I had a wonderful Mother’s Day weekend. It was busy, but good. Of course, no Mother’s Day is complete without a gymnastics recital, which kicked off the weekend’s festivities. Lilla was so excited to show off her moves. She has been practicing in the yard for weeks. She did so great. She even had her very own cheering section, led by none other than Miss Bette herself.

I also got a lot of sleep, which I have been desperately craving, and ate some delicious meals, the best being the Mother’s Day breakfast Jay cooked. We also went to the strawberry patch, which has become our Mother’s Day tradition, and then made homemade strawberry jam, from the 8 million strawberries we picked. We even had a visit from Aunt Mimi and Cousin Alex.

The whole weekend was lovely. And I am so thankful I get to be a mama to these two precious souls. I adore them so!

I was standing over the stove cooking dinner. The backdoor was open. The birds were chirping. The ducks were quacking. And a warm breeze was blowing.

The girls were outside playing, and it was all so peaceful and lovely and quiet.

Until I hear my six year old. Her voice is raised – at her little sister. Then I hear my three year old. Her voice is raised too, but in a fussy, whiny kind of way.

Her big sister responds by raising her voice even more. And then the three year old fusses even louder right back at her. Then, I hear the six year old yell, “Fine. Here. TAKE IT! BUT YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BE MY FRIEND ANYMORE!” And she marches away.

The three year old cannot let this stand. She clenches her fists, slams her arms down to her side, stomps her foot, and loudly says “Hurmph!” at her sister.

She begins to climb the stairs. She is coming to get me. After two steps, she stops, turns around, slams her fists down, stomps her foot, and says “Hurmph!” again at her sister, although a little louder.

She starts up the stairs again. She takes another two steps and turns around. I think, “Oh great, more grunting.” I am wrong.

Instead, she looks straight at her sister, who is way across the yard. She takes a deep breath, and then screams, and I mean screams, as loud as she possibly can at Lilla.

And she screams complete and total gibberish. It makes absolutely no sense. And yet, it does. Because whatever she is screaming appears to have sentence structure, punctuation, an introduction, and a conclusion. She is making a point, a very loud point, and she makes with all the force she can muster from that little body of hers.

When she finishes screaming, after quite some time, she starts back up the stairs. At the top, she turns around and just for good measure, throws another foot stomp and grunt in her sister’s general direction. She then marches into the house to find me.

Another mother, a better mother, probably would have used the whole incident as a teaching moment. About loving your sibling, sharing, or the importance of not losing your temper.

In my attempt to be as mature and helpful as possible, I threw myself down on the ground and laughed hysterically. And because I was no help to Bette what so ever, she eventually gave up trying to get me to intervene and went back outside.

But that little one – the one with so few words that can’t hear half the time – is going to be just fine in life.

Like I said in my previous post.

A good bit happened last weekend.

I also cried.

A lot.

I sat on the sofa Sunday night.

When the weekend was finally over.

And it was all said and done.

And sobbed to Jay.

About how tired I am.

And about how burnt out I am.

With homeschool and speech therapy.

And childrearing and homekeeping.

Because it never ends.

Any of it.

There is always one more thing to do.

At this stage of life.

There are always more dishes and more laundry.

There is always more cleaning and more folding.

There is always more math and more grammar.

And there is always more therapy and more teaching.

It never ends.

It is always oncoming.

And now that we are at the end of the year.

I am completely exhausted.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened.”

I am weary.

And I am burdened.

But how long have I put off.

Going to Jesus?

And when I do go to Him.

Don’t I usually rush it.

And throw my prayers up to God.

And not really connect with Him?

“And I will give you rest.”

It is rest that I want.

And rest that I need.

And Jesus offers that to me.

And yet I do not go.

I am too busy.

With dishes and diapers.

And dirt.

Or so I tell myself.

I long for rest.

I crave it.

Jesus offers it to me.

And I do not go.

“Take my yoke upon you.”

It’s because of that yoke of His.

It scares me.

Don’t horses have yokes?

And donkeys?

Who wants that?

I don’t.

I don’t want to be yoked.

Like some dumb old donkey.

“And learn from me.”

But could it be.

Maybe, just maybe.

That it is His yoke.

That will give us the rest we so long for?

Is it my resistance to His yoke.

And my refusal to listen.

That makes it seem like it will all be.

So difficult and unpleasant?

Could it be that the moment I yield.

That is when the Lord.

Gives me the strength and joy.

To do His will?

“I am meek and lowly in heart.”

Why do I refuse to yield?

Why do I chaff at the bit?

He offers to put.

In my mouth?

When He assures us.

Of both His meekness and lowliness.

And that His gentleness.

Will meet our every need.

“And I will give you rest.”

He promises us rest.

When we come.

When we surrender.

When we obey.

He will give us rest.

Real, deep rest.

But the kind of rest that can only be found.

In nearness to God.

When we come to Him.

And set ourselves at His feet.

And fix our eyes on Him alone.

That is when He begins to give us rest.

Because only then came we listen.

And hear His still, small, holy voice.

His voice that is mightier than a storm.

But which also calms the sea.

Jesus calls us to Him.

“Come to me.”

And He makes us a promise.

“I will give you rest.”

And all He asks us for in return.

Is that we listen to Him.

And learn from Him.

And give Him our undivided attention.

For just a little while each day.

He asks us to come to Him.

And to carve out time.

To be with Him.

It is the simple secret to finding true rest.

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There were a lot of happenings this weekend.

Lilla participated in her first race.

A splash and dash.

As it happens to be called.

It was nothing major.

But in the weeks leading to it.

Jay helped her train.

By practicing her swimming.

When they first started, she was rusty.

Jay was a little worried.

But it all came back to her.

And by race day, she was ready.

We all went to cheer her on.

She was so excited.

Even though it was wet.

And cold outside.

But we gave her big pep talks.

Of the you-can-do-it variety.

And we included things like

Don’t worry about the water, just swim as fast as you can.

When it was time.

She lined up with all the other kids.

She was all smiley.

And ready for her moment.

And then it came.

It was her turn!

GO LILLA! we screamed.

And she jumped into the water!

Except she didn’t break into freestyle.

Like I assumed she practiced.

Instead, she could barely get her head.

Out of the water to draw a breath.

I turned to Jay.

Is this what you practiced with her?

Because the girl was struggling.

And I was starting to worry she might drown.

I think she was worrying about the same thing.

Because after swimming about ten feet.

She turned around and swam back.

Smart girl.

The water was so cold.

She cried when she got out.

And she was shaking.

By the time she reached us.

Jay was so sweet with her.

He warmed her up and toweled her off.

He suggested she go do the run.

So she changed her clothes and took off.

While we stood there waiting.

Some poor kid still stuck in the pool.

Screamed to his dad, My brain is about to freeze off!

Which about summed it all up.

Lilla ran her heart out though.

She crossed the finish line.

Out of breath and smiling.

And loved her medal.

Once her race was over.

We had just enough time.

To go home.

And get ready for her ballet recital.

Oh, the ballet recital.

Lilla has been practicing for weeks.

And counting down the days.

Until the big show.

Until she could finally wear her costume.

And all her accessories.

And put her hair in a bun.

And look like a real ballerina.

Last year, I wasn’t prepared.

Her hair would not stay in a bun.

And I had no backup plan.

Or any hair aids to help me.

I managed not to curse.

But I am pretty sure she was crying.

By the time I finished.

After eight tries.

But this year, I was ready.

I was armed with rubber bands.

And bobby pins.

And hair spray.

It only took three tries.

To get her hair into a pretty bun.

And there may or may not have been some crying.

But only a little.

She did swan lake.

Obviously, she was a swan.

She looked lovely.

And did great.

Lilla loves ballet so much.

And wants to take more classes.

So I think that will probably happen.

For next year.

Afterward, we went out for ice cream.

And then home to Bette.

Who did not attend the recital.

Because Lilla needs some things to be just about her.

But ever since.

Bette has been itching and pleading with me.

To let her wear Lilla’s costume.

Because that girl loves nothing more than a cute dress.

We have had a great spring, with the girls spending a lot of time outside, reading and exploring our yard. Jay recently read The Last Child in the Woods, which he really enjoyed. He is encouraging them to interact with nature and their surroundings more, which isn’t really a stretch for him. He grew up in the woods. They spends hours outside looking for animals and bugs and find interesting things, like caterpillars. It thrills them beyond belief and leads to things like them building little terrariums in jars and naming bugs George.

We still have the ducks, though we have lost two. Teeny, the little girl duck, disappeared one day and was nowhere to be found. We told Lilla she probably went looking for her family. And then Big, the big strong boy duck, straight up died. I went out to check on them one morning and he was laying there. Lilla was sad, but losing ducklings is common. It is why we got four ducks to begin with, in case one or two of them didn’t survive. Ducks are very social creatures and we didn’t want to have one depressed and bereft duck.

We are down to two ducks and they are getting to be ginormous. They eat their weight in food every day and have taken to bathing in their water bowl. If the water isn’t fresh enough for their liking, they look at me and hilariously bob their heads and quack their little preteen-like-quacks until I change it out.

We built a pen for them in the backyard, as far away from our neighbor’s house as we could, so their quacking wouldn’t bother her. But that means the pen is close to the road, where all of our neighbors walk, and I keep waiting for a letter from our homeowners association informing us that live fowl is not actually permitted in our neighborhood. But the letter has not come yet. So far, so good.

Jay did most of the work on the pen, but Lilla and I chipped in a lot. The chicken wire and I got to be very good friends and like all good friends, we had our fair share of fights. I even had to curse at it a few times because it would not cooperate. Jay eventually had to step in and once his very reasonable and skilled hands took over, the chicken wire fell into line. Now we all get along again; mostly because the ducks are very happy and snug in their little house.

Lilla has really stepped up her game lately with household chores. She will do pretty much anything. She even vacuums. I am thinking of hiring her out.

She earns money for each chore she does, which she then saves and almost exclusively spends on new Barbie dolls. We have a gazillion Barbies at our house, and for some reason, my girls have stripped their clothes off and they are all naked. Does anyone else have that problem?

The biggest highlight of our spring so far was seeing Taylor Swift in concert. We were invited by friends, and I am so thankful, because buying tickets and making plans to attend a live concert is not something I would ever get my act together to do. Lilla was so excited when I told her we were going, and we spent the next three days talking about what she should wear. She really wanted to wear rock star clothes, until she realized it was the Red Tour. So we bought a little red dress at Target, paired it with her cow girl boots, and she was ready to go. The girl looked good.

It was a fabulous show. Lilla sang her heart out to every single song she knew. And I am so glad we were able to go and create that memory because it is something we will definitely remember forever.

We are gearing up for the end of the year, and all the craziness that accompanies the month of May. And we are counting down the days until school is out (16 days people!) and summer vacation begins! Wahoo!