On most days, my husband does the cooking for our family. There is good reason for this: the food tastes better and the kitchen is cleaner. He cooks; I clean. The world is right. Everyone is happy and fed, and I am not going insane because the dishwasher wasn’t loaded the way I want it.

During our six day weekend (thanks to the snowstorm), we did not follow our typical routine. Today is our first easing back into normalcy with a two hour delay. With the extra time this morning, my middle child and I made chocolate chip waffles for everyone else. In fact, I spent a lot of time in the kitchen during this snow storm. I made rice pudding (twice!), cookies, pork roast, and chocolate chip waffles.

I used my mother’s recipes for everything but the roast. I felt like my mom this morning as I folded the whipped egg whites into the waffle batter. I also felt an accumulation of memories and love. In the smell of the waffles on the griddle and the familiarity of the flavor with each bite I felt the security of my mother’s unwavering love.

My mother has spent her life feeding us love. Her love languages are acts of service and quality time, but that is only because cooking is not technically one of the five love languages.

My daughters love snow days because it has become a tradition to make rice pudding. It is time with me and it reminds them of being at Grandma’s house. My son enjoys the freedom from school and a chance to play together. I love snow days because they are days dedicated to nothing other than feeding love.

I have nowhere I need to be, and there is nothing I have to do. It is a vacation without a need to pack or drive, and it is time to be together. We play board games, read, snuggle up to watch t.v., we cook, and we eat… a lot.

Although my jeans do not love this unregimented time, it is time my family needs. They need me to put everything else aside and be with them. I struggle to remember this on a day to day basis.

There is always so much to be done, and all the chores of living can distract me from the lives growing around me. If they are going to grow in the security of an unwavering love, I need to remember to feed that love.

Some moms are naturally gifted at undivided attention, but I need a snow day here and there. Snow days remind me the outside world will carry on without my time and attention and so will my children. They will find food to grow on, and if I am not careful, it will not be from me.

Thank God for waffles and happy times around the table. I choose to feed love today, tomorrow, and the next day.

Hopefully, when my children make rice pudding with their children on snow days, the smells and tastes will be sweet memories of a mother’s love.





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