I grew up in Ontario, Canada. A beautiful place with kind people, maple syrup, and best of all: a snowy winter season. White Christmases were nearly a given and snowmen and tobogganing (that’s sledding, for you American folk) were after-school activities. Winter has always held a special place in my heart. I’m that crazy lady that, while everyone else is wishing the snow away, I’m praying for a blizzard.
I loved growing up in Canada and still consider it “home.” All of my childhood memories are Canadian and my whole family still lives there. So when I received a scholarship to UCLA for school and gymnastics, I exchanged my crisp autumns and snowy winters for beachy, Californian Christmases and palm trees. This adjustment was hard for me and my plan was always to move back to Canada. However, 11 years later I had met my husband, got married and had two California babies. Life. Am I right. Those plans you make that never go according to your sketches but turn out better than you could have ever drawn….that was this for me.
This past September we made a huge family decision and moved everyone out to Kansas City. I can’t even describe to you how excited I was to get those cold, snowy winters back. And now I had two of my own littles to experience it with. Doesn’t get better than that!
I’ve always been big into traditions. I love the excitement and anticipation of looking forward to something that only happens at a special time of the year, or month, or week (depending on the tradition). Our kids are three and one-and-a-half, so we’re just now entering the ages where they can understand and get excited for traditions.
Since before I even had kids, I had been dying to start a family tradition to pair with the first snow of the year. The magic of the first snow is unmatched—falling snow coating everything in glistening white, cozy snuggles by the fireplace watching the snow fall out the window—that’s what (my) dreams are made of (I may watch too many Hallmark holiday movies…). This year I was finally able to start that family tradition, and we landed on making “First-Snow Cookies.” And let me tell you…they were a hit!
The kids loved getting their hands dirty and helping Mama in the kitchen. Our daughter talked about the fact that it was snowing outside the entire time and kept looking out the window, squealing in delight. It made my heart so happy. Our little guy probably ate more cookie batter than he stirred. And the mess…Yikes. As a mom, I’m learning to worry less about the mess and focus more on the memories. It’s a work in progress. They stirred and mixed and tasted (a lot). They threw the eggs in (literally) and helped me measure and pour. Once the cookies were in the oven, they ran over every two minutes to take a peek and make sure the “First-Snow Cookies” were doing alright.
We all had a great time making something together. Would it have taken me seven minutes instead of 45 minutes to just do it on my own? Yes. Would I have avoided the crazy mess that ensued? Most definitely. Would there have been less egg shells to pick out of the batter? Hopefully. But would the kids have had as much fun? No! Would I have had as much fun? Absolutely not!
Making these memories with my littles is what I have been looking forward to most as a mother. Will they remember this year’s first-snow baking experience? Maybe not. But I sure will! And hopefully as the kids continue to grow up they will get excited for that first snow of the season and all the magic that comes with it.
If you’d like to make these heavenly cookies, check out the recipe!
Follow Elyse Null @ElyseNull