"We're riding in a wonderland of snow."

My body began to tire, as I trudged up the hill for what felt like the 100th time. I looked over at my daughter trekking right beside me, with snow up to mid calf -Her cheeks were candy apple red, as she continued to say, "one more time mommy!"

Mommy was spent from sleigh riding. My legs burned from excess muscle use, my face was cold, and my hands were numb. But the incredible joy on my daughter's face is what kept me going another time. So, I flopped my tired, overweight, backside onto that sled, wrapped my arms around my adrenaline junkie daughter, and we set-sailed down our backyard hill -while the snow misted our faces as we built speed.

I would do that 100x's infinity, if it meant I could see her that happy.

*My son likes to sleigh ride too, however, he is at a stage where he doesn't like standing in the snow -which usually results in crying. So I carry him up the hill as many times as I can, until fatigue sets in, then he stays housebound with my husband.

Snow days with my daughter reminds me of my days as a child. We all grew up sleigh riding -it was an intricate part of our winter. If a big snowfall occurred, all the neighborhood kids would gather on the nearest hill after breakfast. Where we all would continue to be until we were called for lunch and dinner -quickly biting down on our food, so we could rush back out to enjoy the crisp, winter air.

There's something magical about snow. When I see the trees and ground blanketed thick and white, while smelling the cold winter air, it immediately takes me back to those childhood days. I then get this overwhelming feeling of sharing those experiences with my children.

So as my body ages, I will still climb up that hill as many times as my children desire, because I don't just want my memories anymore, I want their memories too.