to!", and we will say "What is the magic word?" More times a day than we ever imagined possible. This is something from the thirties. It's not easy, and that's the truth.

But there is another truth. Up there on the hill, nestled subtly among the twenty-somethings, are the forty-somethings. They are also rested. They are also toned. They are alone, silently reading a book. They see us, and they are nice but also a little smug. They've been there and done that and they know it doesn't last forever. Girls, forty is the holy grail. The forties are coming.

The decade we recovered our “selves”, mother.

It's not that I want to wish for time to pass. Although thirty so far is a bit of a blur, it is also a kind of magic. Never again will I feel a cheek rest on my chest in the middle of the night. Little arms reaching out to me after a fall. The delicious baby smell and the little pairs of skinny jeans and shiny sneakers. The scooter rides and the monkey bars and the stories of bed time with a little person in the crook of my arm. Hearing “I want mom” and “Please can you help me?” And "I want to give you a hug."

Yes, something is going to come, and it is going to be a blessing, mother. But don't let it go too fast. If I'm going to lose myself for a decade, motherhood is a delicious thing to lose too.

Love, Catherine. (To the thirtysomething Mums,Catherine, 2016)

Text translated by Cristina Oroz Bajo

Source: http://littlesloveandsunshine.com/2016/07/05/to-the-thirtysomething-mums/

Here I leave you the link to the original article, from a mother who, like all of you, enjoys that special sensitivity, that desire to reach everything, which makes us grow arms to be able to attend to everything with fleeting lives that we need to stop to take awareness, breathing and attending to what is truly important and that is the moment we live in, motherhood; a gift without an instruction manual that brings all its magic so don't forget to enjoy it, don't let it pass you by... I hope you liked it.