Jessica Scott

So here’s the thing. Today, I finished rewriting the book that we’ll just call Shane’s novel for the 5th or maybe the 6th time. It’s had so many titles but the one you all have heard me talk about as is War’s Darkest Fear.

But I did something different this time. I wrote the synopsis for it and sent it to my agent, who didn’t like it and subsequently passed on it. But I rewrote it anyway (another story entirely).

Essentially, it was just to see if I could. Because as I sit here and write these words, I am about to bare my writer’s soul: I don’t plot. Or at least, I didn’t. I have 11 novels under my belt (don’t laugh, no they’re not published and yes they need revisions) and I didn’t plot a single one of them. I rewrote 5 of them and if you count the multiple rewrites of Shane’s story, I’ve rewritten upwards around 12 books. Or the same book 6 times, however you choose to look at it.

But see, now that I actually have an agent who, oh I don’t know, wants to work with me on an actual writing career, I kind of have to listen to him. So after he KOd Fear (and I didn’t completely listen but that’s another story) I sent him something like 8 couple paragraph pitches for story ideas because my fab writer mommy and critique partner kicked me in the ass and said you are married to your ideas. Get over it if you want to sell and stay published.

So I sent him my ideas and waited. He came back with 2 that he thought were marketable. And he didn’t comment on the rest (let me tell you that I feel the burn for those stories he passed on. They’re in my blood but maybe, just maybe, I’ll listen to the guy who knows the market, right?). But he picked up on one of the books that I hadn’t written. I’d bounced the idea around in my head a few weeks ago when I should have been writing and jotted down a synopsis.

It was an ugly synopsis but I sent it off to my CP to see what she thought (I’ve completely stolen her synopsis formats, by the way. I heart her). She came back with thoughts which I absorbed. Then I started emailing back and forth with my agent about the idea (we might have had a phone conversation, I honestly can’t remember). So I found a way into the story and I (brace yourself) wrote the synopsis.

Now this is the girl who doesn’t plot, right? I usually start a book with a scene that jumps out at me but by the time I get into rewrites, that opening scene doesn’t stay. And that’s okay.

But for me to plot out an entire book in a synopsis? Unheard of. I tried it once before and I never wrote the book. But I wrote it, sent it to CPs who pointed out issues, fixed and sent to agent. And waited. Not long, mind you. My agent is fast, so I’m a happy girl. I get the call Monday for a file I sent him on Friday.

The first thing he said was, I don’t normally read a 13 page synopsis (what I sent him). And my heart sank a little. I figured this was it, he doesn’t like the fiction ideas, I’m agentless again. But then he says, you really had me on the edge of my seat. You essentially wrote a short story outlining what happens. Most synopses are outlines or are too bogged down in detail but they way you wrote it, you had me hooked.

So I’m like sitting in my driver’s seat (I’d pulled over) doing a little happy dance that he liked it. Really liked it. And basically, he told me to get to work, he wanted a draft in about 2 or 3 months (thank God I can actually write fast but we’ll see how this goes).

So I’m sitting here tonight, getting ready to open up a new Scrivener file for this new project. And it’s not a rewrite. It’s not characters that I’ve already taken through two or three drafts and know so well they’re practically real for me. I’m looking at the blank page and I already know what happens in my story. Rewriting Shane’s story over the last couple weeks was really, really easy for me because I’d plotted that sucker out. Now, this doesn’t mean that my draft is ready to go on to the editor who wants to see it. It needs revisions (and that doesn’t mean checking for commas) but for once, I honestly think I’ve got a draft that doesn’t require major rewrites.

But I’m staring at this open Scrivener project and I’m at a loss. I’ve got the story in my head. I’ve got the characters. But for me, this is uncharted territory. I’ve completely reversed my process. I write the book, figure out the story, then write the book again. And again. And possibly again. But this time, I’ve figured out the story (I think).

Now, I just have to write the book.

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lillie80!

Shoot me your physical address and I’ll get the ARC in the mail to you tomorrow!

Thanks to everyone who helped spread the word and I hope that even if you didn’t win, you’ll pick up Laura’s latest to get to know a new to you author!

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I’ve blogged a lot about my experience in Iraq with some of the folks I’ve worked with. I’ve also been honest with you about some of my failures, both as a leader and as an officer. But at the end of the day, my failures in those situations, my decisions to act or not act for whatever my justifications, were my decisions and my failure has weighed heavily on my heart.

The second and third order effects of my failures are that some people in the army have gotten promoted due to my unwillingness or inability to fall on my sword.

A few weeks ago, I had a phenomenal opportunity to sit down with my former brigade commander and pick his brain about my future as a company commander. In the hour and a half that he sat with me, we talked about some of the things that went wrong and some of the things that he saw that I had not. A hard lesson I had to learn as I’ve come through the ranks is that the people above me making decisions have access to information I do not have and he saw things at his level that I simply did not and even if I did, we would not have seen the same things.

When we talked about NCO/officer relationship, I confessed to him where I failed. I told him explicitly what I did and why I did it. Do you have any idea how hard it is to look into the face of a leader you respect and admire and look up to and tell him how badly you screwed up? And to watch the disappointment flicker there when he told me how many weak words I’d just used?

Yeah, it sucks. And you know what else? He didn’t cut me any slack. He told me point blank that the action I took probably result in that individual being promoted. Maybe even being my first sergeant. He laid it out for me. And then he said get over it. Did you learn from it? I said yes. He then laid out for me that some fights are worth lying on your sword for, some are not but that I made the best decision I could at the time and that other people had a vote. It was not only my decision that sent that NCOER through.

It was truly cathartic for me to admit what I’d done and where I failed. I’ve carried around that failure with me for a year now. That NCOER was mostly the truth but it was better than it should have been. But I also learned a powerful lesson and when he explained to me that no relationship is static, they are constantly in flux and subject to assessment, I had an epiphany as to where I’d failed. I’d failed to constantly adjust and redefine right and left limits in that specific relationship.

So I’ve finally found a way to let go of the guilt I’ve been carrying around inside me for this. It was not an absolution but a way of finally learning what I was supposed to from that whole experience. Because for the life of me, before I’d talked with my former commander, I had no idea what I was supposed to learn from what, in my mind, was one of the biggest mistakes as an officer I’ve made to date.

I understand so many more things now but with that understanding comes new expecations. It’s like one burden has been lifted, replaced by a new responsibility to live up to the things he taught me.

I’m so incredibly lucky to have been part of this brigade and have this brigade commander to step on my neck. That sounds funny but he demanded more from me than I ever thought possible and sometimes more than I thought was fair. But he held me to a high level of performance and he told me I’d lived up to his expectations.

Hearing that? Well I can’t really explain how that made me feel.

It made a lot of the painful lessons of the last two plus years worthwhile. I understood his intent very clearly from the moment he told me what had happened to him in Sadr City. I knew what his intent was for communications in his brigade and I busted my ass to make that happen. I didn’t always succeed but I never quit.

I was meant to go through that pain to learn those lessons. Finally, I understand some of the things that have been driving me absolutely nuts. And I’ve had the opportunity to be influenced by one of the strongest leaders I’ve ever met in my entire career.

I hope the signal world is ready for some venom because that was his charge to me as I leave this brigade and head back to my roots in the signal corps. But I’ll never forget where I come from or the foundation that was laid for me as an officer in my brigade.

Oh and I’m completely borrowing one of his sayings. I will freely admit to it right here: Don’t Mistake My Passion for Anger.

This ought to be interesting.

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As many of you know, I occasionally dip my toes into the waters of commenting on policy or major media events about our government. I don’t do it often because as an officer, I’m held to a higher standard and sometimes that means keeping my mouth shut (you have no idea how much of a challenge that truly is).

Anyway, for the last two days, we’ve been watching the talking heads in the media pick apart the Rolling Stone profile of GEN Stanley McCrystal. There’s been everything from rabid defense of the general to rabid calls for his public flogging. I read the article after hearing about the furvor on the news and if you haven’t, I encourage you to read it.

Because it’s no where near as bad as the media made it sound. Why do I say that? Well, for one, when people like Maureen Dowd criticize the general and his aides for machismo and “towel slapping”, I get annoyed. Why is it we as a society have taken machismo and manly, war like behavior and turned it into something to be condemned? Hello, he’s a general in the army. He’s not supposed to be handing out flowers and candy. He sends soldiers to kill people. That is what he does and the manner in which he carries out his mission, while subject to discussion and debate, should not be held up against some liberal version of ideals that say we can all just get along.

Additionally, as the leader of forces in Afghanistan, GEN McCrystal is the face of the war and, well, the public is sick of the war and I’m reasonably certain the politicians are, too, if media talk is any indication. The problem here becomes a few off hand remarks are turned into crimes nearly worthy of treason by a media that, despite protests to the contrary, are still very left leaning and anti war. And while the media have made good strides in not portraying soldiers as baby killers and pot heads like they did during Vietnam, there is still an underlying current that the soldiers shoulder the burden of being lumped in with the antiwar sentiment.

The fact that President Obama has seen fit to either accept GEN McCrystal’s resignation or to remove him from command remains firmly the president’s decision. What I see in a general that makes me respect and admire him, civilians look at as barbaric towel slapping. There is a disconnect between what we in the military deem appropriate or effective behavior and what civilians deem appropriate or effective.

In the end, this decision will be judged by the history books. Just as former President Bush’s legacy will change based on the long term success or failure of Iraq and his policies there, President Obama will be counted among the presidents responsible for the win or loss in Afghanistan. He made his decision after personally speaking with General McCrystal. He did not knee jerk and fire him via VTC or teleconference. He spoke to him face to face. I have to accept and believe that he made his decision based on the facts as he saw them and I will not question his decision. He is the commander in chief and I have an oath to obey his orders, just as all officers do.

GEN McCrystal served honorably and with the greatest admiration and respect of his soldiers. He was not necessarily loved but being in command isn’t about being loved, it’s about accomplishing the mission and taking care of soldiers. It is a true shame that a reporter with an ax to grind against the war and the military chose to publish this article about this general to grind said ax.

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Today is one of those super cool days where I get to give stuff away. I’ve loved Laura Griffin’s romantic suspense since her first book came and out and I make no bones about being a complete and total fangirl. She’s one of only a few authors that I pre-order everything.

For the last few months, I’ve been eagerly awaiting the second installment of her Tracers series and while I’m still waiting to read my own copy, I’m thrilled to have an autographed ARC to give away today!

So if, like me, you’ve been waiting for the next Laura Griffin, here’s your chance to get it early. It won’t be released until next Tuesday but if you win, you’ll have it sooner!

To win: leave a comment between now and noon on Thursday and tell me about your favorite Laura Griffin book. If you’re new to Laura Griffin, pass along some of the great stuff you’ve heard about her work and why you’d like to check her latest work out. Or, just leave a comment saying pick me and you’ll be in the running, too!

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So today, Twitter and the media are all up in arms about comments Gen McCrystal made to a Rolling Stone reporter. Watching the commentary on MSNBC today, you would have thought Gen McCrystal had committed high treason.

Here’s the thing and it is universally true regardless of what profession you are in: Watch what you say and who you say it to.

Early in my military career as a young private and specialist, I made an off hand remark to a sergeant about one of the key leaders in my platoon, never dreaming he would go back and tell said key leader. What followed was a significant emotional event for me in learning the lesson that a, I was wrong for the comment and said key leader turned into a true mentor for me, but b (and more importantly) watch what you say.

It’s a lesson that has stuck with me over the years and one that I have internalized strongly. People around you are probably not your friends and even if they are, their loyalty may be to someone else. Over the years, I have made many aquaintances and few true friends. The friends I do have, however, I trust implicitly. Even then, I sometimes censor myself.

Call it distrust, I call it prudence. When I was having trouble with my former agent, there were two people I talked to about how I felt and what I was going through and I trust those two individuals to keep it between us, not shared on message boards and other writing groups. Everyone else got a censored version and that’s the way it should be. I shouldn’t be posting on my blog all the dirty details and I won’t, because its unprofessional.

When I was having problems with my previous commander, I posted things here that I knew might get back to him. I never posted anything that I would be uncomfortable explaining and, there too, the thoughts and emotions were self censored. On PBS, there are so many things I said in real life that I never would post online.

In developing my public persona, I am highly aware that everything I say and do will be held against me. This is a key thing to remember as I head off to the RWA National conference next month. There will be gossip and drinking. There will be private conversations, but during all of that, in the back of my mind, will be the reminder that I am ‘on’. Even there, when I’m going as a writer and not as a soldier, I am still a soldier and I am still being scrutinized as such.

So I will watch what I say and who I say it to. Just like always, because I would hate for an offhand remark or six to be turned into a public spectacle.

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I went to the vet today for a follow up appointment for one of my dogs and learned the disturbing news that someone is soaking meat in antifreeze and throwing it over fences in my neighborhood.

The police are actively investigating but I’m passing along the information because this is something deeply personal to me.

My dog Robbie was murdered by someone who did this exact thing. And the murderer was never caught. The fact that someone can do something so heinous and cruel is beyond me. This is not a good or easy way for an animal to die. It’s cruel and it’s inhumane and I hope they find the bastard and tie him out in the noon time sun naked in a fire ant hill.

This isn’t funny. It isn’t a prank and it’s not harmless. It’s serious, it’s a crime, and it needs to stop.

The police here are involved and actively looking for information. If you have ANY information as to who is doing this despicable act, please call the Harker Heights Police at 254-953-5400.

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Yeah, yeah, I know I said I wasn’t going to be online much as I’m in a self enforced deadline and MUST work if I ever hope to make writing, oh, I don’t know, a career.

But as I was driving to work today, something about my conversation with my old brigade commander a couple of weeks ago struck me. Actually, it hit me in the head. But first, a tangent.

I’m a soldier. That doesn’t mean that being a soldier and being a girlie girl are mutually exclusive, it just means that for me, I’m more comfortable in combat boots than high heels. Yesterday, I registered for the RWA National conference in Orlando. Now, for those that are part of the fantastic Austin RWA group, I usually show up in uniform because I leave straight from work to get down to Austin in a reasonable amount of time (I’ve been terrible about going this year and I’m trying to get better). But I always sit with my back to the door and I’m almost always terrible uncomfortable.

See, I’m surrounded by women. Great women. Awesome women who adopted me while I was deployed last year and sent me packages every single month. They didn’t forget about me when I fell of the planet for a while when I was dealing with some personal issues. They are fantastic.

And yet, I’m awkward and unsure of myself every time I step into the room. I worry that I’ll swear too much or be too impatient or say something that might be perfectly reasonable to me but strike a civilian as completely horrible. And I desperately don’t want to offend any of them because they are an awesome group of ladies.

But to be honest, my entire adult life has been spent surrounded by men. There are a few women scattered throughout the formation but by and large, I’m one of the few girls. So even though I wear makeup in uniform, I don’t wear much. I don’t want guys to look at me and see a girl, I want them to see a soldier. And even though the first thing they DO see is a girl, they don’t see a girlie girl and when I open my mouth, it’s obvious that I am a soldier first.

As I get ready to go to RWA, I realize that I am going to have to be on guard. I’m going to have to polish the turd, so to speak. To learn to have entire conversations without swearing, even when I’m relaxed.

Do you have any freaking idea how hard that is going to be? Oh and it says on the website business casual. Um, I own jeans. And t-shirts. And flip flops because when I’m chasing my kids around the zoo, heels aren’t exactly what I would call functional (I am, however, in awe of women who do decide to go to the zoo in high heels but I wonder if they’ve taken pain medication before hand?).

That being said, every time I go to ARWA, I’m glad I went because I learn a little more about how to relax and how to be a little more of a girl. I won’t be a soldier forever. At some point I’m going to have to get reacquainted with my feminine side.

And apparently, that was supposed to start the moment I commissioned. When my former brigade commander gave me some of his valuable time for mentorship, he pointed out that I still have some of my NCO tendencies. He asked me how many times he’d sworn during our conversation and I couldn’t honestly think of any. Then he asked how many I had. And I flushed but he said it was fine because we had a relationship. I wouldn’t talk like that if I was talking to the division commander and he was right.

So as I move further into my transition as an officer AND as a writer, I realize that I have to find ways to be a little less crass, a little more polished. I have to swear a lot less and find a ton more patience.

In essence, I have to start polishing the turd.

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So once more I find myself at a cross roads in my writing career, trying to find a way forward with something that will sell. Hell at this point, I’m thrilled to have sold a freakin article.

If anyone had suggested to me that I would still not only be unsold at this point (4 years and 11 manuscripts later) I would have said no way. It CAN’T be that hard. And to be fair, of all 11 manuscripts, only 2 have gone out (and quite honestly, neither should have but I couldn’t see it at the time).

See here’s the thing. At one point in every writer’s career, but more than likely before the honesty truck has hit them, they all think their stuff is brilliant (raises hand). Course, I don’t think I’m a crappy writer but I can honestly sit here and tell you that writing fiction is a world different from writing nonfiction and I’ve learned an incredible amount in the last 4 years. Until I could look at my manuscript and truly see the issues there, I wasn’t ready to go.

Hell, I might still not be. I’m not giving up, but I am trying something new.

Brace for it.

I’m trying synopses. Before I write the book.

While that might not surprise those of you who plot, when I sit down and write, I’m definitely a seat of the pants, lets see where the story takes me kind of girl. The end result? I throw the whole thing out and start over, often with nothing more than a single scene and character names. That’s it.

That’s time consuming. In Iraq last year, I rewrote all 4 of my military series (have not revised any of them) because the originals were all over the place. I have no idea what the second drafts look like because I haven’t gone back and looked at them. Funny thing about writing a series, if the first one don’t sell, the rest probably won’t either. But that’s not where the honesty comes in.

I’m sitting here today waiting on feedback from my agent on ideas. Blurbs if you will for what he thinks might be saleable. Because what I don’t want to do is spend another 2 years writing a book that may or may not fit the market and may or may not sell. I’m willing to do that, if that’s what it takes, but right now, I’m hoping he’ll look at my ideas and go ‘write this one’. The reason I sent him the idea sheet is because my amazingly brutal critique partner basically laid it out for me.

She said ‘you are married to this idea. I’ve got a ton of boxes filled with ideas that my agent said won’t sell.’

And wow, was she right on the money. I’ve spent the last few months working on my paranormal, my end of the world, apocalypse book that plays to my military strengths and my religious studies background (and my perennial obsession with the apocalypse). But if it doesn’t sell, what good is it? I love it but I’m hoping to someday make a living at writing, right? I mean, that’s what I’m telling the IRS, so I think it kind of has to be true.

So if I want to write for a living, guess what? I need to write something that sells. And I can’t justify spending time on a project that is essentially a hobby (granted, I LOVE this story but still).

But the brutal honesty came in the form of my critique partner, lovingly and harshly telling me “get over it.”

Sucks but its true. We have a different way of saying it in the army: suck it up and drive on. So now, I’m waiting, hopeful that all of my ideas don’t suck. Because if I’m willing to suck it up for this long, I can’t very well ignore the honesty that forces me to face reality? I’m a pragmatist. Which means I’m waiting to hear back from my agent and we’ll see where we go from there.

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Bet you thought that was going to say basics, huh? Well in the last few weeks, I’ve been conducting a little experiment.

I’ve been reading ebooks on my iphone. I know, after the last time I spoke about ebooks and confessed I wasn’t particularly fond of them, I went and did a little trial run. I read a few books, just to get a feel for it. I read a bunch of sample chapters, which is currently my favorite feature of the ebook/kindle format.

But what I don’t have is hard copies of the books I enjoyed in my library. Oh, they’re on my to buy list, but to date, they have not yet been purchased. Between us girls? I doubt they ever will be purchased, even though I enjoyed them and they probably would have made it to my keeper shelf.

The other thing I’ve discovered is that I retain more of the book when I read the physical book. I couldn’t recall the character names of one I’d read on ebook but the physical book I had waiting for me in time for my morning workout, I simply could not put down. Whether format had something to do with it or not, I can’t say but I do know there was a difference.

So I’m not sure whether the ebook thing is for me. I just ordered physical copies of 2 books I’m dying to read: Allison Brennan’s Cardinal Sin and Laura Griffin’s Unspeakable. Both are auto buys for me, as is Sherry Thomas. And Sherry’s latest: His At Night nearly had me in tears this morning while I was working out. I loved it, I loved that I had my hand on the physical copy more. I also love that I can look at my shelf and see all of Sherry and Laura’s books, sitting neatly in order of publication. I can’t do that with a file. The files are too easy to lose.

This is just me. I know there have been times I wished I had a digital copy of a book, like when I was in Iraq. But just like it would be easier for me to have carried a hard drive full of books (I had a full disk of just music) instead I hauled a tat box full of books. The only place I felt even remotely normal in Iraq was at the CAC where all the free books were.

So while I won’t say I’ll never have an ebook reader (or an iPad) I will say that I’m going to encourage my kids to read physical books and I will do the same. The experience, for me, is different and one that is too integral to who I am to be ignored.

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The other night, I made it to Austin’s RWA meeting. I feel continually horrible because I don’t get down there nearly enough and I’ve been struggling through so much crap at home that the thought of driving over an hour each way was enough to keep me away. But the stars aligned and despite some really horrible news that I can’t share publicly yet that morning, I managed to get down there. Emily McKay and Robyn DeHart gave a fantastic workshop on revisions, which is exactly where I’m at right now. If you haven’t had a chance to hear them stop by and definitely sit in on one. It’s both hysterical and informative.

But afterwards, when we were all heading home, one of the gals (and I won’t name her b/c I haven’t asked her permission) stopped me. She said she knows that everyone always says thanks to the troops but she wanted to tell me herself how much she admired my service. She mentioned that her dad and her grandfather had both served in Vietnam and World War II. I asked her to pass along my thanks to her family’s soldiers but then something else hit me.

I asked to particularly say thanks to her dad because when he came home, there were no parades and thank you’s. No celebrations. Even now, more three decades since our soldiers finally came home, we as a nation look back on that war and the warriors who were part of it with a bag of mixed emotions. Today, politicians lie about having served but back then they were heading for the hall of education instead of the airplanes taking them to war.

I didn’t live during that time but my parents did and several folks that I talk to regularly. I’ve asked for help on research during that time period for a book that I will someday finish and get into revising but still, understanding a society that was so hostile to our soldiers who, at that time, were drafted. Some volunteered but most were there because they didn’t have a way into the Guard or to get a college deferment.

I’m not here to comment on the war or the way that administration carried it out or the politics behind it.

Today, I just want to say thank you to our Vietnam Veterans. You bore the country’s will into an unpopular battle and did what you had to do to come home to your families. You were asked to fight a war our people did not support and became the focus of rage toward a government that refused to listen to its people. Thank you. Thank you for your service. You stood back when protesters spit on you and called you names that they should be ashamed of because while they were sitting back home, safely doing pot and getting in touch with nature, you were in touch with nature in the jungles and the heat and the rain.

Thank you. You more than any other group of our soldiers deserve our thanks because you, more than any other group, have borne the heaviest legacy.

Thank you.

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As if I don’t have enough on my plate, today I was accepted as a regular blogger over at Empowering Parents. For those of you that have followed my travails as a military mom working through deployment and reintegration, I’ve really struggled.

About a week or so ago, an old high school friend reconnected with me via what else? Facebook. It was super cool to hear from her and we were catching up. She mentioned that she worked with behavior modification techniques for troubled kids. I thought cool and tucked that info away for future use.

Except that this weekend hit and my daughter had one of her famous meltdowns. And it was a doosey. I don’t know if maybe it was building up or what but boy did she let go (otherwise the weekend was pure awesomeness). But it was significant enough that I emailed Sara and asked if she could help.

So its taken me 6 months of screaming and crying and food battles to finally admit that I can’t do this alone and ask for help. I’m okay with that. We did a decent job, but I feel like there’s more we could do to make this whole thing easier on my kiddos. Because at the end of the day, I don’t get a do over and if I can work to make things better for them, to give them a smiling mom and the tools they need to be responsible adults (more on that at another time), then I’ll be able to send them out into the world knowing they’ll make good choices. Maybe not the ones I’d make but hopefully, good ones.

So when Sara recommended that I send a post into the Empowering Parents editor and see if I would fit for their blogging team, I was initially hesitant. But then, after she and I talked and I realized that my struggles might just help another military mom struggling through some of the same things, I figured I’d go for it. So while I can’t write my book (yet), I can write here and hopefully pass along some of the things that worked and haven’t worked for me.

Amazingly enough, the editor immediately offered me a slot, so I thought that is a sign that I’m meant to be doing something along these lines. After last week’s crushing disappointment about my book on military moms, I needed a boost and maybe this was the opportunity that I was supposed to stumble across, you know?

Anyway, I’m excited to be part of the Empowering Parents team and we’ll see what I can learn about helping out my kiddos. I’ll be posting links on this site to each post over there and I hope you’ll drop by and check them out.

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In the last two days, I’ve had two people say that I expect other people to raise my kids for me because I’m in the military. Those words hurt and they offended me deeply.

But they are also somewhat true, to an extent. In my family, as many families with both parents working, there is no one to pick up the slack. One family member commented on how wrong I was to say that my kids stressed me out and stressed out my husband. But said family member has never had to deploy away from his kids for a year and then come home and actually stick around for the rebuilding process.

Yesterday also marked the 6 month mark since my husband and I came home from Iraq. Maybe it was fitting that these comments were made. Maybe they were the harsh truth that I was supposed to hear.

I’m a military mom and like all military moms, whether single, divorced, married to another service member or married to a civilian, I need help. I have my best friend here who can pick up the kids if there’s an issue and she knows she can count on me. What life would she have if she were not in the military, working to give her kids a better life? What life would I have if I wasn’t here, working to give my kids a better life than I had. I don’t want someone else to raise my kids, but I do need help, just like every working mom needs help.

There are milestones I’ve missed and moments I will never get back. But the thing that I got back today was a sense of enjoyment of my kids when I watched my kindergartener walk across the stage and graduate. Now it was only a kindergarten graduation but regardless of what you making a big deal out of every milestone, this was a big deal for my husband and I. We sat and watched out little girl who we’ve seen grow up via webcam sing on the stage and wave shyly at us from the crowd.

Today was a big deal because we struggled through a rough 6 months, learning to be a family again. And today marked a huge milestone because we were there for her finish kindergarten, even if we weren’t there for her first day of school.

There have been days over the last few months where I wished I didn’t have housework and dishes and crying kids to deal with. There were days when I could honestly admit that my kids caused me more stress than pleasure.

But today, when I hugged my little girl and felt the pride in her that she struggled through to be reading above her grade level, that she struggled through making new friends in a big school with new teachers to actually enjoy going to school every day, today, everything was ok.

Today, we were a family and we were together for a milestone.

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So today I was having a conversation with someone who shall remain nameless but let’s just say it was someone I’m close to.

I remarked how I’d gotten irritated over the weekend about the commercialization of Memorial Day and how so many folks seemed more concerned with sales than with remembering the fallen.

This person said “what, the whole country sucks because we didn’t all bow down and kiss your feet yesterday?”

This struck me rather forcefully. I understand that forceful opinions incite forceful responses and I’m self aware enough to realize that my opinions about how people were acting was a strong one.

What should I have said? Would it matter if this person was a stranger versus someone I’m close to?

What’s the right way to handle this?

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I deliberately did not blog about Memorial Day yesterday. I was going to. I was going to write about how when I was a junior in high school, my band took a trip to DC and I saw the Vietnam War Memorial and broke down into tears even though I knew no one who’d been in the war. But the names and the overwhelming sadness of the place hit me then and it hit me hard.

I couldn’t explain why I cried then nor can I explain the tears of my 17 year old self now.

I was going to write about how I took my daughters to the 1st Cavalry Division Operation Iraqi Freedom memorial. About how I showed them the 3rd Brigade patch that their daddy and I wore now and the patch that Daddy wore the last 2 times he deployed. I was going to write about how as I approached the memorial, my heart clenched and the tears came and I didn’t bother to stop them. I simply kept explaining things to my daughters with a new respect for the veterans who came before me and shed their own tears at memorials for their wars. I showed my daughters on a map where Mommy and Daddy were last year. Where Daddy was before my youngest was born and before my oldest could remember.

But I didn’t write about it.

I didn’t write because it hurts too damn much to watch the Twitter feeds about Dennis Hopper and Gary Coleman and sales and white shoes. It hurts because of the scant crowd at the Memorial Day parade or at the ceremony in Harker Heights where two of Fort Hood’s finest laid a wreath at the memorial.

It hurts because we pay lip service to honor our troops but when soldiers talk about child care issues or veterans issues at the VA, we hear people say we volunteered. We hear talk in Congress about cutting back medical payments for family members, failing to realize that yes, we volunteered but if our families are not taken care of, we won’t do so. It’s too hard being in a combat zone wondering if you’re going to come home for medical bills or worse, wonder if your family will even be able to get the medical attention they need.

The support for soldiers has been phenomenal on the surface. On the surface, people say thank you for your service and shake our hands. But what happens when the wars end and we’ve got thousands and thousands of people needing treatment for anxiety and depression and anger. What happens when employers won’t higher former soldiers with combat experience because they won’t take the risk that someone might snap? Where’s the support for the soldiers then?

We talk a good game about support the troops but that’s now. If we’re really going to support our soldiers, regardless of how we feel about the military, about the nation’s foreign policy, or the justifications for going to war, we need to dig in and understand that the war isn’t over when all the troops come home.

For many, it will just be beginning.

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