The Easter Squirrel That Found Us

Easter Sunday. 

Kids running around, baskets in hand, hunting down eggs like their lives depended on it. When I look over to my husband and said "The kids said they see a squirrel." So I said "Okay leave it alone kids." Then our daughter says to me "Why can daddy hold it then?" I turned around and couldn't believe my eyes. Then I hear it...the inevitable discussion about how this flea-infested baby squirrel was coming home with us.😧

Here is the link to the last post about the squirrel/ animals. I figured I should tell you how she came into the picture.➡️https://navigatinglifewithruthie.blogspot.com/2025/04/turns-out-im-not-italian-but-honestly.html

I knew it. I just knew my husband wouldn’t be able to leave her behind. He might not look or act like it at times but he's a sucker for animals, especially baby animals.

So here we are. At home, with the baby squirrel. My husband gives her a D.E.(diatomaceous earth) dust bath, and just like that, no more fleas. 

Don’t get me wrong, I love animals. But let’s not forget that he works a lot, which means every pet somehow becomes my responsibility. And now, I’m forced to bond with this ridiculously adorable little squirrel.

 The next morning, she rode with me in my fanny pack, with a small piece of soft fleece fabric, while I brought the kids to school. She needed to stay warm from my body heat since it was such a cold morning. She even made a store run with me for puppy formula, which is what she needed (according to reddit), and electrolytes. She needed strength, and somehow, I had become her lifeline.

The name? Still undecided. Every day, I call her something different and then immediately change my mind. Hazel? Nope...too close to Diesel (our dog, who absolutely freaked out every time I said it). Munchkin, Peanut, Suzie (since she was found in Aunty Sue's yard). Nothing sticks.

After a few days, she was strong enough to run and climb, so we tried something. We let her climb a tree in the backyard, thinking maybe she’d want freedom. Maybe she’d run off. Nope. My husband stepped back, barely a foot, and she cried like an actual baby squirrel screech, then bolted straight down the tree after him.

I've never seen anything like it.

Now, while we can’t let her roam the house freely (thanks to four cats and a dog who love to investigate), she gets outside time daily and has her own cage when we’re not home. Oh, and she’s even made it onto TikTok.

So here’s the real question....what should we name her? Because at this point, she’s here to stay.

Turns Out, I’m Not Italian. But Honestly, That’s the Least of My Chaos...

 

Intro

Look, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about family, it’s that nothing ever goes the way you think it will.

For years, I confidently believed I was Italian. The traditions, the food, the slightly dramatic hand gestures. 🤌Then one day, I found out my mom was adopted, and BAM!! I was not Italian anymore. 

Turns out, identity is weird.

Turns out, family is even weirder.

I didn’t meet my dad until I was 25, so growing up, I never had the full picture of where I came from. And honestly? I’m still figuring it out.

But Forget Identity.....Let’s Talk About Survival Mode

At 31, I’m a stay-at-home mom managing two kids, full-time caregiving for my grandfather-in-law, and a husband who can’t resist adding to our household zoo—leaving me in charge of an ever-expanding parade of pets.

I swear, every time I turn around, there’s a new creature added to the family. He works full-time to provide for us, which means while he’s off being a responsible adult, I’m over here wrangling kids and feeding a small zoo.

At this point, I’ve accepted my fate. I am not just a mom. I am an unpaid caregiver, short-order cook, and now, a reluctant zookeeper.

Some days, I’m crushing it like a superhero. Other days, I’m sitting in my car, on the verge of tears, because the chicken’s still frozen, and dinner has officially become a mystery.

Caregiving teaches you patience (sometimes). It teaches you adaptability (always). It teaches you that love doesn’t look like fancy speeches. It looks like constant appointment reminders, making sure meds are given, and figuring out why the dog is suddenly limping,  why the cat started puking this week, or wondering if the newest addition (baby squirrel) will survive, oh and why there is a bat in my cats mouth, INSIDE THE HOUSE!

New "Rehabber"

BAT- that was safely released

It’s messy, exhausting, and deeply meaningful.

So, What Do I Do With All This?

I started writing.

I write about the traditions I’m holding onto. The ones that actually matter. I write about the ones I’ve let go of because, honestly, some of them were just stressful for no reason. I write about parenting, marriage, family, and the absolutely unhinged rollercoaster that is adulthood.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that family isn’t about who you came from, it’s about who shows up.

That’s the legacy I’m building. The one my kids will carry forward, the one that proves love isn’t about labels, heritage, or perfection. It’s about showing up, in whatever form that takes.

So, welcome to my corner of the internet, where I overshare, embrace the chaos, and attempt to keep my household functioning while living among a growing number of furry, feathered, and (probably someday) scaly housemates. 

Embracing Family, Acceptance, and the Power of Connection

Background

Growing up, I never knew my father, and I had little involvement with my paternal grandparents throughout my childhood. My mom kept in touch with my grandparents, and they always showed up for my sister and me, especially on birthdays, bringing a sense of connection. I carried curiosity about them, eager to understand where I came from, even as unanswered questions lingered.

As an adult, I’ve started uncovering the truths behind my childhood, choosing to reconnect with my father, and now exploring the possibility of meeting my half-siblings. Though I have moments of doubt, I’m staying optimistic and hopeful. Recently, I learned of my grandmother’s declining health and her transition to hospice. my husband has been nothing but supportive, so we gathered the kids and went on a short trip to their home in the next town over. 

A Fulfilling Visit That Changed Everything

I stepped through the door, greeted by the warmth of my paternal grandparents' home. Thanks to my mother and other grandmothers’ efforts to keep our family connected over the years, we had many heartfelt visits at my childhood home. But this visit felt different. My grandmother, now in hospice care, was declining quickly, and I knew that these moments together were fleeting.

Grandpa

My grandfather, the person I named my son after, is the kind of person who leaves a lasting impression with his quick wit and charm. He’s a natural talker, able to lighten any room with his humor and heartfelt conversations. Faithful and devoted, he has always been a pillar of strength for his family, embodying hard work and resilience in everything he does. Whether tending to his responsibilities or caring for my grandmother with unmatched dedication, he continues to inspire me with his steadfast love and unwavering commitment to those he holds dear.

Devoted Love💘

I arrived with a small stack of photos in hand, unsure of how the visit would unfold. My grandfather, always steady, humorous, and strong, had been watching over my grandmother with unwavering devotion as she navigated these final stages of life. But the moment he saw the pictures, his entire face lit up—eyes sparkling, posture shifting as if those memories breathed new life into him.

One photo stood out. An 8x10 of him and Grandma dancing at my wedding, frozen in a moment of pure joy and love. He held it with the kind of reverence reserved for treasures, his fingers tracing the edges as if he could step back into that day.

They have been madly in love for over fifty years—passionately, fiercely, in a way that defies time. And even now, as Grandma grows frail, he cares for her with the same tenderness as ever. Watching him ensure her comfort, anticipate her needs before she even speaks, and love her through every stage has been nothing short of inspiring.

I thought, what a powerful reminder of love’s unwavering strength—the way it evolves, adapts, and remains constant even through life’s most difficult transitions. It reshaped my perspective on family, devotion, and the importance of being present for the people who matter most, no matter the stage of life. It also connected deeply to something I’ve written about before—how my husband’s family shares the same commitment to showing up, inspiring me to be more intentional in how I do the same. related post 🠊 https://navigatinglifewithruthie.blogspot.com/2025/04/caring-for-grandpa-navigating-regret.html 

Grandma 💕

As I sat beside her, holding her fragile hand, memories of birthdays, holidays, and childhood laughter flooded back. This was the woman who had always been there at my Birthday parties, even as my relationship with my father remained uncertain. She embodies so much of what I cherish about family. She has always been such a beautiful woman, both inside and out—her kindness and warmth radiate in everything she does. She has this wonderful sense of humor and an easygoing, quiet nature, always willing to listen and effortlessly going along with whatever my grandfather says. I found it particularly funny when she would roll her eyes at the stories my grandfather would tell at our family dinners. 😂 She’s also creative and artsy, a quality I see reflected in myself, which makes me feel even more connected to her. Even as she grows frail, watching her in these moments reminds me of the incredible legacy of love, laughter, and creativity she'll be leaving behind.

Dad

And then, there was my father—someone I had only met in 2019. He has faced his own internal battles, ones that have shaped his presence in my life in profound ways. His journey has been complicated, filled with highs and lows, moments of clarity and others clouded by struggle. Yet here he was, sharing space with us, meeting Elizabeth for the first time. 

My father is an intelligent man with a gift for conversation and a strong work ethic. He has the ability to excel in his work, earning well and showcasing his skills, but he has faced struggles within himself that have created barriers along the way. Despite his hard work and potential, the setbacks he’s experienced have made it difficult for him to get ahead. Yet, his resilience and drive continue to shine through, and I’ve come to appreciate the layers of complexity that make him who he is.

Conclusion

This was more than just a visit—it was a moment of acceptance, a reminder that family doesn’t always fit into perfect molds, but it can still offer love, connection, and meaning in ways we never imagined, IF you let it.

Can you relate? Please tell me your story!

Caring for Grandpa: Navigating Regret, Resilience, and the Riches of Family

back in 2019, at our wedding, when he was still on his own

Introduction: Setting the Stage

Living in Grandpa’s home has been a whirlwind of lessons and realizations. At 85, he’s nearly blind and relies heavily on us. In early 2024 he unfortunately lost eyesight in his left eye due to a severe infection and had to have his eyeball removed. But here’s the catch: Grandpa isn’t your typical elder brimming with wisdom and warmth. He’s stubborn, grouchy, and carries the weight of a lifetime of regrets he’s too proud to admit.

As the granddaughter-in-law, I often find myself stepping into the role of peacemaker. His 3 kids—despite having every reason to walk away—never quite let go of him. They’ve stayed connected, showing a level of forgiveness and resilience that continues to inspire me. And so, here we are, navigating the chaos and contradictions of living in his home while caring for the man who sometimes seems determined to push people away.

Living Under His Roof: The Legacy and the Layers

Grandpa’s home is a reflection of his life—sprawling, a little disorganized, and full of stories that don’t always have happy endings. Managing the property feels like a balancing act between keeping things the way he like it and keeping things functional for our family.

Some days, it feels like we’re part of his kingdom, tasked with ensuring his wealth isn’t squandered while tiptoeing around his fiery moods. Other days, it feels like an emotional minefield—one misstep, and Grandpa is grumbling about how someone left a light on. Yet amidst the grouchiness, there are glimmers of vulnerability, moments where his regrets peek through, and I can see the man beneath the stubbornness.

The Caregiving Reality: Finding Meaning in the Mess

Caring for Grandpa is equal parts exhausting and enlightening. It’s in the small, everyday moments—guiding him to the kitchen, reading his financial statements aloud (while he critiques every number), his stories about childhood abandonment, and sitting with him as he reminisces about the “good old days” with a mix of nostalgia and bitterness.

There are days when his frustration boils over, and I feel like I’m running on fumes, trying to keep the peace. But then there are the unexpected moments of connection—like the rare times he smiles watching our kids play, or when he shares a nugget of wisdom that reminds me why his children stayed loyal despite everything.

Here is Grandpa enjoying the limited time he has left operating his favorite tractor. The kids love watching him 🥰

Here's Grandpa getting his haircut. He loves to have a clean cut.

Lessons from Grandpa: Regret, Love, and the Power of Showing Up

If I’ve learned anything from Grandpa, it’s that love is complicated. He’s a man shaped by his mistakes and his pride, yet somehow, his family continues to show up for him. His kids have taught me the value of forgiveness and the strength it takes to keep the door open, even when someone hasn’t earned it.

And for me? I’ve learned patience in ways I never thought possible. I’ve learned that caring for someone doesn’t mean fixing them—it means being there, even when it’s hard, even when they’re grouchy, even when you don’t know what to say. This is all too relatable since I grew up without a father being present.

 Moving Forward

Grandpa isn’t just a man we care for—he’s a reminder of the complexities of family. His regrets and stubbornness don’t define him; they’re just part of his story, a story that’s now intertwined with ours. Living in his home has taught us to find meaning in the mess, resilience in the face of frustration, and gratitude for the moments of connection amidst the chaos.

If you’re caring for someone like Grandpa—a little stubborn, a little grouchy, a little humorous but still loved—I hope you find the beauty in the contradictions, just as we have.

Have a caregiving story? We would love to hear it! Comment Below  ⬇️

Messy, Real, and Ours: My Family Story

 My family is loud, loving, and unapologetically real. We live in a house that’s never truly quiet, filled with laughter, occasional chaos, and moments that remind me that perfection is overrated. We are messy, imperfect, and deeply connected—and that’s exactly how I like it.

Meet the Family

• My husband: The fiery one, the protector, the one who feels everything deeply and reacts just as intensely. He’s passionate, sometimes stubborn, but always present in his own way.
• My kids: The energy in the house—the sibling duo that can go from fighting over crayons to hugging within seconds. They remind me daily that chaos and love are two sides of the same coin.
• Me: The one trying to balance it all—wife, mom, caregiver, and storyteller. I’m learning to embrace the mess and find beauty in the everyday moments.

The Beautiful Chaos: What Family Looks Like in My Home

   Family, in our house, isn’t just about picture-perfect moments. It’s about the mess, the noise, and the undeniable love woven into everyday chaos.

• It looks like… an explosion of toys across the floor, mismatched socks, shoes scattered by the front door no matter how many times I tell everyone to put them away, a kitchen counter crowded with half-finished projects, and my husband pacing, fired up over something completely trivial but undeniably important to him.
• It sounds like… my kids shrieking over who had the toy first, my husband’s intense voice calling out for order, me trying to intervene while simultaneously stirring dinner, and somehow, through it all, the occasional bursts of laughter that remind me we’re doing okay.
• It feels like… exhaustion mixed with fierce love, patience tested to its limits, and a deep knowing that even in the hardest moments, we’re building something real.

    Some days, it’s survival mode. The kids are screaming about who touched whose stuff, my husband’s fiery frustration fills the room, and I’m standing in the middle of it all with dinner boiling over on the stove. Other days, it’s all quiet chaos—random shoes scattered across the house, impromptu wrestling matches on the couch, and me frantically searching for a coffee mug that somehow got abducted by the kids. Every day feels like a beautiful mess, full of moments that range from hilariously absurd to deeply exhausting, but somehow, we always find our way back to love.

It’s in the wild debates over whether ranch dressing belongs on eggs (it doesn’t, for the record 😖), in the spontaneous dance parties in the living room, and in the fiery energy my husband brings that somehow anchors us even when it feels overwhelming. It’s imperfect, unpredictable, and occasionally downright chaotic. But at the end of every day—whether I’m scrubbing permanent marker off the walls or laughing at the complete circus we’ve created—I know this: this is home, this is us, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Navigating My Own Path

 Finding What I Want to Write About   

 Hi, my name is Ruthie! Welcome to my blogging journey. To this day, I still don’t know what "I want to be when I grow up." I used to think I had it all figured out. I started out as a housekeeper in a nursing home, then worked as a CNA, confident that I would continue my education to be a nurse. The compliments I received made me feel like I was doing what I was meant to do.

 But then life threw me a curveball: two kids, childcare costs skyrocketing, and an economic system that seems to punish those trying to get ahead. How do you justify paying someone else to raise your children, while you work just to cover the cost of paying them? It never added up for us. So, I became a stay-at-home mom and gave up more than I could have imagined—my financial, social, and mental freedom. 

I’ve been working since I was 13 years old, so stepping into this new role wasn’t easy at first. But as much as I struggled to adjust, I’ve discovered just how hard—and rewarding—it is to be a stay-at-home mom, wife, and caregiver all rolled into one. 

So, I figured, hmmm, maybe I should write about all these treasured, rewarding moments I’m learning about—because even in the chaos, there’s so much worth celebrating. And maybe, one day, my children will have something of value to reminisce on, a record of the love and effort that shaped these moments.💗

What Do I Say?

I’ve always known I have stories to tell, but deciding which story to focus on felt impossible. As I juggled the chaos of family life and caregiving, I kept asking myself: "What do I really want to say?" 🤔

Then, one late night, running on fumes after a long day filled with siblings fighting, caregiving responsibilities, and grasping for just a moment of peace, I found myself standing in the kitchen watching the beautiful chaos unfold around me, and it hit me....this is it. This is what I want to write about! Not the polished, picture-perfect version of life we see on social media, but the raw, messy, and heartfelt moments that make life truly meaningful.

Prime Examples of the Messy Moments

• The kids having too much screen time, but it helps you get things done in peace 😔
• Four cats fighting and the dog breaking it up, causing a raucous
• Grandpa asking me to heat up his dinner plate again because it cooled off too fast.
• My husband walks through the door after a long day at work, only to hear the kids arguing/ not listening, I instantly notice his frustration.
• Looking out the window and seeing that a chicken or turkey escaped the run again 🙄

The answer wasn’t in trying to find perfection—it was hidden in the everyday chaos, in the layers of love and struggle that fill my world. I realized that my journey, with all its imperfections, was exactly what I wanted to explore. ✅

Through this blog, I hope to show others that it’s okay to embrace the chaos, because that’s where the beauty lies—in the space between the moments of challenge and joy.

This is my way of navigating life’s layers, and I hope it inspires you to do the same. Let’s dive into this messy, wonderful adventure together.

What would you be interested in hearing more about? 

Comment below👇

💟Also, don't forget to check out my other new posts. 💟

Thank you!😁