It snowed today. Huge, beautiful, white flakes literally danced through the sky with seemingly no rush to reach the ground. Winter weather advisory’s were issued, schools closed early and my husband, who plows the white stuff, prepared for a long couple of days while we prepared for a couple of days without him.
I really enjoy snow days (minus the absence of my husband). I love the feeling of being “trapped” inside for a period with nowhere to go. I love that we can make a mess of the house without any concern of visitors dropping by or schedules to follow. I love the comfort of wrapping my hands around a warm cup and feeling its contents warm my insides as I sip it slowly.
More than anything, I love the comfort and safety that I feel when I’m in our home. Today, the kids and I did a whole lot of nothing. When you have kids, though, nothing is always something. Today our something began with the cracking of eggs and the whirl of the mixer as the kids took the reins in baking chocolate chip cookies.
In between batches of cookies, light saber battles are fought, living room tents are constructed, and CC the bear (one of 4 names she was given today) is passionately fought over.
|Chanelle won this time and is kissing CC for her victory|
It is beautiful and exhausting and lovely and annoying all woven together in a 12 hour day. After dinner dishes are cleared and little bodies are snuggled in p.j.’s , the final moments of the day are consumed in a quiet and relaxed setting. The kids enjoy watching a movie while I enjoy watching them.
This is my favorite part. . . watching the two of them, together, enjoying each others company. I listen to them giggle at the funny parts of the movie and observe the ease that they have with each other and I find myself wondering if they will remember this moment. I wonder if they will remember “that one real snowy night when we sat in our tents, ate popcorn, and watched a movie by the fire.” I wonder if they might, one day, tell their kids about the way they spent snowy days with Mom. It’s a funny thing, knowing that I only have them for a time. Oh, how I want to create memories. How I want them to look upon these days and know that they were absolutely adored. I realize, though, that they are young and they might not remember the minute details of our daily lives. They may forget the excitement they had when they created a bridge from the chair to the couch with the trampoline. They may not remember how they danced to the music that played from the radio all day. Their memory may be fuzzy about the conversation we had about how no two snowflakes are the same. . .Yes, I realize, they just might not remember.
One thing is for sure, though, I won’t forget.