Snow days are usually a welcome respite in our busy schedules, a day for all of us to hunker down at home and alternate between relaxing and shoveling. Snow days during the 11th month of a pandemic are another story.

I got my first inkling of what was on the horizon when I scurried into the grocery store in the wee hours of Sunday morning. After several months of trying, and failing, to perfect online shopping and pickup, I’d given up on getting three packs of tortillas and no hamburger meat and started trying to figure out the least crowded hours to shop myself. Getting to the store first thing Sunday morning has been my window of opportunity.

As I pulled into the crowded parking lot, I felt my heart sink. I quickly tried running to the next closest store. Ominously, all of the grocery carts out front were already gone. Realizing that it was only getting worse, I double masked up, sprayed myself down with sanitizer, and in I went. The bread and milk selection was already minimal.

I was hoping that the schools would opt to keep the kids going with some virtual schooling. Coming off another boring weekend of staying home and twisting arms to get chores done, I really didn’t feel like extending that another two or three days into the week. At least virtual schooling gives them a few hours of human interaction with someone besides me.

I was overjoyed when Monday was announced as an asynchronous learning day and crushed when they announced an actual snow day on Tuesday. “Are you sure you don’t have some homework you could be doing,” I asked, every 5 minutes.

The punchline is that, of course, they did have some homework to do, but why waste a perfectly good day of being lazy when you can wait until 10 minutes after your mom goes to bed to bug her for help with your math homework. Trying to keep up with the snowfall, the battle to get my car and the sidewalks shoveled out began.

One able-bodied teenager was resentful that his quality video game time was being interrupted, and the other one kept trying to sneak off to finish construction on his giant snow igloo. Add a super-enthusiastic puppy and a 10-year-old who wants to be helpful, but can’t quite keep up, and the front yard was a battleground that needed constant supervision. The Wonderful Husband and I alternated trying to take work meetings and stopping the snow shovel duels.

Early Monday evening, I said “uncle” and went to hide under the covers at about 6:30. A day of being cooped up and forced into manual labor had everyone cranky. I could hear continued squabbles and barking and shouting as I pulled the pillow over my ears. Suddenly, though, the house went quiet. While I was mildly concerned that they’d finally run out of oxygen, I was enjoying the peace too much to investigate.

About an hour later, I heard my bedroom door open, and a freezing cold finger poked me. “Mom,” E whispered, “are you awake? You have to come outside, it’s beautiful!” I glanced out the window and could see that the snow was still coming down hard. Although I was nice and warm in my duvet cocoon, I knew that this was one of those nights that braving the cold would be worth it.

I quickly pulled on a few layers and headed outside, just as the WH and G were coming in to defrost. Duncan, seeing that we were getting dressed to come out, refused to come in with them, and busied himself tunneling under the snow, chasing snow mice.

As E and I made our way down the driveway, it was almost as bright as day as the snow-covered world amplified every bit of available light. Although the snow was still coming down, it was not unpleasantly cold. E brought her iPad along to take photos, and we ended up stopping every 10 feet to take another picture of an even more beautiful tree or bush.

“Did you ever do this when you were little, Mom?” E asked. Sure enough, I have many memories of walking in the woods during and after snow or ice storms. A clear, cold night with snow on the ground was the ideal time to go for a cross-country ski run. As we headed back to the house, E told me that she hopes that we have many more snowstorms, so we can take more walks like that one.

The next day was full of more shoveling battles, but there was also plenty of sledding, and snow fort building, and just all-around having fun. The WH even dragged out his snowshoes and the kids took turns trying them out. It seems that I’m going to have to invest in a pair for everyone in the very near future. Since our cross-country snow boots didn’t get used last year, it seems that everyone has grown out of them, too, but we will rectify that situation, too. I am suddenly finding myself we have a few more snow days this winter.

When we were finally able to escape for a quick run to the store, since apparently, all my kids do during a snowstorm is drink milk, the boys asked if we could have one of our “snack dinners” that night. “Snack dinner” is reserved for events like the Super Bowl, when everyone picks their favorite frozen appetizers, we get a frozen pizza or two, and we basically have a junk food fest for dinner.

We usually only do this once or twice a year, and it felt like just the right thing to differentiate our snow day from the last 300 days of staying home.

Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.