military mom

Military Mom: Home of the Brave

Military Mom: Home of the Brave As a Military mom, the Fourth of July means something different than it used to.  I don’t suppose I was ever very patriotic. I mean, I have fond memories of parades, fireworks, watermelon, and swimming until my 42 cousins and I passed out cold.  And I know the pledge of allegiance, I vote, and I appreciate freedom.  When I think of it. Which is more often now that I have an enlisted child. And …

mom boss advocate

Mom Boss: Effective Advocacy

It is safe to assume if you are reading this, you are a curious a mom.  The title “mom,” rarely doesn’t have some descriptive attached to it. Soccer, bad, good, working, stay-at-home, world’s best, foster, adoptive, step, certainly I have left off a few, but you get the gist.   Mom is a mixed bag of love, reward, joy, pain, and sleeplessness.  It is only fair I warn you spring chicken moms, yes, newborns are hard.  The terrible twos were invented by …

To the New Military Recruit’s Mom: A Year from Today

To the New Military Recruit’s Mom: A Year from Today

To the New Military Recruit’s Mom: A Year from Today A year ago I watched him be sworn in and then board a bus and drive away.  I had watched the videos, met with his recruiter, and had gone over all the things… all the numerous things I had to say, and a few that I couldn’t leave left unsaid. With my head on the barrel like chest of a manbaby, the smallest and weakest of my litter a mere …

Save This Date... Count it Among Your Best 1

Save This Date… Count it Among Your Best

My son recently left for Marine Bootcamp. Through blurry eyes, I tried to focus on the stunning save the date cards that had just arrived in the mail.  Our oldest daughter had a list of things to discuss. My heart and head were divided between belief and unbelief. Honestly, the package and discussion were a refreshing break from an 180-mile trip, “an only in Texas” record hot first day of spring, a mountain of laundry… and the ache in my temples, …

grief

Grief Isn’t a Lack of Faith…

Grief drenched me. From the windows of my bedroom on the second story of our home on our 640-acre ranch, I could see the sky morphing from daytime to a water colored twilight. The master bedroom glowed with purple hues. My husband Justin, who always generous and thoughtful, had excused me for the evening.  I could hear the acquainted sundown clamor.  One of the college children was home to help. Our 14-year-old daughter would help too.  The three youngest, our …