Rebecca Yarros's Blog, page 2

Pucking Mess of a PCS: (Vol. 1) Orders.

Man, how I have missed this blog. Seriously. I love having my dream job, and writing books, but for the last couple of months, I've had to learn to do things differently, since I was writing under a deadline... which pretty much looks like this:


So I crawl out of the Drafting / Revising Cave, and I get a spontaneous visit from my parents (Who live in Colorado... Seriously). They came in to meet our Little Miss, and I've never been as happy as when I saw her snuggled up on the couch with my mother. I'd show you pictures, but I can't, so just imagine happiness like: 

Mom, I know you're reading this, so I know you appreciate the Beetlejuice .gif.  Shake, Senora.  ;) 
So I get five great days with them before they leave, I turn in ETS, and I see that there's like... sunshine in the outside world. And I sleep, and it's glorious. Until I realize a major event that we've been ignoring while I write, and it kinda snuck up on me like:

We're PCS'ing.

Yup, orders are here.


Moving. Now what's fun about us moving? Yeah, I'm taking you guys along for the ride. For those of you who are new (or coming here from Pitch Wars), why is this so insane? First, we have a house to sell. Second, we'll be PCS'ing while I'm in EYES TURNED SKYWARD edits for release with Entangled, and writing the next in the series. Third, we're about to do this in the middle of hockey season, which means all 4 of our boys (on 3 separate teams) are about to straddle two states and two different leagues...  6 teams. Fourth? Jason will be TDY enroute, so we have two crazy windows to leave. But the biggest issue we have during this PCS....
We don't know when we'll be going. 
Why? Because we've been fostering a little girl we love more than sunshine, and we're not sure what's going to happen with her. We've tucked her into bed for 10 months now, and we won't leave her behind unless her solution is permanent, which means there's every chance in the world that I'll be living here in NY with our boys and our Little Miss, and Jason will be moving home to Colorado until either she can come, or she is permanent here. We're not leaving her to fall into the system. Nope. 
Anyway....  Welcome to volume 1 of the Pucking Mess PCS, because it's well, it's a HOT freaking mess.

I have to admit. I ignored it for a long while.  A really long while, and it was easy until the orders came in, and then it was kind of like: 

That's right. This mess is chasing us down, and now it's time to deal with it. We've been compartmentalizing, handling what we can when we can, which up until now, has been Jason's work / college schedule, and me finishing up ETS to submit to my editor. And now... We're potentially 6 weeks out of a PCS. 
Potentially. 

Do you know how hard it is to plan a "potential" PCS? Blehhhhh. We're in the weirdest situation because we keep making "potential plans" for our timelines, which means our map of things to do looks more like the most demented flow-chart known to man. If this... then this. But if that... well, then plan E, or G... or maybe G plus that part of B? Yeah. It's that messy. To the point where we actually just finished another hour-long discussion on the insanity of our life and decision making. Trying to make these HUGE decisions without any of the information we need? Well, it's like this....

We're going round and round the same points.
But our orders are here, and that means we have to start making decisions for real, and not just theory. So much hinges on our Little Miss. If there's no permanency for her in sight, do we really want to sell our house? If we're stuck here in NY for another year while her future is undetermined, then I want our children in their home, right? But why shouldn't we sell it now, and then live somewhere smaller, so we're ready to go when we know what our future is? And what if it sells while Jason is at Advanced Course? Then I'm moving with 5 kids solo into a smaller place? What if there is something permanent decided for her, but Jason is already gone? Do we move solo to Colorado (so we can get them in school there), or wait until he's home from the course?   
This is why I haven't been blogging much, because honestly, it's a mess on top of my shoulders.

The hardest question I get now is: "How long are you going to be separated? Can't this take years?"
Ready for the short answer? Yeah, we don't know. The easy answer is, "as long as it takes." Because that's the only answer. Yes, the idea of staying here, separated from Jason is heart-wrenching. We've never been separated when we don't have to be. But I also know what we're capable of, and there's nothing we won't do for our children.
Another question I'm getting right now, are "how are you guys doing with this?"
The honest truth? We're fine. Stressed, but strong.
There are days we don't talk about any of it. We just enjoy our kids, our family, our time together, because we don't know how long we'll have it. We know we'll be separated at least while he's at Advanced Course, but it could be so much longer than that. So we try our best to savor each and every second we have. 
There are days it's all we talk about - how to prep the house for sale, when we should put it on the market. What we're going to do given any set of circumstances. We've tried to make every decision we possibly can for every scenario, but the truth is, it's not possible. No one can see every outcome here, not at this phase. There are times we look at one another and we each know what the other is thinking, that this is about to get really hard really fast. 
So we hold on to each other. We stop cooking dinner and just stand there with our arms around each other when the stress hits. We curl up on the couch when we've talked out every scenario. We hold hands in the car while we debate the easiest way to get our family to Colorado, and can't help but worry how many people will be in the car. We giggle, laugh, and snuggle our Little Miss when there's nothing left to do but wait, because the truth is we have no impact on what happens in her future, only the love and care she gets NOW. We're just the cog in the machine of what's supposed to decide her best interest. And we hold each other before we fall asleep, and whisper our prayers. 
A good friend of mine told me, "I've seen marriages fail for less." She then reminded me that we were certainly not less. And we refuse to be, no matter what gets tossed at us. And you'd be amazed at the crazy things thrown our direction this last month.
We've always said, "you and me against the world." 

And we mean it.
So we have a new motto. We prepare logistically for the best case scenario, and hang on for the worst. Why? Because us leaving here sooner requires a crap ton of prep, and staying here longer requires a whole different type of prep. 
So welcome to our little Pucking Mess of a PCS. 
Enjoy the ride, because we saved our craziest PCS for last. 
Here we go.

Rebecca Yarros - Pitch Wars Mentor

Why hello there!

I'm Rebecca Yarros, and I'm accepting Young Adult and New Adult submissions for the most awesome agent-seeking competition there is... PITCH WARS!!!


So who am I?


Yeah, that's me professionally. Personally? Take a peek around this blog, you'll get a good idea.

I'm an author (betcha figured that out already, eh?) and I write what? Young Adult and New Adult fiction.


Ready for the super-stiff info? I have a degree from Troy University in History and English so I've got a pretty good grip on the grammar stuff.



And on the author front? I was actually a Pitch Wars alternate back in 2013, which gave me one of my best friends, Molly Lee. Now, I'm rep'd by Jamie Bodnar Drowley of Inklings Literary, whom I love enough to give the last brownie to. Seriously. My debut novel, FULL MEASURES, came out in February from Entangled and I was super blessed to see it become an Amazon Best Seller, #1 in Series Romance. I also just turned in the first book in a new three book deal with Entangled, so YAAAAY!


On a personal level? I've been married 12 years to my amazing army-aviator husband, which means I'm a Colorado Girl in a New York world for the next few months until we PCS (move) again. We have six kids (yes, you read that right), to include our youngest daughter, whom we're fostering. We have an English Bulldog named Diesel, and a Bunny named General Fluffy Pants (I can't make this stuff up, folks.), who seriously sat on our dining room table Easter Morning because one of our sons declared him the "Easter Bunny." Yup.  I have four little boys, (my little avengers), who keep me running around and tying hockey skates. ALL THE TIME. Oh, and I write this little blog you're on right now, which is one of the top military spouse blogs in the country... Sigh, it's been so neglected because of this last deadline...  If you catch me watching TV (Which doesn't happen often), it's usually True Blood, Game of Thrones, Scandal, TVD (can't help it, guilty pleasure), or my favorite.... ARROW. Here's a .GIF of Stephen Amell (aka, ARROW). You're welcome.

So anyway, can I stop talking about myself yet?

Okay, so let's get down to the Pitch Wars fun!  

What am I looking for? 
In Young Adult - Contemp, UF, Paranormal, Fantasy. I love strong female characters, well, strong male characters too. Let's just say strong characters in general. I'm a huge fan of urban fantasy, but I've got a soft spot for contemporary too, and given the right elements, I could be sold on some Sci-fi. Give me great characters, a strong, well-paced plot, a fantastic hook in your first chapter, authentic voice, and a little a little bit of romantic sub-plot, and I'm yours. 

In New Adult: - I want to see something that hasn't been done before. I love the angst, the romance, the ...um... yummy scenes, but I'm really looking for the new. What am I looking for in particular? Fun locations, atypical plots, strong emotions. Paranormal, contemp, UF, it's all good.


 I love epic love stories, so give me the stakes, and I'm ready to chase you down.

 What am I not looking for? - Horror is always a no-go for me. That's just a personal preference, other than that? The overdone. In NA, for me that means recovering abuse, teacher/student, and billionaire boyfriends.

So why should you choose me? Hmm.... Let's see.  
I'm super fun.

I've got a great grip on what works in a manuscript, I beta for some already PHENOMENAL authors, I've read for my agency, and I find it ridiculously hard to talk about myself as a commodity. Seriously. Pick me because I'm a good author, a great beta, and I've got enough real-world experience to shine the heck out of your manuscript. 


 Seriously, I want to help you, yes YOU, because 18 months ago, I WAS you. So basically -

What can you expect if you choose me? Work. Yup. Does your manuscript have problems? Well then...

I'm going to rip your manuscript apart (and you're going to like it). I'm going to tell you exactly why it's awesome, and what you need to do to make it sparkle. We're going to take your query and even when you think it's amazing? We're going to look at it and say - 

When you're confused? We'll set up a Skype session and chat it out. I'm going to expect you to work just as hard as I do, so at the end of this process, you might be like: 

But I'm hoping we'll snag you some awesome requests that are going to lead to representation. 
So basically - Choose me.

And even if you don't, let me just say, good luck in Pitch Wars, because it's an unbelievable competition. Make friends with the other Pitch Warriors, and scout out some new CP's. This is such an amazing opportunity!  
Thanks for taking a peek, and hopefully I get to choose your manuscript!!!  


MUWWWAH!
And don't forget, as mentors, we all know how hard this is to put yourself out there, to take the chance and send the query. We respect every single one of you, and your work. So congrats on even thinking about Pitch Wars, and major props to those of you who enter!

Now go polish up that query and those first pages!!! And then... Give them to me. ;)

Good luck!

Wait, say WHAAAAT?!

Okay, so this is kind of how I've been feeling the last few days!!!!  

Now that FULL MEASURES has been out a wee bit, I keep hearing the same thing: "what can we expect next?" I have to tell you, every time I get this question, I squeal a little bit, because that means you want to read more!!!

Yes, I love you. All of you. 
So now I can tell you. Yes, I've been writing amid this crazy parenting / military PCS orders / foster parenting life that we lead. Yes, it includes someone I hope you love. 
Jagger. 

Remember him from FULL MEASURES? Josh's best friend? 
The door opened, and a lean, extremely hot blond guy answered. “Hello there,” he drawled as his eyes drifted over me appreciatively.            “Hi, I’m Ember, your neighbor?”            A very sexy smile lit up his face. “Hello, Ember, my neighbor.”            “Yeah.” I peeked around him. “Does Josh happen to be here?”            His face fell. “Ah, shit. Did he already call dibs? You don’t really look like the Josh type.”            I arched my eyebrow at him, and he stuttered, “You’re hot as hell, he just usually goes for the . . .”            “Barbies?” I was well aware of what “type” Josh went for.            “Exactly.” He opened the door, making room for me to slide past him into a hallway that mirrored our own layout. “Walker! You got company!” He turned back to me. “Just in case he isn’t what you’re looking for . . .” He flashed a killer smile. “My name’s Jagger.”            I tried to ignore that he was hitting on me. He was really good at it. “It’s nice to meet you, Jagger.”            “Oh, it’s my pleasure.” He held his tongue between his teeth, flashing a tongue ring.
Yes, THAT Jagger - the reckless, temper-driven bad-boy who's about to fall for the one girl he shouldn't.

When he popped onto the pages of FULL MEASURES, I just kind of loved him, and before I could even tell my amazing editor that I wanted to write a story for him, she hinted at wanting it in a sideline note on the FULL MEASURES edits.

 And in that moment, I kinda fell a teensy weensy bit more in love with my editor, because I swear she walks around my brain, just looking around. That, or she was peering in through my office window at night, because the Jagger plot board was already up and full of little index cards. Either way, Karen -

So I started writing it.
And then THIS Happened.

What? You can't squint hard enough to read that?
Let me help! It says:
 Rebecca Yarros's EYES TURNED SKYWARD, about an army pilot in training who is determined to outfly his past and graduate top of his class, but jeopardizes everything when he falls for the commanding general's daughter who's struggling with the same heart condition that killed her sister, to Karen Grove at Entangled Embrace, in a nice deal, in a three-book deal, by Jamie Bodnar Drowley at Inklings Literary Agency. 
Yes, you read that right!  EYES TURNED SKYWARD is going to be published by Entangled!!! Not only that, but it's a three-book deal!!! There's two more books in the series to follow!!!

I can't adequately explain how I felt signing a three-book deal. Seriously. I just can't. 


This is my wildest dream come true - everything I only fantasized about having, and it's right here!!!! Plus, I get to work from home in my yoga pants and a baseball cap, so um... WIN!
Signing? That looks like This:


And three hours, a shower and some make-up later? It's a celebration date night!!!!

And the entire time, I feel like THIS:

But seriously. I love Jagger, and I can't wait for you to meet Paisley!



And what could possibly be better than Jagger finally meeting the one girl who knocks him off his feet? 
Well, you saw that it's a three-book deal, right? That means you'll get to meet: 
Grayson. 



Yeah, I'm kind of smitten. ;) 
And maybe the little snippet some of you might be most excited about.... 
I keep hearing, "When will we get more of....." Oh, you know who I'm talking about.
Yes, he'll be around a lot in EYES TURNED SKYWARD, he's Jagger's best friend, after all, but that third book? Well....
He'll be back to finish what he started. 
Josh.


Are you just a little excited? Because I can't wait to tell you where he and Ember end up.


I can definitely say that this wouldn't have happened without these amazing women standing on either side of me. On the left is my editor, Karen Grove, and my right? That's my phenomenal agent, Jamie Bodnar Drowley. 

So there are some thank you's needed.
My editors? Karen Grove and Nicole Steinhaus??

I freaking love you. Even when you're editing my nookie scenes and I want to disappear in a puddle of "holy cow, I just took Josh's boxers off twice..." yup. Love you.
My kids - for putting up with, "Five more minutes until Mommy finishes this scene..."

For my husband - I'm so glad you like Jagger, because he's you in so many ways. Thank you for making this crazy dream of mine a priority. Oh, and for kissing me like you do, because every single time, I'm back to being a 19 year-old girl, climbing up you like a monkey. Yup.

I'm not sure how you improve on sheer perfection, but you somehow do it, because I love you more today than ever.  ;) 

For Lizzy Charles and Molly Lee, who have seriously pushed EYES TURNED SKYWARD toward the finish line, reading it a chapter at a time and soothing my neurotic little fears,

You guys are the shining lights in my sky, and you give me warm fuzzies. Yup.
HUGE thanks to My agent. Jamie, you are the Ari to my Vince. There's just no words for what you do for me, but without you, well... I'd still be in yoga pants, just without my dream job. You seriously make my life possible in so many ways.


And definitely Entangled Publishing - because working with this insanely talented, inspired group of professionals is the most epic team since, well...

But the biggest thank you for the amazingness that's about to ensue???  
You guys. The fans. (Holy cow, when did I get cool enough to have FANS?!?)

For every email you've sent me, every facebook message, every Goodreads note. You guys took an unknown, debut author and rocketed me into the number one spot for Series Romance on Amazon. You guys, and your passion for that little book I wrote, are the ones responsible for me being able to keep doing what I love. I would kiss you all, but you might find it creepy if I knew where you all lived. But seriously...

So here's to Josh.
And Grayson.
And Jagger.
EYES TURNED SKYWARD is officially happening!!!!  
I guess I should get back to writing, eh?

I freaking hate summer.

First off, welcome to the month where I go nuts trying to blog every day in hopes you guys will click the link above, or THIS one and "heart" me for The Only Girl Among Boys.  Pretty please?


Sigh. Man, I know I should never commit to a blog every day without being supplied with copious amounts of wine and good material. Add to it that it's summer vacation?  Blehhhhh.

Let's start this with how much I love my kids' teachers. You guys are saints.

Okay, so seriously? I hate summer.


First off, when I think "summer" I still feel like I'm 18, and the sun is shining, and I'm at the water park with my sister, and we're all: 

But then I remember. I'm 33, and while I may have dropped those 70 lbs last year, well...  I had four babies within six years, and portions of my stomach more resemble a cat-scratch post than anything else. No regrets, but no binkinis either. I'm officially mom-zoned in the ruched zone. But hey, I guess it's easier for bending over when taking our small herd of children to the splash-pad.

So yeah, and even if I did want to embrace this hellish season known as summer, in the North Country it's kind of like this:

Right. But I'm not done yet. Nope.
Yes, when my kids think summer, they think:

Well... I just kind of think:


I know there are moms who are all "Yay! Summer! All-day fun with my kiddos!" And they get on Pinterest (A.K.A. mommy craft-crack that exists to solely make women feel inferior to the other women pinning crap), and it's all crafty-crafty-cookie-waterfight-happiness like: 

And then they get all crafty and awesome and post their rainbows made out of edible shaving cream on Facebook with their adorable kids who never fight so other moms can be like: 

Oh, I know they exist. How do I know? Because one of my best friends, Running Woman, is one of them.

Oh heck no. She's a way better mommy than I am. Which is great when we live near each other because she makes me do said edible shaving cream stuff with my kids too. But generally? To all the summer-happy-zealous moms?

I mean really, go with your bad-selves and your awesomeness. I'll just be over here wishing I had your level of creativity or a tenth of your motivation., rolling my eyes and green with envy. Meanwhile, I'll buy the play dough and then scrape it out of the carpet later. It'll be fun. Really. Oh, and while we're on the subject of pinterest....

Seriously. Do you want me to bake three dozen brownies, eat them while making a quilt, then run five miles on your half-marathon training program, and then make the edible shaving cream rainbow? Seriously. I get the point of Pinterest, I really do. I use it, I love it, and it's how Jason and I designed Little Miss' nursery while he was deployed. But it also generally makes me feel like a crap mom with an unstylish closet.Yup. Freaking Pinterest. Now if I pinned something and it magically showed up on my door? Yeah, I'd totally go for that one. 

Until then, Pinterest is simply a place to store my ambitious thoughts and then go about my day without actually doing them. Yup.
But back to the point. Who can hate summer? Well... me. 
But there's sunshine! Right? Meh. I'm a writer who works from home, and as rock star-author Neil Gaiman said:

Yeah, it's kind of like that.  I swear, I try to like summer. I try to embrace the later mornings, the sunshine, the smell of coffee and bacon. However, I live with these four little dictators (oddly enough, Princess Pumpkin is seriously the easiest going in the morning). So while I may skip down the steps, ready to pop that K-cup in, well, I've already been assaulted by the screaming of at least two of the boys demanding a plethora of things from breakfast (okay), to YouTube on the X-box (Um... No), to immediate ice-cream (really? REALLY?). And there's always a fight to break up prior to 8 am, so it's kind of like this:

Right. Which means by 9 am, though the kids are fed and play has ensued, I have to put on my striped shirt and whistle, because THIS is already going down.

Yeah. By this time Jason has headed off to work, and I kind of feel like I'm suddenly outnumbered and mutiny is coming. This is confirmed at 10:00 when snack time comes around and we're out of oatmeal-raisin granola bars, so Iron Man (who can't have the ones that are left because chocolate triggers his seizures), is now having a meltdown in the kitchen of epic proportions because his meds affect his impulse control. Yeah, and I'm just like:

Because Dude.... it's a granola bar, and I know where the store is.
So I placate him with a banana, get the baby down for a nap and then totally bribe the four boys with an hour and a half of minecraft just so I can get some writing done. Funny thing, my career doesn't take the summer off. During this hour and half of bribed quiet time, I will be interrupted no less frequently than every five minutes due to the current creeper-apocalypse online, the destruction of someone's virtual room, and IronMan's constant request to "eat somfing."  And by GOD, be QUIET, because the baby is sleeping! And let's just say, that telling 4 boys ages 5-11 to be quiet? Well, you kinda get this:

So yeah, I'm trying to work, which is kind of ... well, impossible. Seriously. I instituted this system. Which Captain America immediately took a picture of and then violated.
So after about an hour and a half of utter frustration and a lot of "Seriously, are you bleeding?" I just kind of learn to:

Over lunch, making & cleaning up, at least two fights will break out, because they're basically a pack of wolves, and stealing food is a form of displaying dominance and pack order, right?

Once lunch is over, shenanigans ensue outside, which they assure me is "ninja game," but looks more like:

And luckily, my desk is at the window, because I have to immediately break that all up.

But Iron Man always claims to miss the memo and has to get that one last shot in. 

And maybe I can make a phone call, but when I talk to my best friend, she's well aware that half of what I say isn't directed at her because I'll insert "GET OFF YOUR BROTHER" into a conversation about her latest triathlon. She laughs. I wait for the day she has kids so I too can join into the laughter.  ;) 
And if I happen to talk to a buddy who has kids? Well, we both kind of send envious looks out the door, because all we can think is:

Oh that's right. They're off flying helicopters and stuff.
And we're both like, "Remember when they had school? And they got on the bus? And they came home later in the day? And they were like... happy to see one another because they'd been apart all day? Yeah."

So, okay, the baby wakes up, and the house is loud, raucous and generally insane, but happy, and now the boys have a new focus: her. So now on top of "get off your brother" I have "seriously, put your sister DOWN," along with constant cries of, "but I want to hold her next!" And she's chill, and loves all the attention, but seriously, I'm pretty sure that growing up with four older brothers (if she gets to stay), will basically look like:

Sigh. Right. And I want to RUN. I want to drop the kids at the Y daycare and then lose myself in some Buckcherry for a few miles (no judgement, peeps). But you see, our Princess Pumpkin isn't fond of... well... anyone who doesn't live in this house, so if I drop her at daycare? They're pulling me off the treadmill 2.5 miles into the run because she's not having it. 

She's also not fond of the stroller. Or sun. Or the bunny. Hey, we're working on it.
And the crazy thing? I'd kill for a quiet shower, where no one busts in with a Minecraft emergency, or goes into the back yard screaming my name like I've abandoned him even though I just said, "I'm hopping in the shower." Yes, I ran in a towel. Yes, I'm sure the neighbors think we're insane and that DSS is at our house regularly for an entirely different reason than than the truth. And MAN, I'd kill to go to the bathroom without someone talking to me through the door. Nope, I don't care that he took your turn on whatever it is. It can seriously wait another minute. Oh, look there's the other boy to plead his case. Through the door. I get that it's the "throne," but could we not have an audience right now? I only need three minutes. No? I'll settle for two.
So now we've arrived at another snack time, and yup, Iron Man is still ticked off that there's no freaking oatmeal raisin granola bars. Yeah.. you know? I'll have your dad pick those up on the way home, because I'd seriously rather walk on a floor covered in legos than take all five of you to the grocery store. Nope. 

And I've said we'll go to the park, where they will exercise and not fight for an hour, but as I look out the window? Oh, it's raining. Again.

Right. 
Yeah. At this point, Jason usually calls and says, "hey baby, how is your day? Have you thought about dinner?" And my first thought is usually, "WHY THE HELL DOES EVERYONE HAVE TO EAT AGAIN!!!" Because all I've done all day is open snacks and prep meals. How is there room in any of their stomachs for MORE food? All I can think is that if they'd agree not to eat or wear clothes for a week, heck, I could get a TON done! And he's like, "Well, what can I bring you?" And I'm like, "wine. Oh! And Oatmeal raisin granola bars." Because I'm not doing THAT again.


And he walks in the door a little after five (on a good day) and kind of finds:

And he knows better than to utter, "so what have you done all day?" Because, well, we've been married this long for a REASON.
And the minute he comes in? My stress level drops about 2 billion percent, because the odds have evened up. We make it through dinner, and have those phenomenal moments I live for, where everyone is at the table, and one of the boys says Grace in the sweetest voice ever, and we tell each other our favorite parts of the day, and it really is amazing all the things we do that they think are awesome, and I'm just like... wait... you liked that? And I remember why this insanity is all worth it.

We put them to bed. Kind of. We snuggle them, and sing to them, and smell the sunshine in their hair. I send a prayer of thanks up to God that he has gifted me with such strong, smart, loving little ninja boys. Then I kiss their foreheads and run downstairs with Jason, where we declare ourselves "off" for the night. 
Or not. We  may have put them to bed, but they get out of it. Again... and again... and... wait... yup. Again. Because they tip-toe to each other's rooms and begin fighting? Yeah, I don't get it either.

The last reason I hate summer? I don't watch TV but maybe an hour a day, but man, I'm a rabid fan of some shows. And I really, really, really miss this one.

Because of this:

And let's face it: I'd watch Stephen Amell read a freaking phone book, let alone climb a salmon ladder. 

yeah. And at some point, Jason will read this and go:

Whoops. ;) 
What do I love about Summer? The return of THIS:

Sigh. Okay. So the hour of TV I do watch gets kind of balanced out. The kids get to bed, it's now 11:45 PM, and I just spent 5 hours, I kid you not, prepping this blog. Yup. The good news? A new blog is up. The bad news? They're up in 6.25 hours, and I'm still in the clothes I went for a run in. 6 hours ago. But maybe if I'm quiet, the shower won't wake up Iron Man. Maybe. 
I think it's worth the chance.
Here's to the moms like me, the ones not afraid to admit that this summer stuff is basically a hodge-podge of awfulness spritzed with a taste of sugar to keep us from losing our minds, or at least what's left of them. 
Is it September yet? I love September, but by the time we get there? I'm all:

So you go, Pinterest Mom. I will watch from afar with awe and a little jealousy over your genuine excitement of something that I truly loathe. The good thing? I'm pretty good at faking a smile, so the kids will still have a phenomenal season. Oh, and Hockey camp is this weekend!


Nothing like dropping the two who fight off at camp so they can morally beat the stuffing out of one another. (Insert Evil Scientist Laugh Here....)

Crap, now it's 12:05. Yes, I think the shower might still be worth it.

12:10. Dang it. I mean it.

The Dirty "P" word: A.K.A. How we schooled our kid.

Okay, so this actually occurred 3 weeks ago, since I spent the last week in writers conferences between Nashville and Las Vegas...  ;)

Sigh.

Does life ever really slow down when you're raising kids? Let alone 5 of them? Yeah, I'm starting to think not.  It seems like less and less domestic perfection, and more... well... managed chaos?  Yeah, we'll go with that one.

So anyway. It all started last week, when I saw the phone flash with the school's number. And all parents know, if the school is calling? You've either got a sick kid, or one who's in trouble. Yup. It's not like the school is going to call and say, "by the way, just wanted to let you know it's a totally normal day over here!" No, a phone call is never a good thing.

So I answer, and it's The Hulk's gym teacher and she starts with "there's been an incident."

To which I think:

Because if there's "Incident" and "The Hulk" mentioned in the same sentence... well, there's a reason we call him The Hulk. 
So I say, "what kind of incident?"
and she says, "Well, he was involved in some bullying."
And I say, "wait... he was bullied? Or he was bullying?"
And she crushes my spirit with, "He was in on the bullying."
And now, I'm like:

And everything in my heart just... crashes.  I mean, haven't we been teaching them to take care of other people? To be kind? Thoughtful? I feel like a complete Mom failure.

And she jumps in and says, "wait, and let me tell you what happened."
So here's the story: 
There's three kids, A, B (The Hulk), and C. Kid A, the epic troublemaker, and until this very moment, they've all been friends. Only this mom - Yeah, me? I didn't know A was a troublemaker. That is my lack of due-diligence, since they were only "school-friends," and not "playdate" friends. I take full blame on that one. 

Right, so back to the story.
The gym teacher tells me that A, B, & C were all fabulous friends until A decided to go all Mean Girls (despite the fact that he's a boy) on C and be all: 

So A and C start fighting over the last month or so. A calls names at C, C calls names at A, and then it turns physical on A's part that day in gym. Well, The Hulk is watching up until then, but then The Hulk teams up with A, bullying C and calls C THE DIRTY P WORD when he doesn't fight back.  
When the gym teacher tells me? Well, I'm kind of like:


The DIRTY P WORD????  WHAT? 
Just in case you don't know what I'm talking about....  Well, you know... the dirty P word....

Yeah, right.  You with me?
So I'm horrified, and I say, "we don't even USE that word here!" Because it's true. I can't even type that word, I had to go find a funny .gif. You know, if one of the boys whips out a "damn it!"... well, that's probably me. It's my go-to swear word when I drop stuff, stub my toe, realize we're running 10 minutes late for something... you get the drift - it's this really bad reflex that comes screaming out.  Any-hoo - But that word?  The DIRTY P WORD? Yeah, I can't stand to hear it, let alone say it, so you can bet your hot little hiny that The Hulk has never heard that word so much as uttered in this house. It's basically the most vulgar word that I refuse to even have in my vocabulary, and I'm offended and just embarrassed! And there's explicit sex scenes in my book, people, and I STILL CAN'T EVEN TYPE OUT THAT WORD!!!!
And it's not just the language.  I get it.  He's on the school bus, he's going to hear things that we don't say in this house. His whole life he's going to be exposed to things we don't approve of, and then he's going to experiment with how he feels about and uses those things.  I get it, I promise.  It's not the language, it's that he ganged up with another kid on the weaker kid. He chose to join the attack instead of stop the attack.
And I feel like my really cute little boy  - 

just morphed into some kind of... well.... scaly monster.

And I'm apologizing to the gym teacher all over the place until she stops me, saying, "I've had all four of your boys, and they're good boys - all of them. This is so unlike him. Kid "A" and Kid "C" have been at each other, The Hulk chose a side, and none of them are blameless. The other little boy was pretty upset, though."  And I get it. Having just gone through what I did the last deployment? Well...  my sympathies are with kid C and not my own boy.
Then we have a little chat about the bullying that that The Hulk went through at the beginning of the year, and she says, "I think that's why he's doing it. If he's bullying, then he's not getting bullied. He's choosing to stand on the strong side."
My problem? He might be choosing the stronger side, but it's the WRONG side. 

And she says, "well, knowing your boys, and the way they're raised, I figured you would want to know." 
Oh, and all I can say is, "Yes, thank you so much for telling me. And don't worry...."

So she thanks me, which kind of confuses me, because really, it's MY kid that just screwed up, so um....  thank YOU for not condemning me to the bad parents' department.
I hang up the phone and then look at it for a minute and all I want to do is drive down to the school, rip him out of class and show him that he's never out of my reaches, that when he does something wrong, he's not getting an "until I get home reprieve..." Oh no. But I also know that I'm his mom, and therefore nowhere near as effective in this department as....
Dun - dun - duhhhhhh!  Yes.  That's it. I have an idea.

I call up Jason at work and say, "Hey baby.  Do you have 45 minutes you can give me?"
To which he replies, "I can make anything happen for you, what do you need?"
And my wicked-witch cackle comes out....

Right. 
I tell him what I want him to do, and he's quiet for a second.

And then he readily agrees. Time for shock and awe, folks.

So Jason goes in uniform (because the school is seriously 14 minutes from the airfield) and asks to pull The Hulk out of class, to which the secretaries look at him like:

And what they're really thinking?

You know, with all these safety regs, it's not easy to actually get to your own kid, but it is easy to go meet with the gym teacher.

So Jason heads back and meets with the gym teacher, who gives him the same retelling I just did. Boys fought, The Hulk ganged up on Kid C with Kid A.... The DIRTY P WORD ensued. Yup. 
But there's a little bit more.  The Hulk was also caught telling a little girl, "Wait, that's your older sister? I never would have guessed, since she's way hotter than you."

Right. Insensitive 9 year-old jerkface, aisle 2. 
With the Gym Teacher, Jason walks over to The Hulk's class room, swings open the door, looks at him and says,

And The Hulk, who looks like:

Right. So he slips out to the hallway with Jason, who basically lights into him about being a bully, and how that just isn't going to fly...

... and that it doesn't matter if he's at school, summer camp or Timbuktu, his parents are going to FIND HIM when he does mean-hearted crap like this, and by God, it ends NOW! That the word, when used in such  context is derogatory, and that he won't be friends any longer with the child who taught it to him (ahem... A). Nope, this is where the freaking buck stops.

And of course The Hulk is appropriately contrite.  He knows Jason left work to pull him out of class less than an hour after the incident, and has done the extreme parental no-no of embarrassing him. Jason sends him back into class, promising that this conversation will continue at home, and his teacher comes out, so now the embarrassment has flipped, and it's Jason apologizing for interrupting class.

His teacher (who is a guy, and my favorite of all The Hulk's teachers), stops him mid apology and says, "No, seriously, that was EPIC."


And that he wishes more parents would do it.  Heck, he wants to go back to the days where the State Trooper assigned (remember, our village has like 3k people...) would put the kid in the back of the squad car and bring him home to "release him on his personal recognizance."


Apparently Upstate NY likes to do it old school.

Jason leaves the school, after promising The Hulk that he hasn't heard the last of this, that bullying isn't ever going to be tolerated in our house, and then calls to tell me what's happened.

This is when it hits me. This teacher was so happy to see us doing something, taking the time out of our day to do what????  Parent. How many people just expect the teachers to do the parenting when this stuff happens? For a school punishment to be as far as something goes? The point here wasn't to scare The Hulk, or even to embarrass him, really, though I'm glad it did. It was to make it clear and apparent that we are his parents, and that we aren't going to sit idly by and wait for his watered-down version of the story. That when he does bad things, we know immediately, and the consequences come down swiftly. Yes, his teacher spends more awake hours with him than I do during the week, but you know what? We're his parents, and we're responsible for molding him into a man, not the teacher. It's OUR job to show up and be the parents when we need to be, because they're doing THEIR job - teaching!

Okay, gimme a second to get off this horse. Man, it's high.

So The Hulk walks in from school, snags a kiss, and hangs his gear up in his cubby. Then he walks back into the kitchen and reaches for the snack bin, just to see me still standing there.

I wait for him to tell me what happened to him today, so I gently prod, and get a giant swallow from him, and he quickly stuffs a chocolate chip granola bar into his mouth like we're living in a Twix commercial, but I mean, come on... I'm not fooled.... I'm a mother.


  So I wait until he swallows and say, "Dude, I already know."

And I get this kind of reaction:


And then he's like, "Wait, you know?"


Well, except the F-bomb, because it seems the Dirty P Word is his curse of choice, right?

And I say, "Yeah, come on. Who do you think SENT your dad?"


He pales, and says, "You? You send dad... from work? To my school?"

"Were you bullying a kid?"

He drops his eyes, because he knows, to which I slowly raise up my eyebrows and nod, like, YUP, and say, "Buddy, there isn't anywhere that we won't go if we think we need to talk to you."


And he gives me the deer-in-the-headlights look, and I make him explain his story. Which of course includes the words, "But I didn't start it!"

 To which I respond, "You shouldn't have been in it, and that's not even the tip of the iceberg when we start talking about the language you chose. I'm so embarrassed for you. That's a word I'm embarrassed to use, and I'm an ADULT. (Of course I left the explanation up to Jason, because we've already covered the fact that I can't even say that flippin' word.) Were you embarrassed when Dad pulled you out of class?"

He nods.

"Good, because I'm sure that little boy you ganged up on sure felt embarrassed when his friends turned on him."

Oh, and of course Thor has to sneak in to watch this all go down, and I turn to see him thoroughly enjoying The Hulk's dress-down (because they're kind of like each other's arch nemeses) like:


 I say to Thor, "You're not in trouble, are you?"

And he says, "Nope!" All happy-like.


So I turn and say, "Do you WANT to be?"

And he says, "nope!"


and I say, "Then you'd better go play, because eavesdropping will get you there, buddy." His gaze darts behind him, where YUP, Captain America is slowly backing away and Iron Man is just wide-eyed.  And I say, "that goes for ALL of you." And they know that when one brother is in trouble, if you stay too long to watch the public flogging?  Well....


So they run. Smart boys.


Once The Hulk is appropriately contrite and realizes he wasn't getting "good cop / bad cop," oh no, he's getting, "Angry dad and angry mom," I let up.... on that incident.

Then I inform him that he'll be writing an apology for both his language and ganging up on the other boy, as well as losing his X-box and Television privileges for the next two weeks, oh and that Kindle? Yeah, only books are accessible right now, so enjoy.



And I'm not sorry. Because this is about nipping it in the bud, stopping this monster from overtaking our awesome little boy with swift action and perhaps "overly" harsh punishment. Because if there's one thing he's not growing up to be, it's a freaking bully.  Ugh. 
I want him to remember exactly how miserable this choice made him, and I want that feeling to be imprinted on him for the rest of his life.
And he starts to sputter, to which I give him THE LOOK. Oh, you moms know the one where you basically say:


Without even having to raise your voice.

And he quiets.

Then I ask him about telling the other little girl that her sister is prettier, and I'm pretty sure he's ready to seriously run away and hide. Yup, Mama's on the war path. But instead of yelling, when his little shoulders slump, I soften the clipped tone of my voice and tell him why I'm so sensitive to it...

"You know Aunt Katie?"

"Yeah," he tells the floor.

"Growing up with her was really tough, because she is so pretty, and I was always her little sister.  We don't look anything alike, and I heard that a lot. A bunch of people, especially boys, would get surprised because she's a lot prettier. So when you go to say something like that to a girl, remember that hearing that just about broke your mama a lot of times."

"You're prettier than Aunt Katie."


"Thank you buddy, but that's because you're my baby, and you know what? I'll always think you're more handsome than any other little boys."
"Even Thor?'
"You're all equal, and you know it."
"But the other girl was prettier."

I keep a straight face, and take that deep breath that keeps me from doing the above. And maybe, a little deep-down, I applaud his honesty. But I also don't want him running around scarring little girls' self esteems, mmmkay? 
So I say, "that might be true, but what do I tell you is the most important quality in a girl? Is it looks?"
He shakes his head and mumbles, "that she's kind."
And I hug him, because even if he's bullied some kid today and broken some girl's heart, well, he's still my baby, and there comes a time during punishment that he needs to know that this is all stemming from love and not because I want to see how he handles the loss of the Xbox.  So I say, "right. Kind, then smart. That's what matters, because what?"
"Pretty girls don't always stay pretty, and mean hearts make pretty girls ugly."
And I have this... moment of sheer pride in this little man who's struggling, but maybe something I've said has seeped through.

So I snuggle him tighter and say, "then let's compliment girls on their hearts and their minds, instead of how they happen to look, and don't compare them to anyone else but who they are. Girls can be sensitive, just like you, so be careful."
"Okay, Mama, I'll be nicer."
And he smiles up at me, and I smile down at him, and kiss his flawless forehead, and we have this phenomenal moment. 
But then I say the last thing he's expecting... 
"I'm so glad we had this talk... but you're still grounded."

And so The Hulk's bad day ended...  well, until the next week when he got into a marker fight with kid A... but that's another blog for another night...  
Kids, man.
I guess this parenting gig isn't for the faint of heart.... or the Dirty P Words....

Staring down the clock.

It's funny how something you've prayed so fervently for can come at the most inopportune time.

After eight years of missing my mountains, my city, my friends and my FAMILY, we're finally headed home to Fort Carson, in my beloved Colorado Springs.


Now if the timeline wasn't just insane.

We've known it was happening for about a year, well, known as much as a wish, a prayer, and an email from branch.  We just expected it in January.  We had it planned out as carefully as we could.  Jason would head to WOAC (Warrant Officer Advanced Course) in August, he'd be back in October, and we'd have three months to sell the house and PCS.  Totally doable timeline.

But then we got the email. Jason is now supposed to complete WOAC enroute to Fort Carson, and instead of PCS'ing in January, he needs to leave Drum by the beginning of October.

Normally, I'd be jumping for joy.  Sure, there's some stress associated with putting the house on the market, getting it sold, getting movers schedule, purging, the whole PCS thing.  Come on, we're headed HOME! But along with the euphoria of hearing those magic words we've been waiting for, came the absolute terror of losing our Little Miss. We've had her a few days shy of 8 months now, and we don't have a permanency hearing until September, just a few weeks before we're scheduled to clear Drum.

All of the "what are you going to do's?" are being fired at us, and we're fumbling for the answer, trying to make massive decisions for our family without all the answers.

Yes, we want to go home.  That's where our strongest support structure is, good schools, amazing activities, and without sounding juvenile, I miss my family and friends. It's where we're retiring, and should be our last duty station.  No more moving the kids to different schools, no more new bases. We can put down roots and watch them grow. It's the army, and even if we turned down these orders, they would simply send us somewhere else: we're leaving no matter what we say.

We've talked to our social worker about our position, always up front and honest, and the truth is, we don't know what will happen. Our minds have been swimming in a sea of "what if" for these last couple of weeks, struggling to figure out what we're going to do if "a" happens, or "b" occurs, trying to come up with every possible contingency plan when we can't even see past the first step of this.

So we're concentrating now on what we know.

1. We're putting the house on the market.  No matter what happens, we're leaving here, so the house needs to sell.  Man, I'm sad about this, and I'm sure I'll devote an entire other blog to the way I feel about this house, and all its quirks.

2. Once we sell this house, we'll rent a smaller townhouse and put a bunch of our stuff in storage. Jason's not scheduled to clear until October, so we'll stay here with him.

3. My parents get to go get their fingerprints checked, so that we can stay with them while we House-hunt.  That way if Little Miss is cleared to come with us, we're all set. My parents freaking rock.

3. We don't know what's going to happen with our Princess Pumpkin, but we do know one thing for sure: We won't leave her. For the last 8 months, she's slept in our home, in her room with her crib, tucked in by Jason and I. She's been cuddled and loved and annoyed by big brothers. She's stolen Diesel's dog toys, and giggled when he'd watch her, waiting to snatch them back. She's grown, and developed, and flourished here, becoming a part of our family. We're the center of her world as much as she's the center of ours. There's no chance in Hell that I'd walk away from her and simply hope it all works out. That's not what family does, and though we may only be "foster," we're going to fight as her family up until the moment they tell us we can't. Because in the mess of this system, someone has to look out not just for rights and legalities, but stand in her corner and take the punches.

So we came to the hardest decision yet: if she's not legally clear, either to come with us or to go to one of her biological parents, the boys and I will stay here until she is.

Why? Because if someone told us our little Iron Man couldn't move until he was legally cleared, well, I wouldn't leave him behind either. We're a family.

We've heard some mixed reactions about our decision, the first being, "you're going to tear the boys away from their dad again?"

There's no right way to answer this, because there's simply no right answer to the situation we're in.  We sat the boys down and we explained the situation without giving them too many details about what's going on with Princess Pumpkin. We told them our options, and that we'll be separated from Daddy until December anyway, when he finishes his school. They unanimously, and somewhat fearfully agreed that they want to stay with their sister, even knowing that we don't know when we can be together again.

So am I torn? Yes. Are we possibly ripping our family in two when we don't have to? No.  Because if we left her here with another foster family, we'd still be ripping our family apart anyway. Is it the best decision?

Yes. God, I hope so.

We could never in a million years walk away from her willingly.

So no, we don't know what's going to happen, and yes, our stress level is up at DEFCON three. There's never a moment when I'm not aware of what we're about to go through, and yes, the tears are falling.  Falling because I know I might be here for months alone, solo parenting these five kids instead of home with my parents, buying our new house in Colorado. Falling because I don't know what our breaking point is, how long this could drag on when our system is admittedly not geared toward the best interest of the child. Falling because we've been through two deployments in the last two years, and we're signing up to be separated again by choice, for God knows how long. Falling because I'm terrified of the possibility of handing her over to virtual strangers and never seeing her again, not knowing how she is or if they're singing her to sleep. And falling for the gratitude of simply being able to love her as long as we have, when we didn't know if she'd stay through the first month.

We've always tackled this foster parenting thing one month at a time, never looking past the next court date, just living in the moment, but when we look long-term into the future now, it kills me that I can't pull out a magic 8 ball and know what's going to happen.

I can't see our life without her in it.

So over the next few months, you can expect a multitude of blogs on the insanity of PCS'ing, but be patient with me. We have a house to prep, to list, to sell, to move, all while I'm trying to finish up another novel.

It's everything we've ever prayed for, thrown at us so quickly, overlapping to the point that we're drinking from a waterfall.

But I can tell you that we're a family, and I've never been prouder of my little men than when they said they wanted to stay too, that they couldn't leave her behind.  I've never been more thankful to have Jason as my husband, my partner, knowing that we're in this together.  Always.

So please, say a prayer for us, send positive energy, whatever you believe, take a second for us and think about our little family, and that whatever is best for our Princess Pumpkin is done in her best interest, that she's settled quickly and not left to linger in the system, and that our family isn't torn apart when we don't have to be during dwell time.

Watch out, Colorado, we're coming home. Hopefully this September.  Maybe this Christmas. Maybe in the Spring.  But we're finally coming home. We're just not sure how many of us there will be.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

Truths of an Army Wife

Dear Brand New Army Wife,
You, yes, you, the brand new wife who's still changing her driver's license and cutting the tags off her "army wife," t-shirt. Oh, what an adventure you've just embarked upon. Maybe you think you know what you're in for, but chances are, you don't. Even as the daughter of two career army officers, I didn't know what I was "getting into," when I married my husband. I've loved our journey as a whole, but would be lying if I said I adored every step.

Some steps in this lifestyle... well, they just suck. 
Sure, there are 10,000 pieces of advice, blog posts, books you can find on being an "army wife," but nothing quite prepares you like experience, and it's a dear school. I took his name twelve years ago, and I'm hoping some of the things I've learned along the way might help you.  Here's the best "unconventional" advice I have to give.
1. Put the army wife sweatshirt down for just a minute. No, not because I don't think you deserve to wear it, or because I think it's lame. That's not true. You have every right to feel proud of your husband's honor, duty, and sacrifice. You have every right to feel proud of your decision to stand by him. But this moment, when you're ready to slap that "army wife" label on you, take a moment to decide if that's really "what" you are now, or if you're still the driven, ambitious college student / teacher / lawyer / (insert career dream here) you were before you took (or didn't take) his last name. Go ahead and wear your army wife sweatshirt, but don't forsake your alumni sweatshirt while you're at it. Oh, and please, for the LOVE OF GOD, put his PT shirt away.  No you may not wear it to the PX/Shoppette/running, unless you want to see him wear your army-wife running tank out to the store. Just don't do it.

2. Take some AFTB.  Seriously. This life is full of insane acronyms like ETS, ACU, LES, TDY.... you name it. Hope online, check it out and empower yourself to know what the heck everyone is talking about.

3. Accept that we live in a subculture. No, this is not a bad thing. There are many times that your friends not married to service members won't understand your lifestyle, army regulations, or why the heck you HAVE to wear a floor length ballgown to a function. You can't really expect them to understand that the military lifestyle doesn't always resemble the civilian one, you know, where you get to choose where you live. We live with rules, both in actual regulation on the length of our grass, and protocol for dress code at functions. Come on, we live in a razor-fenced community with armed guards, our own shopping mall, and we're the safest place during a zombie apocalypse. Seriously, it's a subculture, not better or worse than any other part of society, just different. Embrace it.

4. At this moment, take a moment and make peace with the fact that you will never be in control of your husband's time or career, or heck where you live. There will be times he misses your birthday/anniversary/kid's birth. Yes, he wants to be there, and no he can't help it that he's in the field/TDY/Deployed. When he calls you the day before he's due home and tells you he's been extended for some reason, take a breath and realize that this is not HIS fault. I don't know any soldiers who are like, "heck yes, another three days at NTC! Vacation, baby!" He wants to be home as badly as you want him to. Go ahead, feel upset, get out your "but it's not fair's" and then suck it up and truck along. Your husband will be the most dependable man on the planet for pretty much everyone BUT you.  Yes, he loves you. Yes, you're his number one priority (hence why he risks his life), but you don't get control of his calendar.  Accept it now, and avoid the blow-up later.

5. Don't buy nice furniture. Buy the mid-grade stuff that you like, but don't obsess over. You've got about sixteen thousand PCS's coming your way, and it will get broken/dented/shattered/lost. One day you will stop moving.  Then you buy the nice stuff. Until then, don't get emotionally attached to the armoire, and do invest in good scratch cover.

6. Did I mention not to wear his PT's like a fashion statement?  Oh, I did?  Okay, just making sure. That also goes for his ACU's or anything else that gets issued. Just... don't.

7. Get the "Army Wife - toughest job in the army" sticker off your car. Unless you're actually in the army. Then proceed if you so desire.

8. Agree that you both have it the toughest. Some couples play the "I have it worse" game. We kind of play it the oppositte where I think he's getting shot at and missing his family, therefore he has it worse. He thinks the kids have all plotted my downfall a'la Caesar style, and I have zero back up, therefore I have it worse.  Just agree that separation and deployments suck, and move on.

9. Speaking of deployments, there's typically two kinds of first-time-deployment wives. One will tell you, "I don't know why all those wives whine, I can handle this with no problem," like they're Billy Badass. The other will basically tell you that there's no chance in hell she can live a year without her husband. Sigh.  Ladies, I can promise you two things: at some point a deployment will break you down until you can barely recognize the crying heap on the floor as yourself, and two - you're going to survive it just fine. It will suck. You will live. I promise.

10. Don't lose yourself. It's easy to say, "I can't work/go to school/be anything, we PCS too much," or to give up your dreams because his career takes precedence. Been there, gotcha. Here's the thing: just because you married him doesn't mean you disappear into a heap of camouflage.  He's in the army, you're not. Yes, you live this lifestyle with him, and it's vastly different from the civilian one - no one is debating that. However, don't get caught up in his career, his goals, his dreams, because if you do - one day you'll wake up and instead of being the person he married, you're just an extension of him. Ladies, he married YOU, not himself. (Yes, you in the PT shirt.) He loves the woman he chose. Your dreams, your goals, your ambitions are just as valid as his. You may have to get creative (Hello, it took me 4 duty stations and 4 universities to graduate with my bachelors), but don't lose what makes you... well, YOU, just because you support HIM.

11. Date your friends carefully. You're going to PCS a lot. You're going to make new friends at every duty station (unless you hermit, which I can agree is a valid choice sometimes).  Please, for the love of all that is good, DATE your friends. This lifestyle can be rough without a great support network, and well... there are some absolute crazies out there. And check out their kids too, because your kids will pick up their kids habits if you spend a lot of time together. The best piece of army wife advice I've ever gotten came from one of my closest friends, who constantly tells me, "you can be acquaintances, you don't have to be friends." Choose the people you let in wisely.

12. Ballgowns. No, I don't care what the clerk at Forever 21 just told you.  If it's after 5 and a formal ball, your gown should hit the floor. Why? Because it's not about how hot you think you look, or that your husband thinks your legs are sexy. It's about tradition, and military protocol, and nothing is worse than being "that" wife. Suck it up butter cup, and refer back to number three. Not everything makes sense, and you're not there to show off your "assets." You're there to represent your husband. Oh, and dance. It's like prom, only better... because you can legally drink, and you know who you're going home with. Yup.

13. Be prepared to get homesick. Yes, you'll do your best to get home whenever you can, but there are going to be times when you can't. Yes, I miss my parents, and my sister. Yes, I miss my mountains and my friends. But, guess what, you're an adult now, and for the length of his career/enlistment, you don't get to choose where you live if you want to sleep next to your husband. So embrace the ache in your heart because it means you have people to miss, and get home when you can. Oh, and realize that home is now your husband and your children.

14. Your unit will be your family. Twelve years and four deployments taught me this. Your unit, your company, your platoon (well, your husband's) will be your family. They will be your closest girlfriends, your sisters, your battle-buddies. When Jason was wounded, it was another wife in our platoon who sat with me for those uncertain hours. When her baby was born during OIF 1, it was the other wives in the platoon there with her. Just like family, you'll be together at every function, every party, every fundraiser, every deployment. Just like family, you don't get to choose them, and there's always the creepy uncle in the corner eating the buffalo chicken dip with a fork. And as is the case with every family, you're going to get sick of one another, have a falling out, or generally have a sense of disdain for a few folks.  But just like family, well, they're what you've got, and when the going gets tough, they SHOW UP. And you'd better do the same for them.

15. Be prepared to wait. You will wait for orders. You will wait to PCS.  You will wait for him to come home for dinner, from TDY, from deployment.... You will wait for him to leave, because that's all you think about before they go. You will wait for the movers, you will wait to unpack because you're due to PCS only a year after you get to some school. You will wait for news, emails, love letters and skype dates. You will wait only to be told what you're waiting for has been canceled/moved/delayed. You will wait for housing.  You will wait for your household goods. You will wait for retirement. But while you're waiting, don't forget to live. There's an awful lot you can miss if you're hung up on crossing-off the days and not filling them.

16. You won't always like your house. There are going to be duty stations where you just think, "ugh." But you know what? You're not going to stay there forever.  Do the best you can, and refer back to number 15 until it's time to PCS again.

17. This lifestyle has moments of unmatched beauty. Yes, it can be hard.  Yes, it can break you apart, but it will also rebuild you into something stronger, yet more flexible. I married Jason in a mid-9-11 world. Our first baby was born just days before the initial invasion of Iraq. I didn't see half of this life coming, not the duty-stations, the wounds, the seemingly-endless deployments and chances are that you won't either. The one constant in the military is change, and the life we're living won't necessarily be the one you will. I pray that you see less deployments, less war, and more time together. But if not, the moments in between, where you can hold him, see him, watch him with your children? That makes it all worth it. There is no low like the 7th month of a deployment, and there is no high like the first kiss when that deployment is finally over. This lifestyle is not for the faint of heart, and though you might feel like you are that, you're not. When you're at your weakest, the strength you need will appear. It will come from your friends, your army family, your spouse's love, and your own soul. Laugh when you can, cry when you must, and always keep your head as level as possible. Oh, and love him.  Love him no matter what - through the waiting, the worries, the tears, the fights, and the moves. Because love is what makes this all so very worth it.

You've got this.

Welcome to the club.

Balancing Two Careers

Holy Cow.  This is my 200th blog post.


Okay, I keep saying this, but man...  time is flying, and life is getting hectic. Hectic like I'm struggling to remember what day it is, and when I know it's only because of the boys' hockey schedule.  Seriously. Oh, that's right, it's MAY, and we're still driving 50 minutes each way, four times a week to the nearest ice rink for hockey, since the boys are in spring league. That basically means we've been going four times a week for the last 8 1/2 months.


So yeah, there's that hecticness.  But the biggest change in this house has been my transition from being a stay-at-home mom to work-at-home author. No problem, right?


Right, because this is my dream career, something I've always dreamed about doing, and all I can feel is this insane giddiness for being able to do it, like I live some magical little tale like:

We thought it should be pretty simple... well, when he was deployed.  Jason's career was in a manageable place, and we decided that the focus in the house would shift to supporting me writing this next book. We talked about it a lot, how we'd share responsibilities and make sure that both of our careers thrived. Well, that was before he was given a higher-pressure job at battalion level... you know, the kind you don't turn down.


So now, instead of me making a career push, and Jason helping run things in the background, well, we BOTH made huge career pushes, and now the background is vacant and blurry... and messy. So, now there's two of us with careers in this house, and as much as we're trying to handle the change gracefully, well, we look more like:


Yeah, that's pretty much us. So with Jason gone at a moment's notice about 24-7, hockey, doctor's appts and visitation for Princess Pumpkin, Neuro appts for Iron Man, and, oh... writing another book, I feel like sun up to sun down is basically:


Yeah. Because we're raising five kids midst all of this, and they're still our number one priority, no matter what's going on at work with either of us.

Then again, the kids are making us scratch our heads. Captain America is eleven now, and we keep thinking maybe he can handle a little more responsibility. I want him to learn to be more self-sufficient not because he has to be, but because we believe in fostering confidence and independence. I'm not talking brain surgery, people, I'm just saying maybe he can be accountable for the contents of his own backpack.

Oh, this is not the case.

So Monday morning, Captain America says, "Hey, mom, since the big May concert is on Thursday, I have to stay after school on Tuesday for the last rehearsal."

I'm over here like:


And my response is, "Well, I don't think you've ever said the words, May and Concert in the same sentence before, so I have no clue what you're talking about."
And he's like, "Yeah, they sent a letter home."
And Jason and I look at each other and I ask, "When?" And we're both scrambling to think of what hockey game is that night, and I'm suddenly wondering if he's wasdded up his band uniform on the floor of his gear-storage-like closet.
And Captain America is like, "Oh, last week some time."
And Jason says, "Where is this letter?"
And Lord help him, Captain America answers, "I think in my backpack?"
And we're both just like:

So he gets us the letter out of his backpack, and sure enough, it looks like I'll be ironing his band uniform for Thursday.  So then Jason says, "What else is in your back pack that we might need?"
And Captain America is like, "Nothing."
And Jason goes, "Are you sure about that?"
So he goes to check and comes back with school pictures.  SCHOOL PICTURES.
And the first thing that comes out of my mouth is, "When did you take school pictures and WHAT are you wearing?"

And he's like, "I don't know, a month ago? And they're back now."
And I'm just speechless, and can only get out, "And why didn't you tell us?"
And he's like, "I don't know, I guess I forgot?"
And I say, "But you knew?"
And he shrugs and says, "Well, yeah."
And I'd just like to "well, yeah," his butt to his room, but alas, he has to go to school.  So Jason and I are debating who is taking whom to hockey games tonight versus waiting for Captain America to get home from his computer-programming activity since his game isn't until later in the week, and I say to Captain America, "Hey, I'll text you and let you know what's going on."
And he says, "Yeah, but my phone is dead."
And I say, "Wait.  Didn't I tell you to charge it last night?"
And he basically looks at me like:

But apparently THAT didn't happen...
And I have that 30-second Mom moment where I'm basically like, "What's the point of us giving you a cell phone if you can't keep it charged?  This is WHY you have a cell phone!" But I realize he's 11, and has about as much common sense as I do.  (That's not a lot, people.  I'm notoriously book-smart and well... yeah).  So I kiss his forehead and send him out the door, you know, after I tell him that from now-on he's going to have to empty his backpack for me every afternoon like I'm the M'er F'ing TSA and he wants to hop a flight to hockeyville. I'm going to have to ignore the fact that he's in middle school, and go back to treating him like his little brothers.  Sigh.
And telling him this, that we need a little higher level of information, gets a response like this:

What does this have to do with balancing our careers?  Before I was writing with every non-mommy moment, I went through his backpack, and now, I was starting to trust that he'd... you know... clue me in so I could let that one thing slip.
Sigh.
What else is there to balancing two careers?  More than I realized.  Jason's been home for four months, but I've been staying home for 8 out of our nearly 12 years of marriage.  There's actually a heck of a lot more to this adjustment stuff on his side than anything. For 8 years, I've tried to be the epitome of the "Army Wife," and I like to think that for the most part, I've been successful. I've led two FRG's, PCS'd three times, dealt with a total of four deployments, and handled our kids through it all. But now, I'm the one leaving a few times.  
For example.
I'm headed to UtopYA (an AWESOME conference in Nashville) in June, because I'm meeting up with a few of my favorite people and we're going to hear about the industry, and attend the award ceremony where FULL MEASURES has been nominated for Best Kiss.  Oh, and you should click HERE and vote, because sweet AMEN am I going to get my tuckus handed to me by the utterly awesome other authors I'm nominated with.  I basically feel like:

 So anywhoooo, Jason's cool with handling our House of Heathens while I go to this conference. We buy my plane tickets, and all that jazz, and we're set.  But then I find out that there's another conference for my publisher, Entangled, that I really need to go to, so I can chat with my editors, learn about where my publisher sees the market going, and basically get the low-down on work.  Now let's see how this conversation goes:
Rebecca:  "Hey babe, so you know that conference in Nashville?"
Jason: "Yeah, the Utopian one?"
Rebecca *Not correcting the title* "Right, well, there's another conference after that, and I really need to be there.  It's for Entangled, and it's a great...." Now I spout off details to build my case.
Jason: "Sounds great, you need to go."
Rebecca: "Well, you need to hear the bad part."
Jason: "What is it?"
Rebecca: "Well, I would have to leave directly from Nashville to go to the other conference."
Jason: 
         But he recovers nicely and says, "Where is this other conference?"
Rebecca.  "Well.....  


Jason:
Rebecca:

Jason: 
No, but seriously, he's okay with it, after the initial, "I Love The Vegas" pout-fest.  And then he realized that I would be gone for 8 full days, and when he brought this to my attention, I promptly smiled and said, "and you just left me for 9 months." I didn't really have to mention the other 3 years of deployment...
And he said, "good point."  However, I can't help but feel like the minute I leave the house for those 8 days, I'll him at the window like:

No, really I'm sure he'll be fine.  I'm tempted to nanny-cam just to see how it goes, but part of me is terrified that he'll actually run this house better than I do, and the boys will be perfect little angels for him....  Yeah. That would so not be fair.
So anyway, now I'm the one going away, and he's the one staying home with the kids.  Yup, that's a little switch-a-roo.  
That doesn't mean he doesn't leave too.  Trust me, he's gone at the drop of a hat.  And now that he's at battalion level?  Well, there's times on the weekends where he's in charge of referee'ing the kids, and I'm knee-deep in my book, noise cancelling headphones on, and he stops me... because he has to go in to work. And honestly?  I do get this feeling where I'm just like:

But then I know that while I'm working, writing, he also has to take care of his career, and I will support it.  After all, this is about balance, not declaring myself more important.  I'm not. I'm still very much an Army Wife, as much as he's an Author's Husband.  Yup.  
But the hardest part is definitely figuring out how to manage everything that usually runs in the background. I told him that sometimes there's just not enough time in the day. There's 4 hours of hockey on days, and visitations for our Little Miss on others, and appointments for her, and the other kids too. There's seven people worth of laundry (one of whom likes to puke on her clothes), a 3500 square foot house to clean, and for some odd reason they like dinner EVERY night. You know, mom stuff.  But now there's blog-writing for Salute to Spouses, and blog writing here when I get a chance. Toss in writing another book on that, and it's like... well, sorting through the dryer, praying there's a match for that last clean sock while I argue with The Hulk on the validity of wearing a jacket when it's 36 flippin' degrees out, and I sigh at the realization that Captain America has again forgotten the only chore he has of unloading the dishwasher....  

Right, yeah, that.
So Jason is basically taking in my general level of insanity, the mountain of laundry I'm trying to fold while I'm seriously worried that I've had NO time to write and he's like:
 And I'm like:

So he tells me what I've known for a while. That this is a career, and we're going to need to treat it like that as a family.  Meaning - we're going to need to hire some help.And part of me is like:

And Jason?  He's pretty much like:

Right.  So we have to start that search soon. Because the more stressed out I get, the more it takes away from the kids, and my ability to be what they need. The thing about being a mom? Just because we get our own career doesn't mean that we forget our first priority - those tiny humans who call us mommy.
Man, they make it all worth it, don't they?
The thing I'm learning about balance, is that it's ever-evolving.  That which worked for us 10 years ago, when I was working full-time, isn't going to work for us now.  And what worked for us a few years ago, when I was in college, isn't going to work, either.  Balance is constantly evolving, because we're constantly shifting things in this house. 
It's about finding a counter-balance, and when we add things to our plate, like a bigger job, a new career, a new baby (well, she's 1 now!), a possible PCS, well... We just have to figure out what to toss at the other end to make it all even out. We give a little to gain a lot. This period in our lives is nuts, and I constantly tell Jason, "these are the days we look back on and wonder how we lived through it. Now we just have to LIVE through it."  
So we balance.  He takes off an hour early when he can, and takes the middle 3 to hockey so I can wait for Captain America off the activities bus and sneak in writing while Little Miss naps.  I'm doing my best to keep the kitchen clean, which I know is always his trigger zone.  (Don't you dare roll your eyes at me, Jason.) I'm also trying to be more cognizant of when he needs a little "guy" time.  Oh, and he totally got a high-5 from John Cena last weekend.  

I know, right? 
We're improving our communication based on what we need as individuals and a couple, and how we can help the other, trying to make sure that during all this beautiful success, where we're both growing in our work, that we maintain a level head at home and keep our family, our marriage, our children the real priority.  After all, they're the reason we're doing all of this in the first place, to give them the best life we possibly can. If we lose sight of that because we become too inwardly-minded, well, then it was all for nothing.  
So today, some Army-stress hit us hard, (you'll hear about it later), and when Jason got home, he threw burgers on the grill. As I prepped in the kitchen, I stopped to look out our windows to the back yard, Little Miss on my hip, and we watched them play a little hockey on the grass and listened to the laughter. THAT is why we're doing this, why we struggle to perfect our balance. Because these moments are so precious.  He's here, not deployed, or TDY at some school, and I'm blessed to be able to have my dream career from home so I can experience our kiddos' childhoods.
Some days we're flippin' rock stars, and other days... well, we order pizza.  
Truthfully?  I like both days, the hectic and the mellow, the wild and the tame. Because it's our family, and we're never going to be dull. We're never going to achieve a perfect balance, because we're always going to tackle the next challenge, and then we'll have to figure out how to manage that. Good thing army families are good at being flexible.  ;)
I can't imagine anything more perfect than this beautiful chaos right now: we're all together as a family, and I get my husband, my partner to help me navigate my way through this phase in our life, and kiss me, oh, and then run to the store, because we're out of milk... again.

The not-so-bratty side

April, while it draws to a close, is the month of the Military Child. I've started this post so many times, trying to figure out what to say on the subject. I'm not just the mother of military brats, I'm one myself, as were my parents before me. This life is all I've ever really known.

My boys are military brats.  They have survived four deployments. They have lived through some of the biggest events of their lives, birthdays, first days of schools, first hockey games, Christmases... you name it, all while Dad was 1/2 a world away. They see the scar down Jason's neck and they know how close we came to having a very different family. They've moved across the world, lived in foreign countries, and have even been born there.  They're constantly ripped away from their friends, their schools, their teams, because the military says go, and they do. A lot of times, I hear, "that must be so hard for them."  And a lot of times I reply, "it can be, but it's the only life they've ever known, and they're thriving."

I don't want you to feel sorry for them.

There are amazing advantages to being a military brat.

Military brats are flexible, because they've had to bend so many ways. They've learned to go with the flow, which helps them adjust to just about any situation as they grow older.  They're not too stuck in their ways to make a change.

They live in the moment.  They understand that mom or dad may be leaving tomorrow, and they live today. They savor each moment that we have as a family because they know how precious it is, how this moment may not come again for a long time.

They know that "home," isn't a place, or even a house, but their family, and wherever they go, home will always be the arms of those who love them.

Military brats are kind to the new kids.  Oh you know them, the new kids who don't know where to sit in the cafeteria on their first day.  Military kids offer up a seat next to them, because they know exactly how it feels to be that kid.  Half the time, they are that kid.

They're quick to make friends, because they jump in with both feet, never knowing if they, or the other child might be moving soon. If you're around their age and live nearby - chances are you're a friend.

They take these friends all over the world. They belong to a world-wide family that exists in a small world feel. They're in first grade with the girl next door from two duty stations ago.  They're saying goodbye and just as often saying, "hello, again."

Military brats are tough little people. They know nothing lasts forever, and can put up with just about any situation long enough to get through it. They can hug their parent goodbye with a tear, and embrace their sibling in the next breath. They are the epitome of strong, because they were born into this life, and know no other way to be.

Military brats stamp up their passports. One perk to being a milbrat? You can live all over the world. Eiffel Tower?  Done it. Neuschwanstein? Check. Swiss Chocolate?  Nom Nom Nom. Loch Ness Monster?  Searched. There's years they might be Kansas-cornfield picture kids, and years they might see a Korean sunset, but they're always traveling.

Did I mention the rad photos? Oh, you want to sit in an Apache Attack Helicopter?  Here you go.  You want to climb on an A-1 Abrams tank?  We've got one over here.

Military brats see the bright side. They can get the short end of the stick sometimes, but they're always able to see the best parts. They're excited for new bedrooms in new houses, they're ready to tape up care packages. They have an optimism about them that is awe-inspiring.

These kids understand sacrifice from the earliest age imaginable. They understand why daddy is gone, and though they're devastated the day of deployment, they're proud.  They grow up knowing that there is honor in serving something so much bigger than yourself, because they're serving the greater good from the moment they're born. They know the fear of loss, because it may be all around them, but it never tempers the pride they have for their parent's service.

Military brats know joy. Yes, they know longing, and sadness, but that first moment they finally get their arms around their redeployed parent, that's a joy not many non-military-kids can understand, or will ever experience. There's a thankfulness matched with heapings of euphoria that even Christmas morning can rival.


So yes, my kids are military brats, just as I was, and my parents before me. I happen to think that military brats are some of the most special kids in the world, forged in a fire of love, sacrifice, duty, and unwavering patriotism. I also think they look really cute in camo.

Honestly, sometimes I wish they didn't have it so hard, that their dad was around every time they needed him, that they didn't know fear of a knock at the door, that they didn't have to "pull together," every time they're thrust into a new situation....

Then I look at the remarkable people they're becoming all because of this army lifestyle.

And I wouldn't change a thing.

On your First Birthday

Dear Baby Girl,

Right now you are asleep, in your pale pink little room that we worked so hard to ready for you, and tomorrow is your first birthday. You've been here with us for six months now, but it took less than a millisecond for us to fall in love with you.

Maybe you're wondering why this is here, online, instead of in a scrap book or a journal.

It's because your start in this life hasn't been typical, and the truth is, there's every chance that we might not be able to raise you. Your future is so undecided right now. So if one day, when you are grown, and you stumble upon this, I want you to know for absolute certain that while you were in "foster care," you were not abandoned, ill-treated or alone.  You have never lacked for love a day in your life.

The first moment I saw you, when you were brought to us at hockey practice, my soul seemed to know yours, knew that new that you belong in my arms, no matter how short of time we might have. That first couple of months, I couldn't put you down. I didn't want to, and you wouldn't let me. I learned quickly how to do everything with you wrapped to my chest, where you seemed most content. You met your daddy (the one who tucks you in at night, at least), over skype, and we laid the computer down on the floor so you could get the closest view while he talked to you.

Don't you see?  You had him from 6,000 miles away.  You owned his heart before he touched your skin, or smelled your hair. That's what an amazing little girl you are.

You are wanted by everyone, and it's important that you know that.  There's not a soul that wouldn't wrap you up and care for you in your life.  If you're no longer with us when you read this, then it's because God decided that your path was with someone else who loves you just as much as we do.

I wish I could make you understand how adored you are, how long we waited for just a chance to love you.  You were chosen for us, even for just this little while, the same as we were chosen for you.  There's not a day that I don't thank God for His plan, His choice. You are a gift I have no words for, but I'm trying.

Six months ago, I was wracked in terror of losing you, already head-over-heels for you. Now it's six months later and nothing has changed in that regard. There are times I burst into tears as I hold you, scared to death there will come a day when you won't be here to hold. Those same tears are shed in gratitude, that even if you aren't meant to be raised here, we have been able to share so much love with you, but it's nothing compared to the love you give in return, the way your giggle makes both daddy and I pause and smile right along. That moment at redeployment, when I was able to lift you into his arms - that's something I will never forget, no matter what happens. You are impressed on all of our hearts - mine, daddy's, your brothers', and your sister's. You are as much a part of us as if you were born here.

But just in case you don't stay here, I hope you'll heed this advice if you ever stumble upon this little blog I keep and realize that once upon a time, you had four older brothers and lived in a circus of a house:

1. Hold your head high with dignity and grace in every situation.  You are loved by all, fought for by all, and whomever won the battle to keep you is the luckiest person on the planet. You are a girl of worth, of intelligence and of fierce determination.  Given that look on your face I get when I tell you "no," you're also stubborn. This will serve you well, so don't lose it.

2. Get to know God. If you don't believe in Him, it's ultimately okay, because He believes in you, and that will never change, no matter which direction your life takes, or how long it may take you to find your path. He will wait.

3. You can never go wrong with a single strand of pearls. It's the most timeless piece of jewelry a girl can own, and will make you shine in any social situation.

4. Be strong.  You're a fighter, I know this from your first month here. You are made of stern stuff, young lady, so don't you dare roll over and let someone walk on you. You are more precious than any stone on Earth.  Never forget that.

5. Read.  There is nothing a dangerous, as coveted, as beautiful as a well-read woman. I'm not saying this because I'm a nerd (which I am), but because if you don't read, you're limited to your life experiences, and the opinions only from it.  But if you read, a world opens to you and you'll find that your opinions aren't just formed from your limited sight of the world, but from the experiences of others as well.

6. Be kind. The world is full of mean, ugly-hearted people.  Don't be one of them. I'm not saying to let yourself get walked on, but when you're able to, turn the other cheek.  No one ever regrets taking the high road. Being up there helps you see the hurt others inflict, but it can also help you see why. So give where you can, and don't confuse the high road with a high horse. You should look down on the situation, not the people.  Pull them up.  Above all else, this is our purpose here on Earth, to pull others up when we can.

7. Love.  Find love. Give love. Be love. It is the strongest emotion, and when it's pure, it will not steer you wrong. Don't abuse it, or the one who offers it to you. Love is not something to be taken lightly, and should be held more precious than anything in this world.  That being said, I'll share with you the best advice I've ever received.  It comes from your grandfather: You don't marry the one you can live with; you marry the one you cannot live without.  My baby girl, there are many things you may settle for in life, but love must NEVER be one of them. Please marry your best friend, the one who will support you no matter what storms come your way, because life is long, and you're not just choosing your love, you're choosing your partner for the rest of your life, the person who will bear witness to who you become - oh, and you should definitely find them attractive, because there's something to be said for feeling like a teen when you're thirty, and sex is not overrated in marriage.  (Please be over 18 when you read this).

8. Find peace. Whether it's in a place, a song, a book, a person, find peace.  Be calm in your soul and take the time to really see how beautiful this life is. There can be so much ugliness around us, but there is far more beauty. Sometimes it simply takes an extra moment of effort to find it.  But when your soul is quiet, you will see.

9. Dream. If anyone knows this I do. Don't let go of that far-fetched dream you have.  Strive for it.  Reach.  Get it.  How do I know this?  Because I finally published that book I was dying to.  More than that?  I know dreams come true because you're asleep upstairs. You're here, after years of dreaming of your blue eyes, and the way your smile completes this family, you're here.  No, it might not be forever, but some dreams don't last forever, you simply have to savor every minute you get.  I have counted every precious second with you, don't you ever doubt that. You are my greatest dream - now go find yours.

10. No matter where you are right now, we love you.  It doesn't matter if you're twelve, searching the net upstairs while I'm cooking your dinner, hiding from whatever noise your brothers are stirring up, or whether you're eighteen, having been raised by someone else. There is not a day that I will not love you, or think about you, wonder where you are, or pray for your happiness. If you aren't here, then you have an ally you know nothing about. There is nothing I won't do to help you, and that will never change. Even if you don't know me anymore, my soul will know yours - just like when they brought you to us. I will always be a phone call, plane ride, or yell-down-the-hall away, and that won't change.  I don't care if you're just now realizing you were in foster care, and have zero recollection of who I am.  I will always be here for you if you need it. You are never as alone as you might feel.

That's it for now. Thank you for being ours, even if it's only this little while. Thank you for uniting your brothers, and for filling our hearts with your love.

Sleep tight baby girl - there's cake to be had tomorrow.

And I can't wait to see you make a mess of it.  ;)