Snow Angel.

When I woke up yesterday, the day loomed like an Everest.

And as it progressed through the typical routine of school volunteering, mounds of laundry, toys strewn in land mine piles, stacks of dishes and a crumb-sprinkled floor, I wondered how I would squeeze in what was most important to me:

Connection with my Children.

Connection is one of the over-arching themes that guide my life, and when I am not connected, I'm not happy. Connection plays out in so much that I choose to do as a mother--choosing to be a stay-at-home mom, family meals together, Monday night family home evenings, family MTC's on Sundays, special holiday traditions, weekend activities, daily afternoon story times...

But the one part of connection that doesn't yet come easily to me is the daily one-on-one playtime with my children. This time of sitting down together and asking my children, "What is something you would like to do with me? What should we do together today?" I do it occasionally, but not nearly enough. And yet, even though it feels difficult, I crave this playtime so much. It's just that the cares of the day press in so harshly, that I too often connect with my to-do list instead of my children.

But through much prayer and fasting, the Lord has given me some new ideas to try--ideas that will hopefully help playtime become a little more consistent in our home...Like a little hand-sewn bag with activities I know they would enjoy doing with me written on popsicle sticks. I'm hoping to give them their "gift of time" on Thanksgiving to express my gratitude for each one of them.

But until I get the bags finished, I've been trying to connect daily so I can get in the habit before Thanksgiving arrives. And this is why yesterday tugged at me so much.

There was just so much to do and so little time. An internal battle waged within when I put my daughter down for a nap. My eyelids were drooping and I felt more than ready to curl up on the couch for a quick power nap. But then I glanced at the computer and knew how many tasks were waiting for me there. Then I noticed my son standing a ways off and was presented with yet another choice. Good, better, and best. It's what I face constantly. I hesitated for a moment and then pulled my son in close for a hug. "What would you like to do with me today?" I whispered in his ear. Today would be a "best" choice.

Before long I was knee-deep in the midst of a mountain of legos building cars for a "competition." The time flew so swiftly and I found myself enjoying every second.

After a while, my oldest son walked in from school and this time I didn't even let myself hesitate. We bundled everyone in coats, hats, scarves, gloves, and snow pants, and armed with my phone as a video camera, we stepped out into the magical winter wonderland of the first snowfall.

We slipped and slid and laughed and made snow angels till we were all sopping wet and cold.

Back inside, I taught my children how to lay out their wet clothes to dry, and then we all gathered in the warm kitchen for hot chocolate with sprinkles. It was one of the happiest times of my life...that is, until I noticed the microwave clock blaring the time: 4:50.

I had only a few short minutes before Patrick would be home and I hadn't even started on dinner yet. I threw the bread in the oven, started trying to cook the semi-frozen chicken breasts. The dinner mess was added onto the already large hot chocolate mess and chaos ensued inside me.

The rest of the evening was kind of a blur as we ate a hurried dinner so Patrick could go shovel snow at the church. The rest of us tried to clean up the kitchen and get ready for bed simultaneously. Then when Patrick returned, he helped the boys with their homework while I tried to organize my piano lesson things so we can begin lessons in the next few days. Family scripture study and prayers and then off to bed. I was nearly ready to collapse. The day had made a full circle--going from daunting to magical to stressful to spent.

I wasn't too bright or energetic as I tucked in the little ones. But as I knelt by my middle son's bed and gave him a hug, I whispered, "Thank you for building lego cars with me today."

Then as I was about to stand up, he held onto me and said, "I want to tell you a secret."

So I leaned in close and he whispered angelically in my ear, "You're the best mommy in the whole world!"

I melted inside. The chaos, the unchecked to-do list, the messes, the stresses...they were all worth it. Because at the end of the day, I was "the best mommy in the whole world" in the eyes of my son.

And these connecting memories we choose to make?

They will be the glue that fastens and holds our family together.