The Gift of the Present

Last week we were given the gift of a snow day here in NY. Even as an adult, the excitement was palpable for the upcoming storm. Supermarkets were crowded with people stocking up with staples like hot cocoa and baking items. Salt and shovels were being purchased and kids were anxiously anticipating a relaxing day off from school either in person or on zoom. We haven’t had a snow day in quite some time and with the current pandemic that has left us home more often than we would like, it was still a welcoming feeling to know that we would have a day to just spend with family, watching the snow fall from our cozy homes and hoping there would be enough on the ground to play and build with the next day. Personally, I am not a fan of the cold and typically dress in layers the moment the temperatures hit below 50 degrees. I much prefer to spend the day baking, doing an art project or watching a family movie with my kids than play in the snow, but am still willing to sacrifice my comfort to bring smiles to their faces. That morning, I woke up before everyone else to get some exercise in and time for myself before starting what I anticipated to be a kid oriented day. My 9 year old was the first one to come down the stairs and I eagerly asked her what she would like for her special snow day breakfast. “ Do you want me to make fresh pancakes? “ I asked “or should we bake a cake?” She quickly smiled as she politely declined, opting for a bowl of cereal and her iPod instead. Not what I expected, but I figured she would be happy to do something different and fun once she had her fill of food and t.v. time. My other teenage kids slept late of course, and were content to remain in pajamas and hang out with their friends via social media from the safety of their bedrooms. Throughout the morning I asked my nine year old if she wanted to bake something special for Shabbos or paint on canvases or even go outside to play in the snow. She did perk up when I suggested that idea but asked if I could invite our neighbor to play with her instead of me. While secretly I did breathe a quick sigh of relief that I wouldn’t have to venture out into the cold, wet snow, I wondered what I would do with all this time to myself and how quickly I got to this point in my life. As a mom, snow days were all about cooking and baking, finding endless projects to keep the kids happy and content, and lots of bundling, dressing and wet scarves and gloves as we built snowmen and made forts and wiped runny noses while warming frozen cheeks and toes. Now, all I was left with were a few quiet hours to myself to cook for Shabbos and read a book since no one was interested in spending their snow day with me.

To be frank, if someone would have asked me if I would enjoy some quiet time to myself a few years ago, I am sure I would have jumped at the chance without hesitation. But now, the memories of fun filled snow days with mommy being the superhero with all the fun ideas were just that; memories. And I was left to serve hot chocolate to the kids and watch the fun from afar or observe the quiet from most of the house. Gone were the days of being told “ I’m bored” and instead were replaced with endless stretches of loud silence and clean rooms. I know that sounds like a definite reason to celebrate rather than complain but it did make me feel a bit sad to realize just how quickly time flies. So often in life we think and talk about how happy we will be when we can finally relax, when the kids are old enough to be self sufficient, when we can finally get that Shabbos nap in or read a book uninterrupted. But while we are busy doing that, we may miss the opportunity to appreciate and relish in the amazing beauty of the here and now. The precious moments where we are the cause of our kids’ smiles, the answer to their sadness with a sweet hug, and their pain with a kiss to their booboo. A time where we can save the day just by reading them a story, building a lego castle or coloring a picture alongside them. Falling into bed each night exhausted from breaking up their sibling fights, bathing and dressing on repeat, cleaning up spills and snuggling and cuddling.... those are moments to cherish. Because as soon as you blink, they are gone. And your kids are big. And they spend most of their time with their peers instead of with you. And you’re sad because you miss them but you are glad that the are succeeding at becoming independent people who are happy and thriving. Just like you intended them to be. So as soon as I came to that realization, I decided to take in this current moment too. I marveled at how big my kids were getting and how lucky I am for being granted the chance to watch them grow and flourish. I smiled as I watched my nine year old play with my neighbor in the snow without me and felt content that my other teens were spending some much needed down time with their friends, feeling safe and secure that my husband and I have provided them with a warm and safe environment to thrive. And I tried to relish the few quiet moments that I had to cook in my kitchen without being bothered.

As someone who is organized, it is always hard for me not to think about the future, plan for unexpected, and anticipate things before they happen. But thanks to my kids, I am slowly learning and trying my hardest not to worry so much about the future and things that are out of our control and instead be content with the gifts that are being placed right in front of me this moment- the gift of the present.