Makes me wonder, when did I grow up?  Am I really a mother of two, in her 30s (early 30s!)?  It seems like no time has passed since the day I moved into my first apartment all by myself.  After all the chaos of moving and after everyone had gone home I looked around and marveled, everything in that apartment was mine.  Not my parent's things, not my sister's things, not my roommate's things, mine.  It was very strange to think I was finally starting adulthood.  

That apartment was the home to many happy and many sad memories.  Primarily happy, and why not?  The bathroom and all the kitchen appliances were pink (I adore pink, clearly I need to have a baby girl- hello universe, did you catch that?)!  I met my husband in the parking lot of that apartment building.  He rode by on his super hot, very juvenile BMX jump bike and stopped to say hi to our mutual friends Erin and John.  Weeks later I looked out the window of that apartment and tried not to grin from ear to ear when I looked outside just in time to see him dropping by unannounced.  

So, I think I did my biggest chunk of growing up in that apartment, age 26-28 (I think).  When and where did you do yours?  Are you excited about nerdy mom things like new appliances?