Jessica Scott

First off, my condolences to the families and friends of Dennis Hopper and Gary Coleman. They are the only people who truly care that either of those men have passed away this weekend.

I do not mean this post to be callous and uncaring but once more, I find the ‘news’ filled with memorials and dedications and Larry King interviews by people who ‘knew them best’.

When Michael Jackson died, you would have thought the president had been shot. The president being shot probably would have gathered less news. I mean, here was a man who turned into a freak show that most people couldn’t get enough news about and yet, we treated his death like a national holiday that went on for weeks.

Cory Haim’s death was another spectacle brought to you by the so called news. Haim was an actor most of us in our 30s grew up with but no one had heard from or about UNTIL HE DIED. Then, of course, the media was saturated by his struggles with addiction, et cetera, et cetera.

Look, I like a good distraction now and again as much as anyone. I don’t watch a lot of TV simply because I have absolutely zero ability to a, devote that much time to watching something I cannot possibly relate to, or b, find interest in something called ‘glee’ that I have no clue about. Lost? Something about an island? But celebrity watching?

This post is not meant to come off as superior or snotty but seriously: how many of you can actually say you knew Dennis Hopper? And looking at the tabloid pictures of him as he fought cancer doesn’t count. He was an actor. He made some good movies, he made some shitty movies, he got cancer, he died.

My point is that we only seem to care about celebrities when they’re dead. And for that matter, why the hell do we care at all about who they’re dating, what their wearing or where they’re shopping?

The cult of celebrity HAS TO END. We have got to start paying attention to, oh I don’t know, who is buying off politicians, what the Supreme Court has to say and what corporations are doing to pad their pockets while taking short cuts that has now resulted in an oil spill that has the potential to kill the entire Gulf of Mexico. And what about the 2 wars that have been going on since…can anyone tell me? How long have we been in Iraq? When did we go into Afghanistan? Does anyone know who Marcus Luttrell or Paul R Smith are? Or that Nidal Hassan’s trial (anyone remember him? What did he do?) begins in a few days?

But forget about all that. Dennis Hopper is dead.

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I’ve been passively working on my family tree for a decade or so. Around 2000, when my last grandmother became sick, I developed an obsession to find out more about my grandparents and their lives.

Then I stopped because I was overcome by events. The folder went to my mom’s where it sat. When Gramma passed away, I as given boxes of pictures,which I put into albums and made my parents sit down and label.

So I’m pretty lucky. I’ve got 2 ginormous albums of my grandparents and their brothers and sisters. Pics of my parents and their siblings as kids.

But the coolest thing, I think was having pictures of my grandfathers in World War II. I’ve got Grampa Scott’s basic training graduation picture. I’ve got Grampa Cupero’s enlistment records from ancestry.com. Before he passes away, my Great Uncle Anthony told me that Grampa Cupero had been in the 9th Infantry Division, so I went a did some history. They were part of the invasion of North Africa during World War II.

I don’t have a ton. I’ve got pictures of my grandfathers posing in those typical GI photos with their buddies. Their friend’s names have been lost in history.

I think its pretty cool to be able to look back on my family’s history and see military service in there. My daughters will one day be able to look up their dad and me and find our military records out there. My grandfathers were part of World War II. My husband and I are both part of Operation Iraqi Freedom.

With any luck, by the time they’re old enough to understand all that, the wars will be viewed as having been worth it. As having been the right thing to do. We’re too close right now to be able to make those judgments. Maybe with time, we’ll be able to see things more clearly.

Remember that this weekend is not about barbecue and picnics. Take some time to teach your kids about our military traditions. Teach them to say thank you to the grizzled VietNam vet you pass in the store. Teach them that there are those who gave the ultimate sacrifice in the last century so that their moms and dads could live in peace and raise them, knowing that there are wolves guarding the gates.

But above all, remember the fallen this weekend. Remember those who have served. Their names might have been lost in the sands of time, but their sacrifice has not been.

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For those of you that have been following my blog, you know I’m getting ready to head back to Fort Gordon for the captain’s career course. I’m not thrilled with the plan because it means uprooting my family but at least we’ll only be in Georgia instead of well, Iraq. And it’s only for a few months before we reunite the family under one roof again.

Course Iraq looms against shortly after we get home but we’ll deal with that. We’ve done it before; we’ll do it again.

Anyway, I’ve already begun my transition with my replacement. First, let me tell you, I feel like the Devil Wears Prada because in my heart of hearts, I feel like I’ve made a true difference in the way this unit works and operates and I worry about my replacement stepping in simply because he wasn’t with the brigade the whole time so I’ve got a basis of experience he missed out on.

He’s going to do just fine.

But I worry, you know?

I like feeling like I’ve made a difference. I like being needed and I like being trusted and with my commander and my first sergeant, there’s trust between the three of us. I haven’t had that – not like this- since becoming an officer and its meant the world for me in the last few months. The three of us have been a great team and I am really, honestly and truly, going to miss working with those two guys. I never had to bite my tongue and they didn’t either. And it worked.

But more than those two, I’m going to miss my old soldiers. The guys I was downrange with will be burned in my memory forever. My daughters run around saying “I am a robot” and I’m wondering why my kids sound like SSG Sanchez. These guys are a really great group of soldiers and the Blackknight family is just that: A family. We’ve got good soldiers all working toward the good of the brigade.

The team I’m leaving behind will succeed because they understand how critical they are to the success of the brigade. And they truly care about getting better every day.

My life in the Greywolf brigade has not been easy. I’ve had many days where I’ve screamed in frustration and anger. But the single best compliment I’ve received is being told that I was one of the few officers who were truly passionate about what I was doing. That to me is the one of the few things someone could have said about me that means a lot. Especially considering the speaker, someone I admire and respect tremendously.

I’ve had an incredible support from the senior leaders in my brigade. The 2 XOs I served, the DCO and the Brigade Commander all took a smart ass, know it all lieutenant and proceeded to step on my neck while I learned what it meant to be an officer in a brigade combat team.

I am a better officer for having had these men as mentors. I’ve learned to argue for whats important and how compromise when I knew I couldn’t win. I learned hard lessons about firing people and what happens when you don’t cut sling load. I also relearned that its about having the right people in the job, regardless of rank.

As I move on to my next assignment, I will try to go in with a dose of humility. As a great lady recently told me, I am still a young officer, regardless of my time in service. I still have a ton to learn about being an officer.

I am willing to learn but as always, I have to learn from people I respect and admire. That may be a critical weakness on my part, but it is one I’m at least aware of.

I am honestly saddened at the thought of leaving this unit. Unlike other units where, when it was time to go, it was really time to go and I didn’t look back with nostalgia until much later. I’m already looking back on this fondly. I’m glad I’ve got the blog to remind me of some of the challenges.

I’m not gone yet. I’ve still got to make my transition as seamless as possible so that one day, they look around and realize I’m gone and they don’t even miss me. For while it would be nice to be missed, if I am to have any true, lasting impact, I need to make sure when I leave, the transition is smooth and easy.

Because the BlackKnight family has worked their asses off to get where they are and they deserve to have a seamless transition. It’s my last task before heading off for parts unknown.

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Life lessons, the kind that make you reevaluate where you stand and what you’re heading for are never easy. They don’t come with hearts and flowers and gently suggest you try something else.

They are what we call in the army (and possibly in the civilian world) significant emotional events.

Yesterday was one of those for me. I was reeling, not just from the inability to sell my book but also finding out my master’s degree was junk. So everything I’d done toward 2 particular goals were basically shot down yesterday.
There’s a lesson to be learned here. I’m not exactly sure what it is yet but there certainly has to be a reason that several doors slammed shut in my face.

I’m a firm believer in I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing wherever it is that I find myself.

So for whatever reason, I wasn’t meant to sell this book. I wasn’t meant to use my MS for what I’d hoped.

Another path will open. I just have to figure out what it is when it presents itself to me. Wallowing in self pity (as evidenced by yesterday’s double blog posts and subsequent pathetic tweets) is healthy but only for a minute.

Then its time to pick up, dust yourself off, pull up your boots and get back after it. Not sure what ‘it’ is at the moment, but something will come of it. I booked a room at the Dolphin for July, in case our plans involve us being able to go to RWA Nationals this year. I’m going to drive on with my fiction book Resurrection because I’m about halfway through revisions (major rewrites if we’re being honest) but I think it might be halfway to decent (we’ve gone this route before).

And I’ll relook the proposal and see if I can’t make changes to the plan and get the book out there in a different form. No major life altering decisions, even today when I’ve slept on it and life looks a little better.

But at the very least, I’ve dusted myself off, laced up my boots and gotten back after it.

Only time will tell what exactly ‘it’ is.

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You know, today was one of those days where not only do you get kicked, but when you try to find the bright spot in the silver lining, you get hit by lightning. Not only did my book proposal get shot down as written, precluding me from writing the book for any type of compensation, but I also found out that my long term goal of teaching at West Point was also almost completely unrealistic because my Master’s Degree is essentially worthless.

Good times.

This is the day when every decision I’ve made, thinking it was a good step in the right direction has turned out lead me straight to nowhere.

And you know, I’m honestly having a hard time finding a bright lining here. I’m hoping that tomorrow, I’ll wake up and have a new drive, a new focus, a new sense of purpose but sitting here tonight, reading the ethics review and the email that crushes any hope of being a professor at any decent school pretty much shoots that whole thing down.

Right now, I’m stuck. Stuck at the bottom of the well, looking around for a foothold that will help get me out of it. I want to write so badly and yet, everywhere I turn, I find I can’t do it. Either the book wasn’t ready (my fault, needed to learn more) or the book violates ethics rules (good book, can’t sell it, also my fault for not seeing it out there).

My puppy has been kicked pretty hard today. It’s sitting in the corner whimpering because I really, honestly, don’t see a way forward right now.

And that’s pretty tough for a person that can ALWAYS find a way forward.

A good night’s sleep will help, I’m sure.

At least, I hope.

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Well, I received the long anticipated ethics review and the short version is my book is dead if I want to get paid for it.

I can write it for free all day long but so long as I’m active duty, I cannot receive a single dime for it.

Wait for it.

Sigh.

So that kills that small dream. I honestly thought I’d written a proposal that met the requirements. Why else would I have gone out with it? I mean, crap, yeah, lets write a book proposal that has no hope in hell of selling and waste a whole bunch of people’s time.

Um no.

I’m pretty disappointed right now. Yep, I’ve even shed a tear or two. It’s not that I can’t write the book. But how can I justify spending time on a project that is going to take as much time as this? And there will be costs associated with writing it. Remember, I’d have to use all publicly available information, which means if I wanted in to Lexus Nexus, I’d have to pay for it and I couldn’t honestly claim it was an investment b/c I would go into it knowing there was no possibility of getting any money back.

Yes, this is about the money. Yes, I’ve spent the last 4 years working on becoming a writer because someday, I’d like to get out of the Army and write full time. That involves a paycheck but the long term goal is not something for me to just throw aside for the short term gain.

Apparently, my little dream of writing a few books while I was on active duty and building my reader base was nothing more than a fantasy. The lawyer said I can write a memoir, so there’s hope for that but it means essentially scrapping the current project as it stands.

So I’ve got some choices to make but I’m not doing that right now while I’m still reeling from the news. I’m not going to buck up against the Army because this is my career we’re talking about and as much as I’m looking forward at my life beyond the Army, that day is still far down the road.

Right now, all I can say is…shit, this sucks.

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Well, its been a week and I’ve got to say, I’m friggin exhausted. Its easy to forget just how hard it is to do everything yourself and to be honest, he’d wiped out, too. It’s a completely new battle rhythm where we’re both up at 450, him getting dressed and shaving, me making him coffee and packing him a lunch, then going out to the garage to work out myself ( a good book helps with this motivation).

The kids have barely noticed, which is good. He’s still home at a reasonable hour, but that’s 1900 (7 pm for you civilians) and by then, the kids are getting ready for bed. So they’re up later but they’re a little older now, so its not so bad. Keeping the house clean is moderately easy, or it would be if we didn’t have the new jerk dog that piddles everywhere and an 8 year old cat who decides that peeing where I sleep is appropriate revenge for the new kitteh member of the family.

I’ve washed the entire bed (sheets, comforter, and the foam pads beneath) 6 times since Sunday of last week, so needless to say, momma’s not happy. At least my washer can handle the king size comforter.
All in all, my husband loves it. He tells me about the funny stuff his soldiers do. Right now, we’re both in jobs that are arguably the best in the army. Working in a line company, around junior soldiers and making the mission happen. Its more work than being on staff because there’s always personal problems to handle but that’s what we do. When a soldier knows a leader truly cares, they’ll do anything for you and the team.

This week was an off one for me because of the new battle rhythm. I have the best commander on the planet. He’s given me trust to do what’s right and he’s given me the most important thing I need: time. There are some days when I feel like I’m sitting at the bottom of a well, wondering how on earth I’m going to climb out and get after the mission. This whole week felt like that so it’s been a struggle.

But the thing I’ve learned is that right now, my husband has the more important job. He’s a first sergeant. He’s ‘Top” in his unit and his soldiers are counting on him. My job is winding down as I begin my transition to a new job and my replacement is coming on board. So its important that I take on the mother load so that he can focus on getting his boys ready to go again. Because they will go again. Of that, I have no doubt.

It’s hard because he’s tired when he gets home at night. We talk for a few minutes but within an hour of getting in, he’s usually asleep. I’m not far behind him.

All in all, we’re getting there, just like we always do, together. I can honestly say I miss my husband because we don’t talk during the day now very much. He’s too busy. So we try to catch up on the way to work in the morning or on his drive home we talk on the phone. Just another way we try to keep in touch even though we’re on the same base and coming home to each other every night.

It’s going to be a long two years but we’ll get through it. Its what we do. Its what we’ll give to the Army because it’s what we are. We’re both soldiers.

It’s as simple and as complicated as that.

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Seven years ago next month, I was burying my face in my hands and leaning on my mothers’ shoulder. The words “I can’t do this alone” broke from my blocked throat.

I was pregnant and facing the daunting challenge of being alone a few months after my husband and I returned to Fort Hood. The weight of that pregnancy took my husband and I through a staggering roller coaster. The war had just started. We were going to the Cav, which was the next unit out the door to Iraq.

And I was going to be alone when the baby came.

My mom wrapped her arms around my shoulders and let me cry. I admit it, I was panicking but this was so monumental and so utterly overwhelming, I didn’t have a way to attack the problem.
Eventually, my husband and I accepted we were going to be parents. I wrapped my brain around it and we started to actually smile when we thought about the little peanut in my belly.

Then I started to bleed.

I remember the day we were told the baby wasn’t going to make it. My pregnancy was over but it would be another 2 months before I was no longer pregnant.

That miscarriage dropped me to my knees. I should have been relieved. We hadn’t wanted that pregnancy, it was an accident. My birth control got screwed up on the flight from Korea to the states.

But it ripped my heart out because we’d gotten to where we wanted it. And then, just like that, for no apparent reason, it was gone.

I lost a second pregnancy that year before finally conceiving our daughter. Both of them were challenging losses, ones I didn’t understand and one question kept riding me.

Why?

Why did I have to go through that?

Its been seven years since I cried those words to my mom but today, I know why I had to go through that.

A young private came into my office today. This was after I’d given her hell about her hair being out of regulation. But she knocked on my door and sat down and started asking me about healthy things to eat while she was pregnant. Before I knew it, she’d buried her face in her hands and whispered those exact words “I can’t do this alone.”

Her husband is getting ready to deploy and she’s got to face the enormity of going through having a baby by herself.

It was easy for me to get up and put my arms around that soldier today. That’s what she needed and its what I knew how to give. We talked for a while and I didn’t tell her that this was easy.

Being a military mom is never easy but the hard part hasn’t even started yet.

She wants to make a better life for herself and her child. She has some hard choices to make and we talked about some of them today. I don’t know if I made her feel better or worse but I was as honest as I could be with her about how hard it is to be on your own, waiting for the phone to ring from Iraq. I was honest with her about leaving the kids and the incredibly hard time its been coming home.

But at the end of it, she looked at me and said thanks ma’am for listening with a smile.

It was the second time today that one of our soldiers came to me, just to talk. It was the second time today someone came to talk to me about losing a baby or having a baby. Because the first person was an NCO, who was knocked flat by his wife’s miscarriage earlier this week. So we talked about it. About how he was angry and his wife was hurting. About how he’d never been in a unit where the chain of command truly, truly cared about the families.

And at the end of it, he looked at me and smiled, and said thanks ma’am, for listening.

The odd part for me was that these soldiers felt comfortable in coming to talk to me. The guys we were down range with all know me and all feel at ease around me but I have enough self awareness to know that a lot of the new folks don’t know how to take me. I’ve been going a hundred miles an hour since we got back, so the days of sitting around a shooting the breeze downrange are long gone.

But these two came to me and just needed to talk. I’m kind of amazed. But the thing that hit me today was that had I not gone through those two miscarriages, I might not have known what to say, or how to react. But because of that experience, today I was able to understand. Today, apparently, I was the shoulder these two kids needed to lean on.

I never know why I’ve gone through a situation but I’ve always tried to accept that where I am is where I’m supposed to be. I’m supposed to be learning something from what I’m doing.

I hope that today, I was able to make a difference because of the loss I’d gone through. I probably won’t ever know.

But I can hope.

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So this year I decided that so many people have been incredibly supportive and helpful to me on my voyage to publication that I needed to give back a little. I’ve donated a critique of a partial of a military themed novel to the Brenda Novak Diabetes Auction.

You can check out the link here:

So pass the word and help spread the news. Brenda’s auction has helped raise both awareness and funding desperately needed to help find a cure for diabetes. There are many great authors who’ve contributed so I’m sure you’ll find something there!

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Last year for Mothers Day, I was in Iraq. I remember it being a day of everyone saying “Happy Mother’s Day” when all I wanted to do was ignore the fact that I was even a mom. See, I’m an avoider. I avoid things that choke me up when I talk about them and the card my mom had sent me from my then four year old just about killed me. Being reminded all day that I was away from the one thing I needed to be near was simply brutal.

Last year, all I wanted was to be able to wrap my arms around my kids and hear their little voices say “I wuv oo”. The longing in me to go home was intense, so much so that I had to shut it down or else I would simply cease to function.

This year, becoming mommy again has had its own challenges. There has been much crying and screaming and gnashing of the teeth. There have been lots of ‘you’re not my friend’ any more as well as “I want Grammy’s” and there have been days when I seriously considered walking away from the military because reuniting was too damn difficult on all counts.

This year, I’m taking it one day at a time, just like last year. This year, I’m trying to smile when my kids drive me nuts, to be more patient and to be a better mom because the struggles with coming home have been so intense.

This year, work has been a refuge. It has been the place I go to so that I can still feel like a productive member of society rather than a freaked out version of Freddy Krueger’s mom.

But between last year and this year, one thing has not changed. I still have the best mom. Last year, she went through mother’s day taking care of my kids. Of having to listen to not only her grandkids cry but her daughter as well. This year, she’s gotten to listen to both again, but this time, she’s in Maine and we’re in Texas and just like me last year, all she wants to do is wrap her arms around my girls and make the hurt stop.

Reuniting has not been easy on anyone, but the fact that I’ve got a great mom behind me made last year easier. This year, just knowing that talking to her gives my kids a sense of security helps.

So I’m reposting last year’s Mother’s Day post. Just because it’s still true today.

Happy Mothers Day everyone. Today is one of those days I’m wanting to sleep through, b/ c if I don’t I’m liable to spend an inordinate amount of it crying.
But I have to say there are some great moms out there, but I’ve got one of the best. Not only did she take my two heathen kids for us for a year, but she’s doing a damn fine job raising them ( trust me, my oldest could piss off the pope). I’m able to be here in Iraq and do my job b/c my mom is taking care of business back home.
Thanks, Mom for being a great mom and an even better Grammy!
I love you.

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My kids both know that I’m a writer as well as a soldier. While I was gone to Iraq, my oldest always talked about how she wanted to be a writer like mommy (made tears come to my eyes. still does). Anyway, we were sitting at dinner the other night and my oldest gave us her version of the 3 little pigs. Then the youngest chimed in with the remix.

I thought I’d share.

As told by my oldest (5 1/2):

One morning, the three little pigs said we can play tag but the big bad wolf ate the three pigs. Then all the other animals packed their suitcases and moved to a country where there were no wolves.

As told by my youngest (3 1/2):

The wolf ate the three little pigs. Then a squirrel got his gun and shot the big bad wolf and put him on the barbecue grill.

And mommy is now going into therapy.

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Well, its been two weeks since I got an agent based on my nonfiction proposal. What has that last two weeks looked like from the pov of the newly agented?

Nothing.

I’m waiting. I’ve written 2 chapters of the book and revised them and now I’m still. just. waiting.

Waiting on the brigade JAG to review my proposal to see if its within the ethical limits for me to write this book. I couldn’t go to her before I had an agent because I didn’t have a product and would have been discussing purely hypotheticals. And she’s incredibly busy, so I’m by no means complaining about the wait.

Its the suspense that’s killing me.

I’ve read the slides available for book deals and government employees. I’m reasonably certain that if MG Bolger can write a book about infantrymen, I can write a book about military moms. I mean, its not an official policy, its about women in the military. About working moms in the military.

And yet, I sit here, biting my nails because the answer may come back as no. The JAG might paint it as having to do with ‘official duties’. She might say it has to do with policy. There’s a whole raft of things that might get my proposal deemed not in compliance with ethics rules.
I don’t think it violates it. The limited writing that has occurred has only taken place at home, off duty. I’m using my Google-fu to gather my research. It doesn’t deal specifically with Iraq or Afghanistan but how military moms manage to do it all.

The bottom line is that I’m terrified she’s going to say no. You know that feeling when you’re certain you’ve won the lottery only to discover you had the wrong number? That’s what it feels like. I wouldn’t have put the proposal together and written the two chapters if I didn’t think I could ethically sell this book. And I damn sure wouldn’t have sent it out to agents if I didn’t think I could do this. I mean, talk about wasting people’s time.

I really, really feel like this book is within the ethics constraints. But it’s that tiny whisper of doubt that says maybe, just maybe, it’s not that is going to absolutely destroy me if I can’t write it. Or worse, if she says I can write it but can’t accept any compensation for it. I did the PBS blog foregoing the honorarium because it was good exposure and a great experience and a chance to speak for my sisters in arms rather than continue to allow the media to define the discussion about women in the military.

I don’t think I can write an entire book and all that goes into that without compensation. I mean, I’m not doing this for giggles. I want this to be my second career after I get out of the Army. I’m hoping to be able to build a career so that when I retire in 7 years, I can write full time. This is a long haul for me and its something I LOVE to do.

So to be sitting so close to the edge of victory, dangling over the side and seeing defeat is nerve wracking to say the least. I’m scared whitless right now because I’ve got hope, I’ve got an agent and I’ve got a book I know I CAN write.

All I need now is a yes.

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Okay gang, I need your assistance. The Army Wife Network has asked that I compile a list of the best romance novels, not just military. So lets break down the categories and hopefully, I’ll have about 10 books per category to recommend to the Army Wife Network!

Vampire
Other Paranormal
Contemporary (humor)
Contemporary
Historical (Regency)
Historical Other timelines
Young Adult
Military Romantic Suspense
Romantic Suspense

What did I miss? Please feel free to add to the list!

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