Military Spouses--Take Care of You!

You know who is the absolute worst when it comes to self-care? This girl! Seriously, for all the times I've told friends to take care of themselves, I categorically ignore my own good advice. All the time. And you know what? It's not just me that suffers...

I don't have time for me... and so I'm stressed out and edgy with my husband and kids.

Next time, I'm sure I'll... except I never do, because when you're a wife/mom/insert-laundry-list-of-titles-for-a-military-spouse-here, there's always more to do. There's always a burner further back, and that's always where we shove ourselves.

But you know, it seems so selfish...except when I take care of me, I'm a better wife/mom/insert-laundry-list-of-titles-for-a-military-spouse-here, and I know it, and yet I always have excuses.

Military Spouses, it's time to call B.S. on all the excuses and carve out some time for a sanity check. And I know just the place to do it!

The Second Annual Military Spouse Wellness Summit is coming up October 17-22, and it's brought to you by InDependent, Corie Weathers, and Armed Forces Insurance.

This is a completely virtual summit, filled with great content from really incredible speakers, all geared toward giving spouses the tools to care for themselves, and for their marriages. Because, let's face it, all too often quality time with our spouses is right on the adjacent back burner to care for ourselves.

Reasons this event is awesome and absolutely for you?

1.   Participate in your PJs, on the go, in your office, while trying to wash the disgusting out of your spouse's PT gear, or waiting for your kids to finish whatever practice you're patiently enduring--it's virtual!!

2.    The Summit is on your schedule--watch what you want, when you want!

3.  There are prizes for participating, including a grand prize trip--an oceanfront getaway for two donated by the Military Benefits Association!

Here's the best part: if you purchase your VIP ticket before October 1 with code EARLYBIRD, your admission is just $15! (that's 44% off!). This ticket gets you access to downloadable interviews, a one-year membership to Thrive Market, access to the private Facebook Group for the event, and a chance to win our fantastic prizes!

PURCHASE TICKETS BY CLICKING HERE.

So, who's in? Let's take some time to take care of ourselves, so we can help our marriages and families THRIVE.

This is My #MilKid

Yesterday was Howie's birthday. His FIFTH birthday. I can't tell you how mind-blowing that is to me. Where did the time go?

This year Howie's birthday was a really low-key affair. Jake is gone (again, though thankfully, not to a war zone this year), and so we had a party for Howie a couple of weeks ago before he had to leave at the Antique Firehouse, where Howie and his friends (and the dads) got to dress up like fire fighters and go for a ride in a vintage fire truck!

So for his actual birthday, I just took rainbow cupcakes to Howie's school as a treat for him and his classmates. Being the birthday boy, he got two cupcakes: chocolate, with the brightest blue frosting I've ever seen.

I think it's pretty safe to say he enjoyed them. And I enjoyed the fact that HEB's VERY brightly colored frosting washes out of clothing easily with warm water.

Early in the day though, before school or any discussion of sweet treats, Howie woke up and came running down the stairs with an exuberant "It's my birthday!!" 

Then a brief pause, followed by "It is my birthday, right Mommy?" The poor kiddo still does not understand why one might celebrate a birthday on any day other than the actual birthday, so having his party early has thrown him for a loop.

After a small amount of convincing, we turned our attention to getting ready for school. Before we left the house, Howie decided we should document the moment ("Take my picture Mommy, I'm showing you five!"). After I snapped his picture, I said "Let's make a video, baby." I wanted to make for myself a reminder of the way my sweet boy's mind is working at five years old, because he won't stay there for very long.

I asked Howie to tell me about his favorite things, thinking he would talk about his Ninja Turtles or his Legos or his airplanes. His answers, though, really floored me.

Floored. I ask Howie about his favorite things, and he doesn't talk about things at all. No, what came to his mind was Daddy. Flying airplanes with Daddy. Playing Legos when we visited Daddy at Ft. Riley. Wanting Daddy to be home. Wanting Daddy to be safe. As I watched the video back with Howie, I was struck with pride that my little person understands what's really important (time with loved ones). But I was also just a little heartbroken that someone so small has already learned absence, and how to worry about someone else. 

That is what it is to be a military kid. It means understanding, way too soon, that moments with our loved ones are precious and life is far too short. It means shouldering emotional burdens that are difficult for adults to bear, yet somehow maintaining the spark of childhood. And although I'm completely in awe of this sweet boy of mine, I know that he's not unique in this respect. We've been at war for over thirteen years. There are milkids who have spent their entire childhoods walking this path.

It really makes only one month of recognition seem wholly inadequate. So to my little hero, and to all of the other little heroes out there, facing more of war than most grown-ups in this country, all I can say is that you are awesome. Truly, unequivocally awesome.

#VOTE, and Again I say VOTE!

I've been talking a lot lately about the importance of voting this election season. Maybe it's because the military families community has had such a rough run with our leaders on Capitol Hill this past year. Maybe it's because I'm sick of gridlock. Maybe it's because the more I study the issues, the more urgent the need for an informed and engaged electorate becomes in my own mind. 

What I know is, right now our government is so fractured it's a wonder they can agree on what to eat for lunch (maybe they can't), let alone agree on what's best for this country. I see our servicemembers spread ever thinner by shrinking benefits and growing deployments, our education resources dwindling, our next generation being crushed by the debt incurred to be educated, and our economy still shaky from years of uncertainty and slow recovery. And all I can think is "we MUST do something!"

So I've tried. I've worked on educating local voters. I've urged you to vote as a way to honor the sacrifices that gave you, and continue to protect for you, the right to vote:

And I've voted myself. The only thing that remains is to urge you, ask of you, plead with you--please vote! Whoever you vote for, whether you choose my candidates or not, whether your candidates win or not, please please vote. The only way we make change in our leadership is through an informed, engaged electorate. Vote TODAY! And if you need information to help you vote, visit vote411.org.

And for those of you who happen to be all about elections today, join me online! I will be participating in ABC 13's Your Voice, Your Vote Livestream, where we will also be live tweeting at the hash tag #abc13vote.  We will be broadcasting from 7-11pm, and I will be around starting at 8pm. You can join us here:

http://abc13.co/abc13RH+

Homecoming is...Complicated.

It's been two months to the day since Jake came home from Afghanistan, and I think I'm finally ready to write about our homecoming. Sound odd? Let me explain what I mean by that.

Ever watch those homecoming videos people post? Sometimes the news picks them up, sometimes they're just floating around out in the YouTubesphere. They're always beautiful, tearful, and joyous. I'm pretty sure I've never made it through one dry-eyed. For a split second, anyone watching those videos can catch a glimpse of what it's like to be a military family, welcoming home their loved one, safe and sound. It's really beautiful, and for a nation generally removed from military life, it's also really important.

Here's the problem with those videos, though. Watching them is like getting the Disney princess movie version of military life--a little adversity, a race to the "happily ever after," followed by "The End." But every adult watching the movie knows "The End" is not really where the story stops, and "happily ever after" is not quite what it looks like in the movies. So it goes with reintegration after deployment.

You all read about Howie and my harrowing journey to welcome Jake home. And any of you connected with me on Facebook saw the album of our homecoming, filled with beautiful pictures by fellow military spouse Rachel Spinuzzi. It was amazing, really. And there was laughter and tears of joy, lots of hugs, and all of the things you would expect from the reunion of a family long-separated. And in case you missed it, I included it here:

Photo Gallery by QuickGallery.com

Our homecoming happened around midnight on a Wednesday, so in addition to the joy there was also exhaustion, loading and unloading bags and bags of gear in the dark, and a little person so far beyond his bedtime he was going to go nuclear any minute. Still we were so thrilled to see each other we took it in stride.

Jake didn't have a place at Ft. Riley yet, so he came home to a hotel; the room was nice, and the hotel had a pool, so that was okay. It just meant that later Jake would have to find a place to truly unpack and settle. Still thrilled to be together--home is where the heart is.

Then one of my partners started calling and emailing incessantly with work that could easily have waited until I got home, but that she insisted had to be done immediately, wherever I was. Of the two days we spent in Manhattan, I spent over half of it working. But Jake hadn't seen Howie in ten months, and, again, there was a pool. So father-son time would be on the menu and that's still okay. We're still thrilled. Even if we're a little annoyed that work is taking mom away again.

On Friday, we drove to Kansas City to spend a fun weekend. It's actually a really great city for families, and we always have a good time. We took Howie to T-Rex Cafe for a late birthday celebration.

Photo Gallery by QuickGallery.com

Howie was in the worst mood, though, and behaved horribly while we were there. And that's when we started to see the shine fade off of the "just thrilled to be together." Jake hadn’t dealt with a child's willfulness in ten months, and had very little patience for it. 

Lunch set the tone for the rest of the day--as often happens with a cranky little person--and by the time we were headed to dinner at Fritz's Railroad, we've all just about had it.

I mean, we're at a restaurant where you dial your food up on a vintage telephone, and it's delivered via miniature locomotive, and still it's a struggle to have fun. Fortunately, as dinner went on things relaxed. We got ice cream afterward and by that point all was right again. 

Photo Gallery by QuickGallery.com

Saturday was a new day, and an exciting one for Howie. Kansas City, for him, means one thing—Legoland.  We got there early to participate in Legoland’s Easter egg hunt, and Howie was thrilled.  But it took him about five minutes to completely forget about the egg hunt—too much Lego fun to be had.  He road rides, built race cars, and even bogarted a guy’s attempts to build a Lego Eiffel Tower.  And Daddy let Howie pick out a Lego airplane from the store for his birthday.  

Howie had so much fun that he didn’t want to leave.  Which resulted in more fits and the stress that goes with it. Fortunately, by the time we got to the Crayola Café for lunch he’d calmed down.  He met the Easter Bunny and got some chocolate, then suddenly all was right with the world.  Because chocolate.

After nap time, we went to Kansas City’s Grand Central Station—a truly beautiful building—to check out the museums it houses.  We visited their miniature train exhibit (FREE to the public), and Howie loved it.  When it closed, we took the bridge over the train depot and found a great German Biergarten where we had a lovely dinner.  Howie and Jake capped the day off by building the Lego airplane.

Photo Gallery by QuickGallery.com

Sunday morning, we went back to Grand Central Station to have brunch at a great old restaurant for Easter.  And because we were there, of course we hit the miniature train exhibit again.  I have a feeling that it will be another required stop on Kansas City trips from now on.

Howie took a quick nap, then we went to see Disney’s Bears Movie, which we all really liked. The theater we found was amazing, and every seat was a recliner.  An adjustable recliner.  Which Howie played with throughout the movie.  It drove Jake nuts, and probably would have really annoyed other people too, but fortunately there was no one else in our row.  After the movie we stumbled upon another (FREE) miniature train exhibit, which we checked out before Jake took us to the airport.

So if you’re counting, that means we were together for five days.  After ten months apart.  Yeah.

Parting ways at the airport was downright excruciating.  Howie was sad; I was heartbroken. It was not enough.  Not enough to make up for lost time.  Not enough time to process.  Not enough time to (try and) ease back into a routine, or get used to each other again.  Heck, to get to know each other again. No matter how you slice it, not nearly enough.

Homecoming isn’t “happily ever after.”  I think for most military families, homecoming is catharsis.  It’s finally being able to lay down the burden of constant fear for our soldiers, our families, our households, and our sanity.  It’s like exhaling after holding your breath for a long time. It’s ‘I’m no longer solely responsible for whether my family is okay or not.’

But homecoming is catharsis only for a moment, and then it’s the beginning of a long process. “Reintegration” is what we call it. Really it’s rebuilding families, marriages, relationships between parents and children. It’s undoing the months of independence necessary to weather deployment, to put a family unit back together.

For remote families like mine, it’s reintegration-interrupted. It’s months of critical family-building work crammed into the days we can snatch here and there to be together, basically starting over again every time we reunite. It's frustrating, sometimes disheartening, and sometimes a little scary. 

And for us, it's a work in progress. Probably, that's why it took so long for me to write about it--we're all still processing. But certainly, that's why any of you who have asked about homecoming, and how thrilled we are to finally be back together, have gotten a mixed reaction from me.

Don't let that stop you from asking. Questions like that may be hard to answer because, well, it's complicated. But it shows you care, and military families really appreciate knowing that people see them, and care, and are thinking about them, and rejoice with them. Honestly, having so many of you rejoicing for us gives us room to sort out the rest.

My Little Trooper

When I look at this picture, my heart warms and breaks all at the same time. It was taken during my Army Spouse of the Year photo shoot several weeks ago. We had just come from a park, where Howie was super happy (see yesterday's photo), to the U.S. Army Reserve Airfield in Conroe, where he certainly was not. 

It really took me off guard. Howie loves helicopters, and always loves visiting Jake at work. I thought for sure that he would be happy to be at an airfield again for the first time in months. I was wrong. 

Airfields mean "Daddy," and Daddy wasn't there. I had prepared Howie for this fact, but when the truth truly set in, I could actually see the heartbreak wash across his face. He didn't want to be there without his Dad. He hugged his Daddy Doll tight, leaned into me, and let the tears roll. Such is the life of my Little Trooper. 

You heard from me yesterday about Howie's resilience (in spite of my own shortcomings). But since April is the Month of the Military Child, let me tell you just how strong this Little Trooper really is.

For all of his four years on this earth, Howie has been a geobach kid: Jake has always been stationed away from us. Howie has never known a time when he could consistently come home from school and find his Dad waiting there. Normal is not having Daddy there to help him get ready for school or church, or to tuck him in at the end of the day. Ordinary is Daddy not being able to make school functions, or take Howie to friends' birthday parties. Typical is telling Daddy after the fact when Howie gets to do something cool.

This year with a deployment has been especially hard. But long before Howie could tell you what "deployment" means--and boy can he! Just ask him!--he understood what sacrifice meant. It meant that Daddy was working to protect everybody, and that means having to be away from us. It meant we can be sad when we have to say good-bye, yet again, or upset about driving for hours just to be together, yet again, but that it would happen. Daddy loves us, but right now he doesn't belong to us. Howie has known this his entire life.

Until Howie was two, Jake was stationed at Ft. Polk in Louisiana. It's about three hours from Houston, and so every Friday we would make the drive there, or he would make the drive here, so that we could spend the weekend together. If you do the math, that means that in each of those two years Howie spent less than a third of his time--about 120 days--with his Dad. Howie hated Sunday good-byes, but honestly it shocked me just how young he was when he picked up on "Daddy Math"--he learned to count to five so that he could count down the "in between" days. 

"Only four days, Mommy!" 

"Only three days, Mommy!" 

I would smile and count with him, even as my heart ached at the percentage of time that was "only" in the way of being together. He was wishing away his littleness. So was I sometimes, and I hated it. I still hate it.

At the end of 2012, Jake was transferred to Ft. Riley, Kansas. Now, Daddy is a three hour flight, plus a two hour drive away. We changed from an every weekend family, to a twice-a-month family. About five days out of every thirty between Christmas of 2012 and July of 2013 belonged to us. Except in May, when pre-deployment training meant we didn't see each other at all. 

Howie can't count a month's worth of days, and had a very hard time at first. He was frustrated, and didn't understand why Daddy Math was failing him. Why "Friday" no longer meant our family would be together. Howie started asking me which were "Daddy Fridays" and which were "not Daddy Fridays." In a week with a "Daddy Friday," he would do Daddy Math. But he decided that he didn't like "not Daddy Fridays," so he started asking me about Mommy Dates instead. 

"Mommy, is it a Daddy Friday this week? Or a Mommy Date this week?"

A shift in thinking. I could not believe my little boy's wisdom, and willingness to take Monty Python's advice about the bright side. He could be sad Daddy wasn't there, but he'd rather be happy that Mommy is. I never thought I would learn so much about perspective from my little person.

In July 2013, Jake deployed to Afghanistan, and yet again Howie had to adapt. No Daddy Fridays--no Daddy at all. For 260 days, through Thanksgiving and Christmas, New Years, and birthdays, Daddy had to be "far away in Gas Can, helping people." And Daddy "can't come home until he finishes helping people."  So Howie would explain his life to people who asked.

There were times filled with lots of talking through questions, and lots of tearful hugs. It was hard to watch Howie miss his Dad so much, even as I too was missing him. But Howie amazed me again with his ability to adapt. "Daddy is a hero,"  he asserted, "and heroes have to go far away sometimes, even when they don't want to, because it's important to take care of people."  He loves Superheroes, and he decided that Afghanistan must be, like Superman's home planet or Green Lantern's planet, very far away. One time he told me:

"we're okay, Mommy, that's why Daddy can help other people. Because we're okay." 

Floored. Sometimes, the kid has ten times my emotional maturity. Or more likely, he has his Dad's servant heart and desire to help other people.

For months he relished the Skype dates and occasional cards from Jake, and loved making boxes to send Daddy; he would have conversations with his Dad on his play telephone, and occasionally I'd catch him kissing Jake's picture with a quiet "I miss you!"  He told me stories about what Daddy must be doing in 'Gas Can,' and made plans for what they would do together when Daddy came home.

What I never said, and what he never would have understood, is that homecomings, joyous as they are, are fleeting for a geobach family. It's days together after months apart, and then it's right back to being apart.

I haven't even tried explaining that to him. I don't want him thinking about the next good-bye, or the many that will follow after that.

I wish I could make it so that my sweet baby boy never had to say good-bye ever again. I wish I could make that huge empty space that so frequently finds its way into our family go away forever. But I can't. No military family can; "mission first" is the life we live. Military kids are resilient because they have to be; they have no choice.

What's incredible is just how resilient they are. Over 99.5% of American adults choose not to serve and make the sacrifices that these kids are called to make, that Howie makes. Yet they just do it, and often better than the adults do! Awe-inspiring is what that is.

By the time Howie turns five next year, our journey with the military will be over, and we will finally be together. No more Daddy Math, or Daddy Fridays; they'll be replaced with Daddy Everydays, and I can't wait! And Howie is so young that Daddy Everydays will quickly become his new normal--when he's older he may not even remember what it was like to always be apart; how much he had to give up; how often we had to say good-byes or how much his Daddy had to miss.

He'll never know just how tiny he was when he learned to be brave, and put this whole country's needs in front of his own.

But I will remember. My Little Trooper is one of the strongest people I know.

No Kind of Superhero

"Mommy, Green Lantern used to be a soldier, like Daddy."

"And Green Lantern is a pilot, like Daddy."

"And Green Lantern goes to far away places to help people, like Daddy."

"So, Daddy can't be Superman, Mommy. Because he's Green Lantern!"

So went the conversation with my son on the way to school last Friday. I smiled as I listened to the three-year-old analytics that went into deciding precisely where in the great pantheon of superheroes my husband fit. Sound logic, kiddo, I thought as I mulled his explanation, which was far more detailed than I would have expected. Of course, he then proclaimed himself Superman. Howie alternates between Superman and the Flash.

It's actually one of his favorite games to play, assigning roles from books and movies to his real-life cast of characters, and he especially likes to pretend we are all superheroes. Most often, he tells me I'm Elastigirl, which is actually a pretty fitting description: a mom, stretched in many different directions, trying to figure out how to stretch just a little bit further.

Honestly, I think Elastigirl is one of the better metaphors out there for moms in general.

And more honestly, when we play Howie's game, I'm usually thinking, with a chuckle: I'm no kind of superhero, kiddo.

*********

A few weeks ago, I was named Army Spouse of the Year, which is HUGE and AMAZING and I got so many messages of congratulations and encouragement from all of you. It's really incredible, and I'm so excited. My work for military families has really helped my heart and kept me sane these many months with Jake away, and I'm so excited for the opportunities this coming year will bring me!

But the week after the Big Announcement, by contrast, I wrote a far less chipper post about another major milestone: 200 days of deployment. I have to tell you, the response I got to that post might have been even more overwhelming, and even more encouraging.

I realized, by talking to many of you, that sometimes we need reminding of what's true--no one has it all together all the time. Everyone struggles, even when we don't see it; even when it's not apparent on the surface; even when amazing things are happening; even when it looks like they've got it all figured out.

So it's OK that I'm no kind of superhero? 

Oh good, because honestly I had no idea how I was going to live up to the hype!

Most of the time lately I feel like I'm just getting by. I have had far more "sheer force of will" days than I would like. You know, the kind of days where everything is harder than it should be? And you just want to throw your hands up in frustration? Those days.

Last week I avoided my blog, partly because of the No Dumps Day Rule, and partly because it's just that time in a deployment. I've hit the wall. Again. We are nearing the end, but still have several weeks to go. That makes every day longer. We are almost back together, soon we will be; but frankly, soon seems really really far off. And suddenly Jake coming home is all anyone wants to talk about.

I am starting to (frequently) hear "Oh you must be so grateful he will be home soon!" While that's true, it's the last thing I want to hear.

Really that just reminds me of how long we've been apart!

He's not home yet; don't jinx it! 

Stop saying "soon" because my kid thinks "soon" means "tomorrow!"

These are the things I think to myself. Then I feel guilty for not being grateful and resolve to change my ways...until the next time the conversation pops up and, like a reflex, I'm wistful once again. It's a vicious cycle, the "I should be happy" cycle. Left to my own devices, I might just get stuck in it.

That's why we need each other: strength in numbers, right? Sometimes we need support, and sometimes we just need someone to tell us "snap out of it!" A stiff drink or a swift kick in the pants, eh? Justice League, Avengers, Incredibles--even superheroes have figured out that they're better in teams, just as much to push each other as to work together!

Or, better yet, communities. Because communities don't just pool strengths; they also bond and learn and grow through weaknesses. Communities recognize that strengths make you formidable, but struggles and trials make you relatable.

I've been very grateful for my community lately; it's been an incredible place for me to draw strength from. And I really hope sharing my struggles gives a little something back. I hope what it shows is that you can do some real good, even when you don't have it all together. Maybe especially then.

When A Lawyer Fell for an Enlisted Guy

Jake and his unit rescued this puppy in Iraq.

So, on the one hand, can you blame me? I mean, look at the guy! And he saves puppies! But in all seriousness, since Valentine's Day is just around the corner, I wanted to take a moment and tell the unlikely tale of when a lawyer fell in love with an enlisted guy.

If you can believe it, this one actually does start out "Once upon a time in a far away land..."

I was traveling in the Philippines, working on a case for my longest-running client, the island Province of Marinduque. Yes, a Province in the Philippines is my oldest client. I've been working with the Province for eight years (since I was a baby lawyer!) on a case involving environmental damage done by mining practices on the island.

By 2007, I'd been traveling to the Philippines for a while, and I had built quite a few friendships there. Manila's is a transient culture, like so many international cities are now. New people join your group of friends for the week/month/whatever amount of time they are in country, then part ways, sometimes keeping in touch on Facebook, sometimes not. And that's where the story really starts.

It was a warm spring evening, and I was with four girlfriends having dinner at an outdoor tapas bar. We were in the center of the Greenbelt area of Makati City, which is almost always packed with people, especially in the evenings. Like the rest of Greenbelt, Cafe Havana was also packed. So no one was surprised when two strangers came and sat at our table. They were two guys, just looking for a place to grab dinner, recently in country. They were both nice. They were vague on the details of their work, although I had them pegged for some kind of military. One was a big flirt trying to grab every girl's attention, the other was quieter and content to take in the spectacle. 

I didn't really talk to either of them that night. I was happy spending time with friends I didn't see often. But they joined our little group for the week they were in Manila, and a few nights later the quiet guy started talking to me (the other one continued to flirt with everyone, eventually causing all manner of drama in that circle of girlfriends; but that's another story). The quiet guy and I quickly learned that we shared southern roots, Christian faith, similar upbringings, and a love of travel. 

We met in the tropics, so we married in the tropics.

So a couple of days later when we parted ways, it wasn't goodbye as it usually is with transient friends. It was the beginning of our lives as pen pals, a tradition we keep to this day. We started writing each other right away, and with every passing message we learned we had more and more in common. When I met him I knew he was special, but he won my heart with his words. Not with elegant, well-constructed phrases; Jake will be the first to tell you that writing is not his strong suit. But I could see his spirit on the page--strong but humble, confident and loving, a sense of humor but with a keen sense of the feelings of the people around him.

It wasn't until later that Jake confirmed he was military, and I learned he was enlisted. And Special Forces. I confess, I was only familiar with Green Berets because of the John Wayne movie before I met Jake. And I'd never imagined myself falling for any kind of soldier, let alone a guy who was "boots on the ground," constantly in harm's way! Ironically, Jake often says if he'd known I was a lawyer from the start things might have turned out a lot differently. Guess we both had our notions about who we were/weren't meant for. 

In a lot of ways, we couldn't be more opposite: I'm polished and he's rough around the edges (to say the least); he loves to rough it in the great outdoors, and I'd rather be catching the sights in a big city; the idea of a desk job makes him cringe, and I don't mind hours in front of the computer.

Pre-deployment family photos.

It's a lot of difference. But it's a lot of surface-level difference. I think the most important thing I learned from falling in love with an enlisted guy is to look past all the "what if," and "that's not really," and "but I had something else in mind" to the essential. At the very center, he is the best person I know. And there's no passing that up; you grab onto it, and you figure out the rest.

The reason is simple: you marry a person; the rest is just details. 

Fast-forward seven years and we are happily married with a beautiful three-year-old boy. Jake is now a Warrant Officer, having traded jumping out of helicopters for flying them. Right now, he's flying them in Afghanistan and we are counting the days until he gets home. Although "home" is a relative term for us, being a geobatch family. Maybe I should say instead he will be "safe and able to see us on the weekends." Either way, we can't wait!

Years later Jake and I still write each other letters. Honest-to-goodness, handwritten, add-a-postage-stamp letters. Sometimes when I'm really missing him, I will read back through old letters and smile at where life has taken us. 

I can imagine our kids doing the same years from now, and that makes me smile even more. I hope that reading our messages helps them remember when they're looking for their own "someone" to spend their lives with, that the most important thing is to find a heart that matches theirs.

My Favorite Images of the Year

I suppose the title of the post really ought to be "Some of My Favorite Images of the Year," because there are way too many to include them all. Going back through the pictures of the year was really bittersweet, and honestly as many of these made me cry as made me laugh.

We spent more than half of 2013 apart. Actually, we spent more than three quarters of 2013 apart, it's just that these past six months have not been dotted with the long weekends we were able to steal together in the first half of the year. It has been really hard, and it's not over yet. Not til May. Sigh.

But there have also been good things this year--new friends, new passions, new things to celebrate. New milestones for our sweet baby boy. 

In a year like this, ranking moments would be complicated and heart-wrenching. So I put these in chronological order instead. Roughly.

Let me know in the comments which ones are your favorites. Or tell me about your favorite moments of 2013.

Daddy Legs--Jake relocated to Kansas in January of 2013. It was miserable and cold and I have no pictures of the cold misery. But one bright spot is that we got in a routine of meeting in Kansas City for weekends. This is one of those weekends.

My Chanchito--This little pig was a gift from a friend. A symbol of perseverance against all odds, he came to me at exactly the right time.

I Missed You--2013 was another heavy travel year (SHOCKER!). The best thing about traveling is coming home!

Gavin--Howie got another brother this year. We were fortunate to get to spend a week in the Bay with Rowan and Gavin just before Howie's birthday, and Howie discovered his inner super hero in the process.

Howie's Third Birthday--I had a work retreat the weekend of Howie's birthday this year. But fortunately, Daddy was able to fly in, and we celebrated during out free time!

Hard at Work--One major highlight of 2013 was getting to work with (and meet in person) the rest of my Coms team from MSJDN. 

Fab Shoes--And might I add, we all have impeccable, albeit distinct, taste.

Has a Daddy, Has a Happy--One of my favorite random snapshots of all time. Howie didn't know that Daddy was coming home this day after weeks of training in Colorado. He drew a happy face on his hand at school. From the time we picked Howie up, he didn't let go of Daddy the entire night.

Fourth of July!--We got to spend it together in Kansas, and it was Howie's first time at a carnival. They both had a blast. You can see Howie gets his exuberance from his Dad.

Super Heroes--Howie's favorite exhibit at the Children's Museum this summer. I believe that's all that needs to be said.

Group Hug!--Our photographer did a family session with us just before Jake deployed. This one is one of my favorites because Howie's favorite kind of hug is the "everybody hug!"

Jake is Old--There is nothing special about this picture really. Except that it documents one of the all-time best schemes I've ever pulled off. Friends and family flew in, we rented out Jake's favorite brewery, brought in German food, and best of all--he was SURPRISED!

Deployment--Honestly, that's really all I can say about that.

The Bus Is Too Slow...--Was one of the first things that Jake told me once he got settled at Kandahar. He got so tired of spending over two hours a day on the bus that he bought a bike to ride to and from the airfield so he'd waste less time in transit.

Meeting the President--The ABA President, that is. She was very excited to hear about our work for military spouse attorneys, and she's eager to help in the coming year.

White House Baby!--We had the chance to meet with Dr. Biden's people to talk with them about the work we are doing to reduce military spouse attorney licensing barriers, and to educate employers about military spouses as employment candidates. It was awesome!

Uncle Clayton--We spent Labor Day weekend with my Dad's family. We went hiking and Howie got to ride in style. 

My Dad's a Hero--This is one of the sweetest, yet saddest, photos I pulled from 2013. My boys love each other so much. I can't wait until they are back together again!

Super Dirty Prius--Sometimes the right message comes to you at the right time. This was one of those days. If 2013 hadn't been filled with them, I'm not sure how we would have made it.

Making Change--Working for Pattie Millett was by far one of the most rewarding things that I did all year. And seeing our community rally around one of our own, champion her cause, renewed my hope that the work we are doing will make being a professional military spouse a more easily achievable goal in the future. 

I Cried--And then there was this. My worlds collided when Senator Leahy asked me to talk about Jake's deployment, something I'd neatly tucked in the back of my mind to focus on the work being infuriatingly obstructed by Senate Republicans. It was a perfect storm of ache, angry, and indignation all channeled into some pretty candid words about supporting military families.

Victory!--After four lost votes, a fundamental alteration of Senate protocol, dozens of meetings with Senate staff, weather cancellations and five inches of snow, we FINALLY got our vote, and Pattie is FINALLY going to be the judge that she unquestionably should be. Mary hates this picture, but to me it captures the hard work, joy and general delirium that was the last quarter of this year.

Silly Batman--While most of the Hicks clan were watching mortified as the Arkansas Razorbacks blew their lead in the last 90 seconds of their last Thanksgiving game against LSU, Howie was trying very hard to be serious like Batman "riding his Bat-cycle." His serious face might need a little work.

Zoo Lights--Because who doesn't love the zoo at night? This was our first time to experience Houston's famous display, and it did not disappoint. Howie's favorite? "The rhinoooo!"

Reindeer Family--Howie's favorite of our Christmas decorations. He didn't care a thing about the stockings, but he loved the hooks. He told me Santa must be pretty smart since he knew to put a Howie Deer, a Mommy Deer, and a Daddy Deer together. 

Deployed Silliness--The holidays were hard, especially for Jake being so far away and in a war zone. But I'm happy to report that, as per usual, he found the fun.

Dino Puzzle--Everyone's got a talent, and Howie's is puzzles. He's a master. This dinosaur puzzle has a hundred pieces. He was done in fifteen minutes. Kid is nuts.