late 20s

birthday breakfast date with Justin and Pippa. I've been craving Perkins breakfast potatoes since I got pregnant.

I'm no longer in my mid-20s.

Yesterday marked the 27th anniversary of my entrance to this world. I wondered how I would feel, entering the brief period of life known as one's "late-20s." Would I lament my fleeting youth? Would I take stock of how far I had come? Would I make a panicky "30 before 30" bucket list?

Actually, I mainly just felt nauseous. But not about the passing of time. I felt actual nausea due to morning (or all day) sickness. (Thanks, Baby #2). But really, I'm not even mad about it.

Despite the morning sickness, how I felt about my 27th birthday reflected how I view my life in general. I was content to spend the day with my husband and 19 month old...mostly on the couch. I was thankful for the little things Justin did for me (woo hoo! I don't think I changed one diaper on my birthday! I felt like the Queen of Sheba.)

But let's get really serious. Why am I really so happy about my 27th birthday? In reality, it's because I love odd numbers, and yesterday was the 11th of January, in the year 2015, turning 27 years of age. It's my year, people! Watch out!

Here's to 27 years of His grace on earth, and at least 73 more!