On Being 27

27. I thought yesterday about being 27. I cannot remember one thing about that year...not that it was so long ago. I think it must have been uneventful. Like being 26.

25. Now that should have been an eventful or at least a memorable year. Doesn't 25 mark some kind of milestone? I think I may have had a baby that year. Yeah. I did. It was a memorable year. Come to think of it, I also had my appendix out. I remember because I was pregnant. I don't recommend having an appendectomy while pregnant. Not that you would have a choice. Nor did I.

I guess that means that at 27, I had a two year old....and a six year old. That means that I lived in Mt. Vernon, Illinois on Airport Road. I was a stay-at-home mom. I did laundry (ironing, even) every Monday. By evening all the dirty clothes from the week had been washed, dried, folded, ironed and put away. For a few glorious moments, every piece of clothing in the house was clean and put away. Then it was bath time for the boys and the week's accumulation of dirty clothes began again.

I think I met Paula when I was 27. That would be about right. It was a good year then. We talked on the phone while we did laundry on Mondays. We didn't start PJ Originals that year. But that may have been the year we made my kitchen curtains.

I cooked 3 meals a day then. My house was always clean.

I organized the school's fund-raising dinner that year. It was very successful. I had never done anything like that before.

I probably didn't accomplish a lot the year I was 27. But I survived to tell about it. I guess that's something.