Heureux Pour Toujours

I love presents. I love opening them early even more. Colored paper and tape are small hurdles; unsecured gift bags with two sheets of flimsy tissue paper are blatant invitations to glance inside. As a lifetime peeker it's only natural I would choose to be induced. Of course I want to unwrap my baby early! 

Tomorrow I get my third wish. I can't wait. Aurora, Archer, and ___________.

Happily. (RE came when I wanted her, as planned, according to my timeline.)

Ever. (Archer took forever, according to a holier timeline.)

After. (And #3 is coming after that. Bonus baby. So rad.)

I've often thought back to the night of December 3, 2012, when our first IVF failed and I was broken. I knew in my heart the baby gap would eventually close but I never could have guessed all that would be. The Lord has a genius plan. I'm sure on December 3 He was looking down on me, watching me bawl my eyes out and hoping I'd grab that shred of thread dangling from the end of my rope. I'm sure He wanted to say, "Don't give up! You are actually going to have a house full of boys! I have things planned you can't even imagine!"

"Almost all decorating involves odd numbers-most often, the number 3." -Victoria Solomon, SheKnows Expert, "9 Interior-Design Rules to Live By"

*Three Wishes is a real store. I bought loads of wool roving there for needle felting. It was like time traveling back to the Renaissance. There was a functioning spinning wheel, giant faux sheep, walls of rainbow-colored wool, and nooks and crannies stuffed with notions and samples.

The Sundance Catalog had a giant, decorative brass heart stamped with HEUREUX POUR TOUJOURS. I really wanted it as a symbol for my life. It sold out before I could afford it. C'est la vie. I also got a little crazy a week ago and ordered a $200 authentic bison skull as a belated anniversary gift for Greg. It was advertised as a "bulletin on the plains." Pioneers used to write on bison skulls (and rocks, and anything else that would preserve a memo) when they were traveling. Stuff like "Walked 15 miles today, survived the pass, here we are." I was going to write the dates our three children were born on the bison skull and hang it in our future bedroom. You know, as a marital trophy to say, "Walked 19 years, got three kids, survived some crazy stuff and here we finally are and we rock and our life kicks booty and I love you." I also like the symbolism of being "equally yoked" in marriage. Then the bison skull arrived. It had three faults: monstrously oversized, creepy, and stinky. The bison face made my soul shiver. Bison teeth are no joke. I had a vision of the skull falling off the wall and landing on our sleeping heads and cracking our own skulls. But the teeth! So jaggedy and huge. Like square chainsaws. No way I could rest under that thing. So back it went, return shipping and all. It was a nice thought.