Moms

Want vs. Need

I attempted to explain this difference to my daughter this afternoon. She stood in the doorway of the dining room whining for I don’t even remember what. She cried, “I neeeeeeed it!”

You don’t need it. You just want it.

Desire can be a tricky little bitch.

You see… when you really, really want something so bad it physically makes you feel ill…

and that thing never comes…

Tonight I just so happened to get on WordPress via PC instead of my mobile app. I usually draft up ideas on the go, so blogging from my phone is just easier and more convenient. Anyway, I noticed a notification that I hadn’t seen because I was on the app. It noted that I had an unapproved comment, so I clicked to see what it was.

I have written about my mom reading and occasionally commenting on my blog. Well this comment was from her from way back in the spring of 2022, but I hadn’t seen it until tonight.

I got mixed emotions reading her words, but in the end it all lead to one sad realization.

A realization I come to very often.

I want a Mom.

An actual Mom. As in, one who kisses boo-boos (both physical and emotional). One who I could call up on the phone when I need advice on parenting, or to ask how to make homemade cookies, or for no particular reason at all. Oh, how I would call this Mom up. I would tell her I loved her and I would make Mom & Daughter adult planned mini-vacations for the two of us.

Seems silly saying it out loud.

I’ve invented entire scenarios with my make-believe mother. The one not engulfed in a seemingly endless battle with addiction. One who would admit their faults and love me the way a child should be.

I want that Mom.

Again, Want vs. Need.

I didn’t say I need a Mom. Haven’t since age 7. And the one woman that swore to love and raise me in place of the woman that actually birthed me deserted some of her children, while still loving and spending time with the others. I was not one that she chose to continue to love and cherish.

It hurts me most that my children are missing out on invaluable relationships and foundations that are essential in the success and psychology of a family.

The two “mothers” in my life have brought me the greatest heartbreak, biggest feelings of being deserted, and most pain of all experiences I have emotionally survived in my life.

I don’t want to carry that burden to my own children. I am a great Mom, that I know. Because one thing that I have learned in the short four years that I have been a Mom, is that a great deal of being a good Mom is done by just showing up for them. You may not always get it right, but trying again and committing to doing better the next time is all it takes. Nobody really knows what they are doing anyway.

I don’t need a mom. I do damned well without one.

But tonight, I wish I could call you just for the sake of it.

Under the Bridge

We ran out of milk this morning so I made a solo trip to the nearest Dollar General for some more early this morning. Just my luck, the store didn’t open til 8 and I got there at 7:40. That seemed like too long of time to sit and wait in the parking lot, so I headed down to the river to pass some time and look at the water. I have always found such serenity and peace by the River.

I wasn’t there for any more than ten minutes, but after more than a week locked in with sick kids, I needed this mini-trip to town to clear my head. I guess it was a win that I showed up to the store before they opened because otherwise I would have missed out on this beautiful scene that I was able to witness this morning as the early day glow was rising on the bridge. Surprisingly, I was the only one down there so I got to soak it in all by myself, almost as if the sunlight was put there to comfort a Mom lost in motherhood much like myself.

EOD Thoughts: 01.18.2023

Sickness has been running through our home off and on for the last two weeks. Seems like the Mom is never the one that gets to rest when illness runs it’s course.

The kiddos aren’t sleeping, battling fevers, but no puking so far (fingers crossed).

I am exhausted- still trying to work when I can while toggling sick children and a husband, I finished up my intermission college course and started a new semester, and if I have to change one more bedsheet I think I might faint… all on less than desirable rest. I have now forgotten the last time I slept through the night without being wakened by the needs of a crying, snotty-nosed child.

But I’m holding strong. Like all mamas do.

I will continue to wipe the noses, hold them in my arms, and look for the light of a new day.

… And to all a good night.

Christmas has come and gone in the blink of an eye, hasn’t it? It seems as though the years go by faster the older I get. I have come to the conclusion that a 40-hour work week does not give me the satisfactory amount of time to enjoy the parts of life that I love the most. I miss my family. I love the giving season. I wish we got more than one Christmas every year.

Although I generally struggle every holiday season, this year was a harder one than most – and I am still processing and internalizing my emotions to figure out why. Nonetheless… being back together with my siblings, gathering the grandkids, and just enjoying family company is good for my soul. (My six siblings and I have a total of ten grandkids, so when we get together it’s an event!)

We spent a lot of Christmas Day traveling and visiting others, and that always makes the day go by so fast. We woke up around 7:30 to open Santa’s presents followed by own families gifts. We left our house around 9:15 to head to my Mother-In-Law’s house and left there around 11:30. Went to Dylan’s dad’s house after and spent a few hours there. Finally got home around four in the afternoon, but considering it was Sunday just before dinner time, it did not leave much time for relaxing before work on Monday. Let’s start a petition to ban any Christmas from falling on a Sunday because the working mother in me is freaking out over a STILL messy house.

Maybe someday I can convince Dylan we won’t travel and that if people want to see us, they can come to us. I have tried with no luck yet. I just feel like a great portion of the day is spent driving and the kids get to open a bunch of gifts that they don’t even get to sit down to enjoy before we are on to the next stop.

Holidays are hard for a lot of people. My heart is with you if you are one of those people during this time of year. Sometimes it is hard to put that smile on. Sometimes Christmas doesn’t feel so jolly. That’s okay, too.

From ours to yours, have a wonderful holiday season and New Year!

The Brick House

I grew up in a brick house on Cherry Street. I was probably about the age of five or six, when I think back on it now. The yard wasn’t large and it sat on a small hill up from the sidewalk. It sits right in the middle of a municipality, so it makes sense that the yard is as small as it is.

It felt a lot bigger as a child. My sister and I had a swing set outside where I remember pumping my feet so high I was so sure I could fly if only I had the guts to jump from the seat. I remember digging in the dirt with a stick and my Mom telling me the story of how my Aunt tricked her into taking a bite of a huge worm because she told her it was a hotdog (Not sure if that’s true or not, but now every time I see a worm I envision a great big worm sitting atop a hotdog bun).

The house still sits in the same spot looking exactly as it did twenty years ago, and my childhood best friend still occupies the house across the street. It almost seems as if time hasn’t moved on, even though I have. The life that I knew within those four walls is much different than the life I know now. Occasionally I will drive down that block slowly, my attempt at grasping onto something that has been long since gone. I have come to realize that this was the last place I truly had a sense of innocence.

The last happy memories I cherish of my mother were had in that home. I remember my sister and I shared a bunk bed and our room was connected with our parents, only separated by door beads that made a beautiful song when walked through. My mother was always so good at decorating the home. Her bedroom had a beautiful Native American painting on the wall and a canopy that hung over their bed. We would swing on the tall poles of the canopy, chatting away, while watching A Bug’s Life.

I remember having daddy-daughter donut day at school with my stepdad (my younger sister’s father). My Mom and Rick came to my elementary school where we played hula hoop, ate donuts, and drank chocolate milk. I remember getting off the bus, running up that big hill to the house, and then cuddling up on the couch with my Mom while we watched Oprah. When I lost a tooth, I remember the joy of waking up with a dollar bill under my pillow.

We had TV dinner trays and we sat on the floor eating takeout every Wednesday night while watching “Fear Factor.” We would order spaghetti and garlic bread from the local restaurant La Gondola, or fried chicken meals from KFC. La Gondola to this day still has the best garlic bread.

I remember Christmas time with my Mom. I remember decorating the tree and not being able to sleep on Christmas Eve because the anticipation to open gifts had me wired to the core. She lit the spirit of the holidays in me from a young age, that I do know. The holidays were especially hard on me in my teen years as I mourned the memories of the mother that was the provider of all of these wonderful memories. And it wasn’t like she was gone. She was just away, living a life that I knew nothing about. One year my aunt and uncle surprised my sister and I with letting our mother come visit for Christmas. This was probably the first Christmas after we were taken from our Mom by DCFS. We had just moved in with our aunt, uncle, and our five cousins, so we had been in the process of adjusting to a new home, new school, and new cohabitants. My aunt came to my sister and me and said, “What is this mess in here?” Confused, we followed my aunt to the front corridor of the house where our mom popped out from around the corner. We ran into her arms and hugged her tight.

It is still hard to not get caught in the pain of missing her during this time of year. Although we shared less than seven Christmases together, a part of me still feels like she has been here. Right now she is sitting in prison and I have not talked to her in months. I try not to spend my time wondering how Christmas is when you are locked up in a state prison for seven years. My aunt and uncle gave us seven kids everything and more for Christmas. As an adult, I now wonder how the hell they ever pulled off buying all seven of us kids new bikes one year. Our blended family of nine committed to our annual holiday traditions, and it is something that each of us have since integrated into our own family’s celebrations. We held hands surrounding our tree of choice and sang “O Christmas Tree” before cutting it down. We made candy with Grandma and put out shoes for Santa instead of stockings. My sister and I experienced no lack of holiday spirit and cheer even though we weren’t spending it with the person that brought us into the world.

I do not spend a lot of time living in the past or dwelling on what is not. But sometimes, I enjoy jumping back into the world where life felt more simple. More innocent. A time of youth.

A time where the girl in the brick house felt no absence of her mother. A time where the snuggles on the couch were never going to end. A time where my essence was not based in the presence of what I am missing and continuously longing for.

I remember the good days. This Christmas and always, I miss you, Mom.

An Ode to Myself & My Family

I just wrapped up my last assignment for my final fall semester of college. I am now one semester away from having my degree – a feat that no one in my family has accomplished. But that’s not why it’s important to me.

I have fought for every inch I’ve gained in this life. I want something, I go get it.

I have worked through my school work all while actively serving my country (also a first in my family), working full-time, bearing and raising two children, and managing to stay (half) sane. Next spring I will have my Bachelors in Public Administration with a Minor in English to accentuate my honorable Military discharge and Associates of Arts degree.

None of this has been easy. I have progressed and succeeded without the help from any parents, but instead leaning on my husband and into the love of my children. I do it all for them. I yearn for the day where my family can see in the impact I have on our world, using the knowledge, skills, and experiences learned from my education and service to others. I want to be the good in the world that they never give up on.

Life is a challenging and messy road. Right now, so many aspects of our world feel hopeless, lost, and unnerving. I hope my family always finds stability, passion, and a strong foundation in the woman I am; for I am constantly in a state of construction, looking for ways to repair, build, and amend the pieces of me that are broken.

I hope they grow to notice and appreciate the values I try to live my life by. I hope they subliminally and intentionally adapt these values on their own, as being an honest and hardworking and appreciative person goes a long way in this world. I hope they never give up on their dreams, even if they feel unobtainable or of great lengths to reach. I started this journey in 2015 and will finally reach my goal in 2023. Many times it felt like I was on the wrong path or in the wrong place, but it has always played out in a manner that was better than I expected or anticipated. Life can feel so gloomy, but it can also bring the uplifting wonder of glorious surprise. I hope they never lose their sense of hope, for I too have been guilty of falling into the treacherous depths of depression and lack of understanding. I hope they choose not to lean against the feeling secured deep in their guts; the feeling of intuition and trust that is nearly always accurate in guiding us to the right path. Trust it. Lean into it. Let it guide you to the life you deserve.

Call me Mrs.

It’s been while! Just over 8 weeks since I last posted on here. It’s few and far between these days, with a full-time job, two kiddos, a new husband, and I’m also wrapping up a semester in college.

As the headline states… You can call me Mrs!

After six years dating, nearly four years engaged, and two kids later… Dylan & I finally tied the knot down south in Tennessee on 10/1. More to come on that, but I’ll leave you with a few photos from our special day!

I managed to put together our wedding & reception together in less than $10,000 (Todays average cost of a wedding is $30,000)!

More in-depth details to come later, but I wanted to introduce you to the new Chrissy Ruble 😊

The silence

Being alone

Is nice sometimes –

But other times,

The silence

Gets way too loud

It’s wedding week!

I’ve been casually MIA- for good reason.

6 days until “I do.”

I have planned our entire wedding in less than one year and under $10k dollars (which is nearly unthinkable today).

And did I mention… vacation?

Thursday morning at about 4am we will head to Pigeon Forge, TN where we will be married in the Smoky Mountains on Saturday. Send good thoughts, as the long travel (10-12 hour drive) we are asking of our families is what brings me the most worry.

I’ll be sure to update with plenty of pictures after the big day, but here is some of what we have been up to lately!! (Other than full time jobs, college, and wedding planning!

And even time for a date night here & there!

Now for final preparations and packing!!! 🤍💍

A Good Mom

A Good Mom never believes that she is a good Mom.

Perhaps, I suggest to myself, it’s just how I stroke my broken ego after a long day of chasing children around the house.

Who knew a three year old could push my buttons so quickly? No one warned me of this!

Or, maybe they did. I just didn’t listen.

Sometimes I wonder how I’m supposed to be the adult and parent two children. I mean, I don’t even want to call to schedule my own appointments, let alone be responsible for a tiny person?!

Seems bizarre, but I seem to be doing okay at it.

When I was pregnant the first time, I remember several women telling me, ‘It’s instinct. You’ll know exactly what to do.’

Oh? That’s your idea of good advice? I have no idea what I am getting myself into and I’m supposed to just trust that I will instinctively know???

But I think I am beginning to understand that they just might have been right all along.

It is easy to love wholeheartedly and be tender loving. It’s easy to want to be everything for your child. We worry because we care so immensely that we just beat the hell out of ourselves when we forget, or worry too much, or be too bold, etc etc. The list of things we beat ourselves up over really could go on and on and on. It’s so easy to be the person your children need. You may not be perfect, but I believe the love and care comes instinctively.

But, I digress.

We were made to do this. Motherhood often feels lonely and the unknown journey can be paralyzing, but we really are just all flying by the seats of our pants. No one reaaaally knows what’s going on, and if they claim to, run… Because those are the people that are waaaayyy too comfortable relying on the comfort of a world we longer live in.

The times are changing, but you are a good Mom. You possess the tools you need to make it through anything. Mothers of the world, we got this.